Going to Fenway (Park)

Baseball is my family’s sport.  It’s the one I grew up watching, playing, and obsessing over.  One of the best compliments I ever got as a kid was being told that I “threw a baseball like a boy.”

My obsession with the game hasn’t dimmed as an adult and if given the chance to go to a game, I’ll drop whatever I’m doing and rush out. So when I found out that the Red Sox were going to be in town during the same week that I was, well, it was an easy decision to buy four tickets and head out to Fenway for an afternoon game.

I’ve been to Fenway once before, squeezing in a game after a full day of meetings.  I have to tell you, it was the best thing I did that day.

The experience was even better this time, attending with the husband and children.  We bought seats way out in the right field grandstand, which luckily were shaded by the porch above.  The view wasn’t that great, impeded by a steel support column, but we made do–and really, how much can you complain when you get the chance to spend the afternoon watching a ballgame in a 99 year old stadium?

We ate the requisite hot dogs, popcorn, and cotton candy, and took the subway in and out of Boston. I know my kids will talk about the experience long after they forget the historical sites we saw in Boston.  Somehow baseball at Fenway proves to be more American to them (and to most of us) than the Freedom Trail.  It’s a form of connection to the past that’s real and tangible and one we can still participate in.

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