Behind Enemy Lines – Fenway Park

I don't want to spend too much time on this.  Walking into Boston's green stadium decked out in O's gear made me feel as awkward as Steve Urkel walking into a Ku Klux Klan meeting.  My orange and black clashed against everyone else's scarlet shirts.  Sox fans sneered and snorted as they walked past.  The place was packed.  Every street, corridor, and walkway had people streaming through, yet my handful of buddies and I were alone as Orioles fans.  If you want an objective analysis of Fenway, then go elsewhere.  I was a leper in Boston.

I had wanted to get to an O's/Red Sox game all summer because I had been living in Vermont for several months.  Some friends and I were free that weekend and decided to catch a game.  I searched for tickets for a while, and the cheapest we could come up with were $65 a piece.  If you show up to Camden Yards with 65 bucks, you are treated like royalty and seated behind home plate.  If you go to PNC Park with $65, I'm pretty sure they erect a granite statue of you and let you manage the team for the game.  Not so at Fenway Park.  In Boston, 65 bones gets you a 13 inch wide folding chair, 200 rows back in right field that makes your last American Airlines seat seem like a luxurious throne.  So, before the game, I met the ticket guy in a nearby McDonalds.  He had rolls of tickets and cash, a laptop, and some fries tucked away in the corner of the busy restaurant.  I handed him way too much money, he handed me way too crappy of tickets, and I left.

My buddies and I walked into the stadium via Yawkey Way as an orange freak show for the coarse Bostonians.  We entered a corridor that was a century old, it was narrow and uneven.  We were lost, but we wound around towards our seats somehow, well beyond the right field fence, several miles from the Pesky pole.  

 Right away I was struck by how short left field was and how enormous the Green Monster appeared in the outfield.  It was ridiculous, and at the time I commented that from our seats the field looked to be the size of a Little League park rather than a MLB stadium.  It is 302 feet to the Pesky pole, and 310 feet to the Green Monster.  All stadiums built after 1958 are required to have foul lines at least 325 feet.  Sox fans are lucky they have a geezer of a ballpark, otherwise its dimensions would be illegal.

My grade for the stadium is going to be low.  Incredibly expensive parking, absurd ticket prices, cramped seats, laughable dimensions, and the entire complex has the same sickly green color.  Sox fans gush about the unique old-timey beauty of the park.  The hype this place gets is nauseating.  I'll give the park 5 points just because it's historical: 5/15.

As for the food...well we were broke after buying the tickets and didn't eat anything at the park.  I used a water fountain outside of the men's room and had a tart, metallic taste in my mouth from it: 0/5.

Lastly, the fans.  Would you be surprised to hear that Red Sox fans were loud and uncouth, and spoke as though English was a second language behind IFAS, which of course stands for Irish Fetal Alcohol Syndrome?  Of course not.  Prior to the game I was treated with a haughty disdain typical of the historically challenged fan who has blocked out all baseball memories before 2004.  During the game, the local populace seemed perturbed that they were stuck near the only O's fan in the stadium.  I was not overly boisterous, but I did leap up and yell in the second when we ripped a screamer over the Green Monster.  Fans around me growled and told me to sit down.  Not in the haha-we're-fans-of-opposing-teams-so-we're-gonna-rip-on-eachother sort of way, but the I-hate-myself-and-in-order-to-make-my-life-bearable-I-have-to-drag-you-below-me sort of way.

Then, in the bottom of the second, our pitcher had a stroke and forgot how to throw a baseball and gave up the customary seven runs.  This made the Massholes cackle like they were back in middle school giving the nerdy kid a swirly.  I never heard anyone talk about baseball.  They would holler and yell when Boston scored, but besides that people didn't seem very engaged with what was going on.  I wondered if many of them could name every player on the Sox' lineup.  Of course when the headliners came up they would bellow – Fat Papi and Youk made their eyes roll back in their heads and their tongues loll to the side of their mouths.  After the game ended with the embarrassing score of 12-1, my friends and I sheepishly made our way out of the park.  A lady spotted my Ripken jersey and approached me in the first humane act I had experienced while there.  "Sorry we beat you so bad, it's just your team is really horrible."

I didn't think of anything to say besides "thanks", and we exited the old, green stadium.

That one lady earned the Red Sox fans a point: 1/10.

The overall score that Fenway earned in our ballpark ranking: 6/30.  The next lowest score belongs to Citi Field, with a 23/30.  As an Orioles fan, that's my take on the Boston Red Sox experience.  You can call me Shepard Smith, because this right here was Fair and Balanced.

Suck it, Sox.