End of Season's Greetings

This afternoon, the Red Sox are scheduled to play their final game of what's been quite a disappointing season. 

They've had a pretty good run in the 21st century, what with four World Series Championships - something that I, as a lifelong Red Sox fan, never expected to enjoy. But the off years have often been painfully off. And this season, after an unexpectedly

enjoyable run in 2021 in which they made it to the American League Championship Series, has been as off and painful as any of them have been.

I've been to three in person games this year, and the first two were definitely terribly lackluster and boo-able. I also managed to get out to Worcester for two Woo Sox (Red Sox AAA) games which were thoroughly enjoyable. A great little stadium, a lot cheaper tickets and concessions, and I got a split - one W, one L - on the two games I saw.

Anyway, when the Sox win, they play the Standells' "(Love That) Dirty Water," and as of last week I hadn't heard it this year.

Despite how god-awful the Sox have been - and they're ending the season in last place in the Eastern Division - I'm always game to take myself out to the ballgame. I watch part of most games on TV, but there's nothing like being at Fenway in person.

Last Thursday was a perfect early-fall day. Sunshine, mid 60's, blue skies. The Sox had an early afternoon game against the Baltimore Orioles, who were still in fingers-crossed hopeful contention for one of the AL Wild Card spots. (The Red Sox had already been eliminated.) And last minute tickets on the scalper reseller sites were going for cheap. So, what the hell.

I got myself a last minute seat for about one-quarter of what I paid for a similar Loge Box seat at the two earlier games I went to. I'd say a steal, but I think the Red Sox owe us fans for the fact that they have the highest ticket and concession prices, and one of the lousiest teams.

One of my favorite urban experiences is walking out to the game.

Last Thursday, I was running late, so had to take the T, but there was a good ball game crowd on it. And after I got off at the Kenmore stop, there was a big crowd heading to Fenway. A feeling I love

I got my usual sausage and peppers sandwich and some Cracker Jack which, surprisingly, contained a reasonable number of peanuts. A first in a long while!

The game was good, the seat great. The lead back-and-forthed a few times. Things were tied 3-3 in the 8th. Sweet Caroline, as much as I was enjoying the game, as much as I love baseball, I despise extra innings games. But I certainly wouldn't have abandoned the game during the 8th inning.

The crowd was interesting. For a crappy team so late in the season, attendance was pretty high: roughly 30,000 out of a capacity of 37,673. It was a combo of diehards, young families, old geezers, business folks, and tourists. The guy sitting next to me was from somewhere else, and his seatmate, in a thick French accent, was trying to explain baseball to him. In the row behind, a woman gamely tried to explain the game to a couple from Germany, who couldn't grasp that there was no time limit in baseball. 

There were three couples in the row in front of me. The women were all wearing Red Sox gear and enjoying themselves. (At least one of them, I take it, was originally from New England.) The men were all wearing MAGA-adjacent garb: a Chatahoochee cap, a deer hunting tee. A couple of guys seemed to be sort of enjoying the game. At least the beer. But the guy in front of me - he of the deer-hunting shirt - sat there glowering with his arms folded across his chest throughout the afternoon. I guess he felt like I would wearing a Nantucket tee-shirt at a NASCAR race. That is, somewhere between appalled and scared.

After the singing of "Sweet Caroline," which occurs between the top and the bottom of the 8th, Fenway began to empty out. The tourists in the lead of the exodus. Apparently, singing "Sweet Caroline" at Fenway is on a number of bucket lists. Who knew?

Those who left missed an exciting bottom of the 8th, during which DH J.D. Martinez, likely gone after this season, went bridge, smacking a two-run johnson, and putting the Red Sox ahead 5-3. Which was enough for the W. And so I got to hear "Dirty Water." And got a beautiful walk home along the Charles River.

In using the notion of going bridge with a two-run johnson, I'm paying homage to Red Sox color guy (and Hall of Famer) Dennis Eckersley, an enormously entertaining fellow known for his Eck-isms. He's leaving the Boston area to be closer to his grandkids. Good move for him. Bad move for Red Sox fans. I'll miss his goofiness, honesty, insider knowledge, and sheer enjoyment of the game.

Which I, as an outsider, so enjoy as well.

I'll put on today's game to hear the last of Eck. And see the last of the Red Sox.

Baseball is my game. I can intelligently watch pretty much all the major sports, but baseball, thanks to my father, has always had my heart. 

The Red Sox are out of it, which has been the story for most of my life. So I'll dip in and out of the playoffs. So far, I don't have a "rooting for," other than the Cleveland Guardians (formerly Indians). They haven't won it all in a dog's age, and I love their coach, Terry Francona, formerly manager of the Red Sox, where he put the curse to bed in 2004, and to prove it wasn't a once-in-86-years fluke, did it again in 2007. 

I do have a couple of "rooting against" teams, i.e., Yankees and Dodgers (despite Mookie Betts). If those two team end up in the World Series, I'll be hard put to pick someone to cheer for.

There's still another month of baseball, and for that I'm thankful.

Still, feeling a little wistful about the end of the Red Sox season.

End of Season's Greetings to all. And to all a good game.