The Fenway Fall

It's about 75 degrees as we walk into the coolness and shade of Fenway Park last Sunday.  The Sox are out of town playing in Houston and the previous year's Championship Season is just a nice memory.  But that afternoon we were there to watch the Lowell Spinners (Red Sox minor league team) play the Mahoning Valley Scrappers (Cleveland Indians minor league team).  The idea is to see some young guys play in the beauty and serenity of Fenway and you can get seats that are like this:

Fourth row on the aisle right behind home plate.  Oh, yes.  Tommy was a happy boy.  We moved down the steps, and my right leg just went boink, and by the time I stopped rolling down the walkway, I had landed in the lap on a eight year old boy, actually on his water bottle (by the sound of the plastic crinkling) and the first view I saw was:

which was actually pretty neat because, well, I'd never been that close behind home plate (but the day before we had taken the Fenway Park tour, and the first thought that came into my already fractured brain was "Hey, I was up there yesterday.  Sat in those seats and could look down on to the field:

But for now I just apologized to the family and slowly skulked over to my seat.  We watched the game and the minor league hi-jinks on the sidelines (Suggestions for minor league teams - have a "Baseball Only Night" - no t-shirt giveaways, no mascot races, no dogs catching frisbees, no walkup music - just the game, and the food, of course). 

We shared a Cherry Coke and watched a very tight 1-0 game.  At the same time I could feel my leg muscles tightening up like plaster of paris, so that when we stood for the seventh inning or the excuse me-pardonme-sorry families to go by us to get in the aisle and dash for yet another soda and do the whole thing again. I was actually waiting for the family the next row over to explode with their group 33rd hot dog triggering the deluge of consumed weeniers, sodas, cotton candy, popcorn would flow unencumbered over the backstop and onto the field, stopping the game before the Spinners' relief corps would do their own exploding in the ninth.

Final score: Spanners 6, Spinners 1.

We stayed awhile after the game as the Red Sox showed "Field of Dreams" on the big screen.  I just took it in - those seats and watching the movie - OK, actually, I didn't want to make the walk back to the hotel. My legs had stiffened right up, my right leg more of a wood post.  Is this how Long John Silver felt in Treasure Island?  Step, clop, step, clop.  Arrrr, matey, get me to me ship. Can't remember where I put it.  Arrr.

Tuesday I stopped over at the library and dropped off a due book.  Before leaving, I walked over to the shelves that held the free books, and there's always a surprise or two.  It was down on the bottom shelf.  So I got down there, slowly, using my left leg to support, and my right on an angle for stability.  As I stood up, the right leg gave out and I fell on to the shelf, trying to grab it for support, but the shelf gave way, spilling me and the books on the floor.  Get up. Put the books back on the shelf.  Okay, skulk out.

I went home where I can fall over any time I want.  The Boston trip set a good frame of reference. I can walk as far as I wish, as long as I wish the place to be about a block away.  What is needed? The Acceptance of pain, treat when you can.  We did everything we planned to in Boston, and a few things more. But stairs are just, uh, no. One or two, fine. Anything more? It better be worth it.  We shopped on Newbury Street, and many stores are one floor up or down from the street. Sometimes it was.  But Boston is always worth it.  We've talked about moving there. If you want life filling culture and history, and beauty, I recommend the Dirty Water City. And the Red Sox. And Fenway.

And as Dylan said, "you better walk right." Doin' my best.  Thanks for reading.

Shipping off to Boston - Not

In one of these posts I may have stated that I am a fan of the Boston Red Sox baseball (and to my readers in the Ukraine, baseball is an American sport where a player throws a hard ball 144.84 kph at another player 18.47 meters away who must then attempt to hit the ball and run to three bases, 27.4 meters from each other in a square, hoping to return to "home" plate where you began, another 27.4 meters away.  In the meantime, nine other players are trying to stop you from doing that.  Really, you've got to see it).  The Red Sox won the World Series last week, crowning them the best team in baseball, at least the version we play here. I was quite happy for that and gave a tip of my Red Sox cap to the City of Boston, as they deserved some good news.

The Red Sox had not won a World Series from 1918 to 2003.  They did in 2004 (Cool fun factoid - in 2005 a movie called Fever Pitch was made and it starred Jimmy Fallon and Drew Barrymore in a story of these two Bostonians falling in love during the pennant race of 2004.  The script had called for the Red Sox to be beaten out by the NY Yankees, because, well, that's what happens. Alas the Sox shocked the movie producers [and everyone else] by winning. So they changed the script and followed the team to St.Louis to win the series in four games. Here's the fun fact - Jackie and I are in the movie, well, our voices are.  On a day we went to Fenway was one of the first days of shooting, Opening day re-enacted.  Big Old Glory on the Monster in left, bands, and throwing our the first pitch, Stephen King.  So that cheering of 30000 fans includes my wife and me).

When the Sox grabbed the title in 2004, they had a parade in Boston with the players, families and staff of the Red Sox rolled through Beantown on Duckmobiles like this:

They bring you to historic and interesting parts of town, and then hit the water so you can see the skyline of the city. We've done it a number of times, but oddly not in Boston.  (Another odd thing - we had duck boats in Albany until a few years back, and whenever the boats would go by the welfare office where I worked, the host/hostess on the boat would have the tourists look to the other side of the street, and shun the building where all the poor people went to get help.)

So anyway, there was the 2004 championship duck boat parade and Jackie and I rose up at about 4:30  AM, and got on a local bus charter and made it to Boston to see the parade and revel with everyone.  

We enjoyed the time hitting pubs and having a great lunch while watching the duck boats splash in the Charles River, and the Sox players waving the Championship trophy. My wife has always told me it was one of her favorite days, ever.

And the real reason we could go? The parade was held on Saturday. We couldn't do anything about the 2007 World Series win because they clinched on a Sunday, and the parade was Tuesday or Wednesday.  Nope. Still working.

So here it was again, our big chance. I called and got reservations for the trip to Boston on 11/2/13.  I told Jackie, who was pleased and raring to go. Until Friday. That was when the slight cold she'd had had erupted into a very bad cold.  Immediately I got buyer's remorse.  In '04, we could trail the team, following the Ducks, and running all the ups and down of Boston hills.  Hills, there are hills in Boston.  Get up at 4:00 AM? No.

That bird has flown the coop and slammed into a brick wall.  I called and canceled, and even verified it with the bus driver when he called me at 5:00 AM Saturday from the bus to ask if we were coming. We watched on MLB.tv.

Next month we've got a bus trip to Radio City.  We leave later and cannot stir too much as we have the show in the middle of the day, so limited walking.  

My wife said "We have to put a little more thought into these trips."  I must agree.  I could get around Disney World well enough because there was no time limitations.  There's always another bus, and Space Mountain won't fall to dust. Relax. Missed the parade? OK, we'll do it again in a few hours. 

Long trips with a lot of driving are just out, the agreement being that I'll do the beginning and the end, and Jackie does the middle. We adjust.

But so help me (deity), if the Mets ever win the World Series again, I demand they thaw my body out at the cryogen stasis lab and plop me in a wheel chair, so I can see one more.  For now.....

And in memory.......