I’ll admit right away that I know very little about baseball and am not a devotee of the game. My friend is a huge fan and has tried to take me to games in the past. They tell me all about the biggest games, the latest transfers, and even that she recently used a ladbrokes promo code to start betting on the games. While I’m not the biggest fan, I enjoy watching people who are and my oldest child is passionate about playing it and with his first year in Little League, I’ve discovered the myriad pleasures of wiling away a warm evening on the bleachers.
My experience with going to professional games is very limited and specific. For me, the only baseball stadium is Fenway Park. Of course, one could do much worse than to have this hallowed spot as the sole point of baseball reference. It is a place so weighted with history, so full of the ghosts of long-unfulfilled hopes, that one need bring much knowledge or history of one’s own to get excited watching a game there. And with the exception of one trip to Yankee Stadium that I don’t really count because we left halfway through the game, Fenway is the only place I’ve ever seen a game, always in the company of relatives who are loyal citizens of the Red Sox Nation. I know they’ve added more seating since the last time I was there, but from what I can tell, going to a game there is still an intimate experience, full of tradition and strange-sounding landmarks like Pesky’s Pole and The Ladder.
And although his loyalty lies elsewhere (he’s a rabid Phillies fan) today I’m dreaming of sitting in Fenway Park with my boy. We’re sitting in the infield grandstand with a view of the manual scoreboard and of course the Green Monster that fabled high wall that has cowed so many great batters. All around us fans grumble about the slightest error, comparing what’s happening on the field to a play from a game 40 years ago. We skip the clam chowder and other recently-added fancy food choices and stick to Fenway Franks, sold to us by a vendor shouting “haht dahgs” in a thick Boston accent. Since this is a dreaming post, the Sox squeak out a win in the ninth inning, causing just enough angst to rouse the crowd, but joy and satisfaction as everyone’s secret optimism is realized.
For the less dreamily inclined, here’s a something practical: If you don’t want to go to a game, but want to check out Fenway Park you can take a 50-minute guided walking tour of the stadium. Since the stadium is right in the middle of Boston and is easily accessible by subway, getting there could easily be part of any family trip. For more tips, you might also want to check out my Monday Dreaming post about Boston. And if you can’t get to Boston but have a young baseball fan in your life, recommended reading is The Prince of Fenway Park by Julianna Baggott, which tells the fictional story of a boy who broke the famous Red Sox curse. Tommy and I are reading it together right now and it’s a lot of fun.
If you’re interested in sharing a Monday Dreaming post of your own, I’ve included a place to do so below using Mr. Linky (perhaps you might like to share a post about your own favorite baseball stadium!). If you’ve got questions about how this works, please see About Monday Dreaming.
Photo of Fenway used courtesy of Stephen Gilmer.