Hawkers were taking cash yesterday. In my case, lots of it.
This is probably venturing into "start a new thread" territory, but yesterday was the most unpleasant Fenway experience I've ever had. My guess is I've been to just over 150 games, or a rough average of 3/year since my first game in the early '70s. I've seen some shit. I sat in the bleachers and heard vile words and objects hurled at Mickey Rivers. Saw Clemens outduel Saberhagen like 2-1 and it was so windy, cold and miserable it's a miracle that any runs were scored or that anybody stayed outside for almost 3 hours to watch. I've seen excruciating blown leads in important games and was just a few feet away when Varitek blew up his elbow in 2001. But yesterday was the worst.
I've been on Patriots Day before and accept that there will be a percentage of people who just aren't used to drinking that early. I accept that many people aren't going to pay attention. That's fine. I've never really cared about that. It's not Shakespeare. It's a ballgame. And I'm happy to get up if you need to hit the bathroom or grab something to eat, but if you just want to run down the steps near the field to take yet another picture of yourself, then I'm not quite so amenable.
The constant 100 decibel music is also ridiculous, but that's everywhere now and at least they threw me a bone with a few seconds of Nirvana once. One of the few highlights for me was Verdugo's Mexican walk-up music.
The most tiresome thing - and this may be something I've never had to deal with much because I don't always have great seats - was the obsession with balls being flipped into the stands. We were sitting near the 3rd base ballgirl and had to deal with the ball-hawks (my son included - to be fair he's 11) freaking out all game. Then a Twin flipped one from the dugout. I just saw it out of the corner of my eye and could have grabbed it if I'd had time to stand up. Instead, the ball glanced off my hand and then off the Good Will Hunting extra behind me onto the step. It ended up being a 50/50 ball between this dude and a woman across the aisle. She ended up with it, which I though was great, but this dude just would not let it go. It must have been the emasculation talking or the dozen Sammies, but he wouldn't stop.
Aging has a lot to do with it, and I'm not sure if it's a chicken or the egg thing. Even in these pretty good seats, I felt menace and stupidity everywhere. I don't think I noticed this until I started bringing my son. When I was the little kid, I knew that even though there were a bunch of people all fucked-up around me, they'd leave me alone. When I started going with my friends or girlfriends, I felt pretty secure because, while I don't have any Gold Gloves on my trophy case, I could handle myself and had been told that I'm big and intimidating enough times that I knew I'd be fine as long as I minded my own business.
Maybe it's just late onset adulthood. Maybe it's because I was forced to abstain given that I had to drive home, or that naturally protective instinct when you bring your kid into a large crowd (although he seemed to have a great time and that's more important). Maybe it was my office calling and texting me every other inning. It wasn't that the Sox sucked. I've certainly been there before. It was a beautiful day and the park has never looked better, but something intangible that I used to love about Fenway Park, and Boston, was missing and I think it's permanent.