June 5, 2008
*Note: I haven’t updated this blog at all this season. Every time I come here and read my last entry about the Patriots, it just hurts too much to write anything new. And while I don’t think I’ll ever get over what happened in Super Bowl XLII, I wanted to write about the most surreal night of my life. Here goes nothing.
_________________________________________
On June 5, 2008, thanks to a propitious auction and family connections, I experienced one of the greatest nights of my life. I was an honored guest of a very rich Bostonian in a private EMC-level suite at Fenway Park. At 6:05 p.m., starting pitcher Jon Lester threw the first pitch in what would be the consummate Tampa Bay-Boston game I’ve ever had the privilege to watch. And I’ve seen a plethora of Rays-Red Sox games. The night ended with my father and two of our dear family friends watching the Celtics defeat the Lakers in Game 1 of the NBA Finals. I suppose I should mention we were watching said game on a 60-inch HD flatscreen television at Fenway Park. I digress. Let’s start from the beginning.
My grandmother, being the saint that she is, promised she’d secure a pair of Red Sox tickets for the week that my dad and I could be in Boston. She went to an auction with an old friend of my dad’s, Larry. Unfortunately, Larry was outbid for seats for the June 4 game by some millionaire from Beverly who invented a kidney dialysis machine. As it turned out, the guy is a friend of Larry’s and offered to give my dad, Larry, his son and me his private suite for the next night. A consolation prize, if you will. We begrudgingly agreed. (Sense the sarcasm?)
When walking into the private EMC Club entrance of Fenway, the Red Sox do a great job of making you feel like a million bucks. You walk up a ramp past the players’ lot, soaking in more Escalades, Mercedes and BMWs than you’ve ever seen. You’re whisked into the main EMC Club lobby. We liked to consider this the common area for the peasant folks who only have “regular” EMC level seats. This is the area that used to be glassed-in and called the 600 Club/.406 Club. Screw those patrons, they actually have to pay for food and drinks all night.
We bumped into Dennis Eckersley near the bar in the “peasant” EMC Club. He was happy to take a photograph with me, although I can’t say he was pleased when my father had the audacity to tell Eck that he remembered him when he was a “real pitcher.” Talk about embarrassing. Next, we were offered the opportunity to try on a 2007 World Series ring valued at $22,000. The four of us graciously tried on the massive, jewel-encrusted symbol of last season’s success, which was the size of my entire first knuckle. Another Fenway employee then allowed us to take pictures with the 2007 World Series Trophy. After posing for a picture with a Hall of Fame pitcher, trying on the most expensive piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen and touching the World Series trophy, I felt like anything else that happened on that night would be anticlimactic. I was wrong.
We purposely arrived at the park an hour and a half early to take advantage of the entirely free and unlimited food and drinks in our private suite. We opened the door to our suite and I was in instant heaven. When the first thing you notice isn’t the amazing view of Fenway Park, you know you’re in a great place. Leather couches and recliners, framed pictures of all of the Red Sox legends, our own huge, wall-mounted HD television, our very own bathroom with a brass sink and a picture of Ted Williams looking down on you as you pee. Our own refrigerator with enough free water, soft drinks and beer to last fifty people an entire game. Shiny wood floors that looked like they’d just been buffed. A computer with free Internet, you know, in case want to check in on the SoSH Game Thread. The largest assembly of popcorn I’ve ever seen in a metal Boston Red Sox container sitting on our coffee table. And that was just the beginning of the food. Hot plates were already set up with sausages, fried chicken wings and onions. Forget $5 Fenway Franks and $7 chicken sandwiches. On our “kitchen table” sat trays of crackers and cheese and a fruit platter of strawberries and grapes. And the best part of the food experience (well besides not paying for any of it)? An employee would come by every inning or so and make sure you didn’t need anything else. One of the millionaire’s sons decided he’d had enough of all the free sausages and chicken he could ask for. So the Fenway employees brought him an entire pizza within a few minutes. At one point, they brought around an ice cream sundae cart and let us have whatever we wanted. I never got to get one of those upside down baseball cap sundaes when I was a kid. So I had three to make up for my deprived childhood. You better believe I took the caps home.
Walking out of the suite and into the outdoor seats the view was just spectacular. So spectacular that I didn’t want to even get up between innings to partake in the free food. We were sitting on the third base side. If you looked straight down you could drop a chicken wing on the third base field box seats. It was, quite frankly, the most amazing view of Fenway I’ve ever seen. You were high enough to see all of the action. There was no pole in your way and no need to crane your neck because you seat doesn’t quite face home plate. No jackasses walked in front of you bringing their fifth $7.50 beer of the night. To my immediate left was the Monster. And to my right was the press box. Down below, I was watching a spectacular game in the greenest baseball park you’ve ever seen.
We saw Hondo throw out the first pitch after a great video montage of the Celtics. “Beat LA” chants were started repeatedly from the onset of the game. Everyone’s minds were on the Celtics, that is, until the bench-clearing melee at the pitcher’s mound when Coco Crisp laid a haymaker on James Shields. Everything else that transpired in the game was just details after seeing such a riveting brawl. I do remember that it was unusually chilly that night. No problem, though. We just turned on our heaters that were fixed above the suite. I sat there in awe of where I was throughout the entire nine innings. When the Celtics game started around the seventh or eighth inning, a few of the millionaires who were used to this luxury left the outdoor “Fenway” area and went inside to watch the game. I knew I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t soak up every drop of where I was seated. So I stayed and tried to memorize every nook and cranny of Fenway Park. I’ve been to Fenway hundreds of times, but I felt like I was seeing this baseball cathedral from a whole new perspective. Among all the opulent folks just in the suites to make an appearance sat a girl who knew she was in Heaven.
When the game finally ended, the four of us just couldn’t leave. I knew I’d probably never get a chance to sit in a private suite at Fenway Park again. So we sat and watched the Celtics-Lakers game. We had to have been some of the last people in the park. The players had probably been gone at least an hour after their showers and pressers. At one point, a lady knocked on our door and said the outside seats were now off limits, but we could remain to watch the Celtics as long as we stayed inside the suite. I got so comfortable in my leather couch, cheering on my C’s, that I forgot where I was. But if you glanced out to the left you could still see the illuminated Fenway Park. I felt like Ray Kinsella in those winter scenes, sitting in his kitchen and waiting for something to happen on his field. Fenway Park was my backyard.
After the game we reluctantly decided that the evening had to end. Walking out, Larry’s son decided it would be a good idea to take one of the ceramic white dining plates with a Red Sox logo on it. “To take back to college,” he said. I wish I would have taken something, too. Hey, it’s not like they would have noticed if a logo-d glass or plate went missing. My conscience got the better of me though, and I left empty-handed.
Walking out, the lights in the hallway of the EMC Club were dimmed, and the cleaning crew was vacuuming, already preparing for the next night’s game. It was pitch dark outside and all of the gameday traffic on Boylston Street was long gone. Nearly all of the player vehicles were gone. There was next to no traffic on Route 1, and the four of us sat quietly listening to Celtics coverage on WEEI.
Every night at Fenway Park is a good night. This was a great night.
_________________________________________
On June 5, 2008, thanks to a propitious auction and family connections, I experienced one of the greatest nights of my life. I was an honored guest of a very rich Bostonian in a private EMC-level suite at Fenway Park. At 6:05 p.m., starting pitcher Jon Lester threw the first pitch in what would be the consummate Tampa Bay-Boston game I’ve ever had the privilege to watch. And I’ve seen a plethora of Rays-Red Sox games. The night ended with my father and two of our dear family friends watching the Celtics defeat the Lakers in Game 1 of the NBA Finals. I suppose I should mention we were watching said game on a 60-inch HD flatscreen television at Fenway Park. I digress. Let’s start from the beginning.
My grandmother, being the saint that she is, promised she’d secure a pair of Red Sox tickets for the week that my dad and I could be in Boston. She went to an auction with an old friend of my dad’s, Larry. Unfortunately, Larry was outbid for seats for the June 4 game by some millionaire from Beverly who invented a kidney dialysis machine. As it turned out, the guy is a friend of Larry’s and offered to give my dad, Larry, his son and me his private suite for the next night. A consolation prize, if you will. We begrudgingly agreed. (Sense the sarcasm?)
When walking into the private EMC Club entrance of Fenway, the Red Sox do a great job of making you feel like a million bucks. You walk up a ramp past the players’ lot, soaking in more Escalades, Mercedes and BMWs than you’ve ever seen. You’re whisked into the main EMC Club lobby. We liked to consider this the common area for the peasant folks who only have “regular” EMC level seats. This is the area that used to be glassed-in and called the 600 Club/.406 Club. Screw those patrons, they actually have to pay for food and drinks all night.
We bumped into Dennis Eckersley near the bar in the “peasant” EMC Club. He was happy to take a photograph with me, although I can’t say he was pleased when my father had the audacity to tell Eck that he remembered him when he was a “real pitcher.” Talk about embarrassing. Next, we were offered the opportunity to try on a 2007 World Series ring valued at $22,000. The four of us graciously tried on the massive, jewel-encrusted symbol of last season’s success, which was the size of my entire first knuckle. Another Fenway employee then allowed us to take pictures with the 2007 World Series Trophy. After posing for a picture with a Hall of Fame pitcher, trying on the most expensive piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen and touching the World Series trophy, I felt like anything else that happened on that night would be anticlimactic. I was wrong.
We purposely arrived at the park an hour and a half early to take advantage of the entirely free and unlimited food and drinks in our private suite. We opened the door to our suite and I was in instant heaven. When the first thing you notice isn’t the amazing view of Fenway Park, you know you’re in a great place. Leather couches and recliners, framed pictures of all of the Red Sox legends, our own huge, wall-mounted HD television, our very own bathroom with a brass sink and a picture of Ted Williams looking down on you as you pee. Our own refrigerator with enough free water, soft drinks and beer to last fifty people an entire game. Shiny wood floors that looked like they’d just been buffed. A computer with free Internet, you know, in case want to check in on the SoSH Game Thread. The largest assembly of popcorn I’ve ever seen in a metal Boston Red Sox container sitting on our coffee table. And that was just the beginning of the food. Hot plates were already set up with sausages, fried chicken wings and onions. Forget $5 Fenway Franks and $7 chicken sandwiches. On our “kitchen table” sat trays of crackers and cheese and a fruit platter of strawberries and grapes. And the best part of the food experience (well besides not paying for any of it)? An employee would come by every inning or so and make sure you didn’t need anything else. One of the millionaire’s sons decided he’d had enough of all the free sausages and chicken he could ask for. So the Fenway employees brought him an entire pizza within a few minutes. At one point, they brought around an ice cream sundae cart and let us have whatever we wanted. I never got to get one of those upside down baseball cap sundaes when I was a kid. So I had three to make up for my deprived childhood. You better believe I took the caps home.
Walking out of the suite and into the outdoor seats the view was just spectacular. So spectacular that I didn’t want to even get up between innings to partake in the free food. We were sitting on the third base side. If you looked straight down you could drop a chicken wing on the third base field box seats. It was, quite frankly, the most amazing view of Fenway I’ve ever seen. You were high enough to see all of the action. There was no pole in your way and no need to crane your neck because you seat doesn’t quite face home plate. No jackasses walked in front of you bringing their fifth $7.50 beer of the night. To my immediate left was the Monster. And to my right was the press box. Down below, I was watching a spectacular game in the greenest baseball park you’ve ever seen.
We saw Hondo throw out the first pitch after a great video montage of the Celtics. “Beat LA” chants were started repeatedly from the onset of the game. Everyone’s minds were on the Celtics, that is, until the bench-clearing melee at the pitcher’s mound when Coco Crisp laid a haymaker on James Shields. Everything else that transpired in the game was just details after seeing such a riveting brawl. I do remember that it was unusually chilly that night. No problem, though. We just turned on our heaters that were fixed above the suite. I sat there in awe of where I was throughout the entire nine innings. When the Celtics game started around the seventh or eighth inning, a few of the millionaires who were used to this luxury left the outdoor “Fenway” area and went inside to watch the game. I knew I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t soak up every drop of where I was seated. So I stayed and tried to memorize every nook and cranny of Fenway Park. I’ve been to Fenway hundreds of times, but I felt like I was seeing this baseball cathedral from a whole new perspective. Among all the opulent folks just in the suites to make an appearance sat a girl who knew she was in Heaven.
When the game finally ended, the four of us just couldn’t leave. I knew I’d probably never get a chance to sit in a private suite at Fenway Park again. So we sat and watched the Celtics-Lakers game. We had to have been some of the last people in the park. The players had probably been gone at least an hour after their showers and pressers. At one point, a lady knocked on our door and said the outside seats were now off limits, but we could remain to watch the Celtics as long as we stayed inside the suite. I got so comfortable in my leather couch, cheering on my C’s, that I forgot where I was. But if you glanced out to the left you could still see the illuminated Fenway Park. I felt like Ray Kinsella in those winter scenes, sitting in his kitchen and waiting for something to happen on his field. Fenway Park was my backyard.
After the game we reluctantly decided that the evening had to end. Walking out, Larry’s son decided it would be a good idea to take one of the ceramic white dining plates with a Red Sox logo on it. “To take back to college,” he said. I wish I would have taken something, too. Hey, it’s not like they would have noticed if a logo-d glass or plate went missing. My conscience got the better of me though, and I left empty-handed.
Walking out, the lights in the hallway of the EMC Club were dimmed, and the cleaning crew was vacuuming, already preparing for the next night’s game. It was pitch dark outside and all of the gameday traffic on Boylston Street was long gone. Nearly all of the player vehicles were gone. There was next to no traffic on Route 1, and the four of us sat quietly listening to Celtics coverage on WEEI.
Every night at Fenway Park is a good night. This was a great night.
posted by Jennifer at 1:42 AM
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