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“It’s opening day at Fenway” and once again the hopes of Red Sox nation are turned toward Yawkey Way. Undeterred by our snow-covered landscape we dream of warm summer evenings and the sounds of the ballpark.
I am a Red Sox fan. I come by this through many seasons, most of them disappointing. It all started with two aunts who lived in Boston. One was a die hard Red Sox fan, the other as passionate about the Yankees. Two or three times a summer, when the Yanks came to Fenway, my aunts would invite me and my cousin down to Boston for the series. These were working women in hourly jobs, but they always got us box seats near the Red Sox or Yankee dugout. They were very particular about their baseball. We always arrived early enough to see batting practice, and we stayed until the final out. We had to stay til the last out because we were expected to properly score the game, batter by batter.
I loved everything about those visits to Fenway Park in the fifties. It seemed much more unscripted than the games of today. The players were friendly and approachable. They came over to chat and sign autographs. It didn’t hurt that both of my aunts were attractive women, although that fact didn’t dawn on me until later.
The players were also pretty much the same from year to year. The members of the Red Sox through all those years were familiar names: Ted Williams, Bobby Doer, Vern Stephens, big Walt Dropo. Those Sox, as ever, could really hit, but were always shaky on the mound. Mel Parnell was a solid left-hander but his supporting cast was often uneven. Who remembers Maury McDermott? I remember him mostly as someone who was routinely mauled by the Yankees.
Many summers have come and gone. Neither of my aunts are with us anymore, but the passion they had for the game lives on with my cousin and me. I still buy a scorecard on those few times now when I am back at the ballpark. My wife and I spend many evenings at our camp listening to the Sox on the radio.
So how do things look for the Red Sox this year? The season is barely underway, conditions are hardly summer-like. Nonetheless, I see some things about this year’s team that are distinctly hopeful: Daisuke Matsuzaka seems determined to show us that he is worth every bit of the hundred million dollars it took to land him. Josh Beckett has had two strong starts, although he still manages to convey a certain unnerving fragility. Kurt Schilling may be forty and hefty, but he is a pro. We know that when the chips are down, he will be there for us.
David Ortiz has already crushed a couple and Manny, who often starts slowly, will surely give us another hundred rbi season. J.D. Drew has made a good start in right field. This is good, because his backup is Willy Mo Pena, always an adventure in the field.
Of course, a few questions about this year’s team remain: we have yet another shortstop-second base combination ( who remembers the last “regular” shortstop…Nomar !). There is great pressure on Dustin Pedroia, in particular, to show that management’s confidence in him is well founded. There is the question about whether Jason Varitek will get his stroke back. Following his injury last year he has had trouble with the bat. And then, there is Coco Crisp. Remember before last season how the Sox promos featured Coco and the exciting things he was going to bring to Boston? We continue to wait for a spark from this talented under achiever. He is no Johnny Damon.
Finally, there is the elusive issue of clubhouse chemistry. The season is long. The games run on. The money is guaranteed. It is easy to slip into complacency. This is where a voice like Kevin Millar’s made a big difference. Who on this year’s team will add that voice? No names come to mind.
But let us not linger over such a question. The season is young, the Yankees lost their opening series to Tampa Bay, all things are possible.
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