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To Boston!

Sunday, April 22, 2012

 My dear friends and hosts John and Hodge, chatting as they wait for me to record a spectacular evening sky on Mass Ave. We all agreed that the hour when the sky goes peacock blue is the best hour of all. We'd walked all the way back to Cambridge from Fenway Park. Which isn't really all that far; it just sounds far. Ill-kept secret: I enjoyed the walk more than the baseball game. The Yanks hurt the Sox badly that day. Even though it was the 100th Anniversary of Fenway Park's Opening Day. Seems like they should've let them win, but I guess that's wiffleball, not baseball.

There was a lot of red and white in the stands. And Hodge pointed out that when you use the binoculars, nearly every shirt says RED SOX on it somewhere.

John showed me the Morse Code on the vertical white stripes on the old scoreboard. It's code for the first owners' names. 

I had fun with my telephoto for awhile. This is NOT Daisuke Matsuzaka. It is Junichi Tazawa. Thank you, Hodge.

Even Big Papi couldn't slam the Sox to a victory. 

And Saturday's game against the Yankees was an even worse rout. Oh well. It was great to be there, smack behind home plate with my friends John and Hodge on that auspicious day. Thanks to media commitments (I'm on a mini-book tour for The Bluebird Effect), I missed the opening ceremonies where past greats walked or wheeled out onto the field, and only was able to get there in the 7th inning. 

I have some Cambridge blogposts coming up. Most of them are of birds and flowers, predictably. I told Hodge that taking me to Fenway Park is a bit like taking a dog to the Louvre. I appreciate it, it has interesting sounds and smells, but I'm sure I don't get it on the deep spiritual level that true baseball fans achieve. I find myself watching the flight patterns of mourning doves, who repeatedly enter the park from left field, fly along the top tier of seats, dip over right field, then exit at extreme back right field. What are they doing? Why would they enter a stadium crammed with yelling people? Do they have a nest up in the rafters? and before you know it I've missed the double play. Linus in the outfield with his blankie getting hit on the head with a baseball, that's me.

But I do see some interesting things in the city.

Big Cat Guy near Harvard Square. I think about him making his own big cat pants and sewing on a tail, and I wonder.
More anon.


You are precious. I do more people watching than baseball watching at the stadium. I remember attending one of Cal Ripken's last games with friends who are serious baseball fans. I also remember the horror on their faces when I asked, "Who is that shortstop #8?"

I looked into getting a message on the message board for you guys, and decided ($50 minimum) you wouldn't have been looking at it, and I guess I was right.

Matsuzaka is on disabled list,was that before the game working out?

HELP MR. WIZARD (Hodge) Who was that pitching? I'm tellin' ya, a dog to the Louvre.

Oh to exit the subway and emerge to see that iconic news stand. How I love Harvard Square.

I don't get baseball, ... seems like a lot of standing around to this soccer Dad ... so I do get your canine-museum thought.

Cat guy would fit in at Mallory Square in Key West just fine. Bioddiversity there is high and fun to watch.

In fairness to JZ, the old-timey nameless and numberless uniforms didn't help much in the department of figuring out Who's on First. Junichi Tazawa was the poor sucker who had to mop up for, oh dear, I've forgotten whom at this point.

Also, a point of deadly family accuracy: Tom and Jean Yawkey, whose initials are hidden in plain sight on the left field scoreboard, were not the original owners, but did run the show from 1933 to, hmm, not sure when. I do remember an elderly Widow Yawkey being escorted out of the champagne-on-ice-filled visitor's clubhouse at the Shea Stadium back in 1986 when, after the ball dribbled through Buckner's legs (where was Stanley? Even if he'd caught the ball, Stanley wasn't covering first!), the expected Red Sox World Series celebration was mothballed...

For the record, Bill Buckner got one of the biggest ovations during the Field of Dreamy pre-game festivities.

But I digress. Sorry there were no lazy great blue heron flyovers, nor soaring red tails. Afternoon games not much good for nighthawk sightings, either. Probably best that there was no mention of Ted Williams shooting pigeons in the park during the hoopla.

Hooray for Maxfield Parish evening skies, and Toscaninni micro sundaes...


Posted by KHMacomber April 22, 2012 at 2:56 PM

That's so funny about watching birds during the baseball game! I would do the same thing (plus, I find baseball abysmally boring). Years ago, my husband and I went to see a soccer game not far from our house. Although I enjoy soccer, I was constantly distracted by the Tree Sparrows, Killdeer, Eastern Kingbirds, etc. on or near the field.

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