Since you ask, yes I have a lot of memories of Fenway growing-up as a kid from Watertown. Dad took us to games, and I loved the hot dogs and peanuts, watching the greats like Ted Williams and Jimmy Pearsol. We also collected and traded baseball cards which always retained the smell of the sheet of Fleer's bubble gum that came in the same packet. I once lost a rare Ted Williams in a flipping contest when my brother's Dell Crandall (then catcher for the Boston Braves got a "leaner" that beat my "incher" toss.
When I was 14 my buddy Dave Randall and I got our first jobs, working at Fenway Park. We were hired by the company that cleaned-up after the games. I think the pay was 85 cents and hour. Our first (and , as it turned out - only) workday was a night game. After much debate, our mothers decided to allow us to go into Boston on the streetcar. We got into the park during the 8th inning and watched the game. Then we spent about 6 hours as part of the crew sweeping the stands. (I learned some valuable sweeping skills that night which have served me well all my life.) We didn't get through working until after 2am, and did not get home until the early hours of the morning. That was 56 years ago and I think the MBTA stopped running after 1AM in those days. Maybe we walked home; maybe we hitchhiked back to Watertown. Needless to say our mothers had waited up for us, and were not happy. We were forced to resign after only 1 evening of work.I have not actually attended a game at Fenway in about 20 years. I have long since been priced-out of actually buying tickets to baseball games. ( It's not that I can't afford a ticket, its that I don't think it is worth the price to watch a bunch of overpaid baseball workers pretend to be "playing" a game.)
The last time I went to a game - my friend George had an extra ticket - we sat in the stands along the right field line. I think they were playing the Orioles. It was one of those typical boring games where nothing was happening, so the crowd was getting antsy. Some fans in the bleachers started the wave. Some broke out beach balls. One gal sitting a few rows behind us had recently had an operation to enlarge her breasts. She started to flash them whenever she thought the camera might be pointed in our direction. As one of her friends explained, "She's mighty proud of those $800 puppies." I was not sure whether it was $800 each or for the set. They were indeed attractive, if you like that sort of thing.
Pretty soon, many of the fans in our vicinity had taken up the chant "Show us your tits." She obliged them several times, to cheers and whistles. I couldn't help feeling bad for a dad who was not shouting and whistling who was sitting with his son who looked to be about 7 or 8. They were trying to watch the game. And I thought to myself, this is not the place to bring a kid.
Now, when I watch the games on HD TV, I relax in my comfy chair, sipping inexpensive beer, eating freshly cooked food, and if I need to take a bio break, I just hit the pause button, and never risk missing one of those rare, exciting moments in the game. Usually, I click away during one of the incessant pitching changes, and forget about the game. Or I doze off into a peaceful slumber. And did I mention that the parking in my driveway is free?
