I’m sitting in a Starbucks near the Boston Back Bay train station.  It’s a Monday morning, and I have an hour or so before my train to New York City.

I’ve been in Boston for nearly four days, the trip centered around a set of baseball tickets I “won” in an auction. I italicize the word “won” because no one else bid on the item, which is a bit like taking the gold medal when there are no other competitors. The ticket package was a set of tickets for two to three games between the Yankees and Red Sox at Fenway Park. I’ve long hoped to visit Fenway Park, and I’m turning 40 this year, so I thought I would treat myself with this trip. My sweetheart joined me for a good part of it, and it was a great weekend to be a Yankees fan, as they swept the Red Sox over the three games; 3-2 on Friday, 4-2 on Saturday, and 8-5 on Sunday.

Thoughts on Fenway Park

The Stadium – For some reason, the park didn’t feel as old as it is, in the way that Wrigley Field felt old (and wonderful) when I first visited it last year. I’m not ashamed to admit that when I first emerged from the tunnel at Wrigley and took in my first view of the field, the flags, the famous scoreboard and ivy, I had genuine tears in my eyes. I don’t know why it happened – I was excited and giddy when I approached the stadium, not weepy or emotional. I have no special connection to Chicago, the Cubs or Wrigley Field. In retrospect, the best explanation I have is that gazing out from the stands at Wrigley made me feels as if I stepped inside one of my favorite movies, Robert Redford’s The Natural. Whatever the reason, I definitely sensed that the stadium was old, a classic, a landmark, a shrine.

I didn’t feel the same way inside Fenway Park.

Walking the stadium, I looked closely at the brick facade, and over the course of three straight games, I read as many plaques and momentos as I could. Settling into our seats (on a cold, cold Friday night – sorry, babe!), the stadium felt nicely-sized, but not elderly. Present are all the modern accoutrements – three large Jumbotrons with tastefully-styled projects to match the look and feel of the scoreboard on the Green Monster. But the Green Monster itself, to me at least, did not seem old; it looked freshly painted, adorned with a new set of logos for this year’s advertisers. In my mind, I envisioned a wall with the wear and tear of decades of baseball, with innumerable dents and scars. If those blemishes still exist, they have been covered up with considerable make-up.

We sat close to the field, halfway between Pesky’s Pole and the visitor’s bullpen. I would not have purchased these seats myself, but we did not know the ticket locations prior to bidding on them. (Short digression: Here’s another lesson in the perils of making assumptions. I assumed the seat would be these incredible box seats, perhaps even catered (!) because the auction listing claimed the 6 tickets had a total value of $1,200. I bid $500, which was the starting bid price. At that point, I’m thinking to myself, “I’m going to get some incredible tickets at a great price!” In fact, the tickets had a face value of $70 each; I overpaid. This is Yankees – Red Sox 2015, not 2003, so one cannot argue that the face value is way below market rate.)  The vantage point from the seats took some getting used to, as we were essentially straight down the first base foul line. My sweetheart had trouble with this. She repeatedly missed the action at home plate because she thought the on-deck batter was the actual batter. Even I had trouble gauging the trajectory of batted balls, and making a fair/foul call down the left field like was impossible.

But over the course of three games, I grew accustomed to the vantage point, and began instinctively turning my head to the main Jumbotron scoreboards to catch the replay (which is shown after every play, which is great) or glancing to the auxiliary scoreboard along the  grandstand or the classic red and green lights at the base of the Green Monster to check the count. I like being close to the Yankees bullpen, our sight line being directly behind the pitcher to the catcher. I believe it was the first time my sweetheart had ever seen the break of curveball.

A few things I found odd or disturbing about  Fenway:

• The odd: I never saw where, on which scoreboard, the official scorer’s play call was displayed. For example, when a pitch got past the catcher, I never saw where the official scorer’s decision of passed ball or wild pitch was displayed. The same went for errors and stolen bases. At other MLB parks I’ve visited, the scorer’s call is prominently displayed on the main scoreboard soon after the play in question. That definitely wasn’t the case at Fenway.
• The disturbing: The ushers do very little policing of fan seating, seat switching, or unruly behavior. My experience at Fenway was, by and large, absolutely fine in terms of fan experience. Perhaps it was my particular section, which was in the outfield and not the luxury seats. That said, I saw undesirable fan behaviors at Fenway that I’ve never seen at other parks, and that includes Oakland Coliseum, old and new Yankees Stadium, and many others. First, yes, the usher gladly helped you find your seat, and if other fans were seated there, they would move. But I’ve never seen such relentless seat switching. Fans were constantly dropping into vacant seats near us, watching an inning or two, and then leaving. Second, the ushers did zero traffic control of fan movements to reduce disturbances. At AT&T Park, for example, the ushers will hold back fans returning to their seats until a break in the action occurs, generally after an at-bat. Fenway Park ushers do not so this, so there were innumerable stand ups/sit downs and blocked views while watching the game.  Lastly, I was personally heckled a few times during the Sunday night game. It wasn’t a big deal, and I realize that every section of the stands has its own cast of characters, its minor soap operas.  But in the nearly 100 MLB games that I’ve attended across 14 ball parks, I’ve never been heckled by nearby fans for keeping score on a scorecard, which I generally do. (“You know, the ESPN app will do that automatically for you?” “What an idiot! The guy is keeping score on paper.” “Get in the 21st century!” “Hey, did you get that?” “Hey, how did they make the first two outs this inning?”) Yes, it was a couple of young guys drinking beer, and no, it didn’t really bother me because I simply ignored them and that’s no fun. But they did it a couple of times, and ultimately I felt a bit uncomfortable turning my head to look at one of the scoreboards, lest I draw the attention of one of the hecklers seating in that direction. So, following the lead of so many other Fenway fans, I simply got up and moved to much better seats in the 7th inning.
• Singing Sweet Caroline during the 8th inning is peculiar and has seemingly nothing to do with baseball or the circumstances of the game. But I’m not so much of a grouch that I didn’t eventually come to enjoy it. The words are uplifting; the “so good, so good, so good” chant. It’s no more unusual than the SF Giants playing Lights by Journey every night. If you know me, you know that one thing I absolutely love about the game of baseball is the tradition of singing Take Me Out to the Ballgame during the 7th inning stretch. And I loved the chanting and singing I witnessed at the professional ball games I went to in Asia, specifically a Doosan Bears game in Seoul, Korea and a Yomiuri Giants game in Tokyo, Japan. So, if I liked those traditions, I should like the adoption of Barry Manilow at Fenway.

This was one of my favorite trips to Boston. My sweetheart and I sampled many coffee shops around Harvard, MIT, and BU. (I love being around students. It reminds me of my graduate student and post-doctoral days.  I easily slip into reveries with big projects and future plans taking shape.) We strolled down Newbury Street. We biked around using the Hubway bike share, which was incredibly efficient and fun, taking us from Back Bay to Somerville and everywhere in between. We went jogging along the Charles River. We made love in the afternoon. We reflected on our beautiful son.

Thanks for a memorable weekend, Boston…..