Another virus victim: Seeing Fenway
Memories missed with no fans in stands
It was Aug. 1, 2001, a sunny, warm Wednesday at Fenway Park for an ESPN game between the hometown Sox and the visiting Anaheim Angels.
It was my first trip to Fenway … it was my first trip to Boston, actually. Fenway was the reason my (eventual) wife and I drove down from Montreal, where she lived.
Going to Fenway is for a baseball fan a “checklist” experience. It’s probably a sacred rite of passage here, and that is completely understandable. Fenway is the FIRST house that Ruth built.
Sports fans have things they wanna see. The stadiums are part of the experience, although initially that experience didn’t include luxury suites. The experience then did include obstructed-view seats and trough urinals, though.
But every sport has its shrines masquerading as stadiums. Fenway. Yankee. Wrigley. Gardens and Forums.
When baseball cranks back up — not a guarantee because 2020 — Fenway will for the 109th year be hosting games.
They won’t be hosting fans, though. And that’s going to hurt. It obviously hurts the bottom line: Fans are crucial to the MLB success model, because it’s a volume sport. You’ve usually got six months of fans coming into the games. They’ll not even get two months this year — again, if that. And while it’s possible, MLB has not yet cleared any parks to have fans in the stands.
Japan just this week began to allow fans — up to 50% of stadium capacity — to attend games. But Japan’s rate of coronavirus infections is better than that in the U.S. They’ve had about 1,000 deaths; we’re approaching 135,000. So much winning.
It’s gonna be really weird seeing box scores that say, “Attendance: 0.”
Babe’s numbers while in Boston were pretty good: a .308 average, .413 on-base and .568 slugging. Babe was just getting started, but it all happened playing for the Yankees. He increased his line to .342/ .474/.690 — and hit another 665 home runs. Probably still a sore subject.
Do you guys just know this deep history of teams and venues? The Red Sox’ history is so rich that I spent hours just going down the rabbit hole of the Ruth-era Sox. It’s fascinating. Fenway opened on April 20, 1912. So did a new stadium in Detroit, that came to be known as Tiger Stadium. Bram Stoker, who wrote Dracula, died. But the news cycle was dominated by stories of the April 15 sinking of the Titanic.
But when Ruth arrived in 1914, not only was he still just George Herman, the Sox weren’t the only game in town, and weren’t the best. It was the Braves who won the World Series in 1914. The Sox took the mantle in 1915, going 101-50 and beating the Phillies 4-1 in the World Series. Their 20-year-old lefty went 18-8.
In 1916 the Sox were champs again, beating Brooklyn — the Robins, who had once been the Dodgers and would be again in 1932 — in five for the franchise’s fourth championship. Babe was the staff ace, going 23-12 with a 1.75 ERA. He won Game 2 after giving up a first-inning home run (an inside-the-parker that wasn’t at Fenway, but the bigger Braves Field) to Hi Myers — and scattering only five more hits while going the distance in a 14-inning, 2-1 decision. The Series was played at Braves Field because the capacity of 40,000 was larger than Fenway’s — which as of 2020 is 37,731. But they can’t play Series games at Braves Field anymore.
Then he went 24-13 (2.01) for a 90win team that didn’t win the pennant.
And everyone knows the Sox won in 1918. Babe won Games 1 and 4 of a 4-2 World Series crown over the Cubs. The Sox now had five titles, three with Ruth. Ruth would get four more by 1932. The Sox got their four more by 2018.
Ruth had a good year (29 HR) for a 66-71 Sox team in 1919 and then he was gone.
Pitcher Babe won 89 games with a 2.19 ERA in Boston. He won all five starts as a Yankee, including a CG in 1930 after a nine-year mound hiatus.
In 2001 I was thrilled to be making my first trip to Boston, and for the best reason: a pilgrimage. It was my first time driving in Boston and I didn’t realize it actually was terrible. Parked at the gas station on the firstbase side for $25. Strolled up to the ticket window and got two beneath the overhang on the third-base side. The seats were 1912-sized, not meant for people over 6 feet. No matter. $40 a pop. Worth it, even having to crane your neck to see action in the corner or high on the Monster.
Hideo Nomo got the loss for the Sox. We got caught in the aftermath of an accident on 93 North that spawned a wholly unrelated adventure, but mission accomplished: Fenway Park.
I didn’t get to complete my Epic Road Trip with the next leg, which was to drive back to Texas via New York City. Less than six weeks later, that landscape changed forever.
My hometown team, the Texas Rangers, will open a new ballpark when play starts. The last time they opened a new park was in 1994, and I was there. That’s a nice modern park being retired after having opened 82 years after Fenway did.
I’m sure the Sox would appreciate more modern amenities in their ballpark. But every time I’ve ever heard anyone bring up the subject, it gets shut down like how no one wants to talk about their relative who’s getting up there in years and maybe not as spry as they used to be.
The first MLB game I ever saw was in that Detroit park. It was in 1973 … my aunt knew the Tigers’ catcher, Bill Freehan. Our seats were low on the third-base line. The opponent was the Boston Red Sox.
Yaz and Pudge got hits that night, and Luis Aparacio had four but never scored. Spaceman Lee took the loss, done in by Al Kaline’s threerun blast in the eighth inning of a 4-2 loss.
Part of what’s cool about Fenway is that the space you watch guys play in has been the same space Ruth played in. Ty Cobb played in. DiMaggio, Gehrig, Berra, Mantle. Ted Williams.
Fenway’s a tactile link to baseball’s roots, and certainly the Sox’ roots. It’s going to be weird for fans to be unable to be there.