Spring Break
Observations of a fan
Emily Hemson
Issue date: 11/2/07 Section: Forum
I love the Red Sox.
Actually, that's a bit of a lie, as I have no real interest in watching sports on television. However, whenever someone mentions them, I am sure to raise my hand in glory and shout, "Go Sox," as passionately as possible.
And, while I realize they just won the World Series, I will always believe their win in 2004 was the best.
At the time I lived about 10 blocks from Fenway Park. Which really only meant I was privy to seeing a crazed man ride his bike up and down Commonwealth Avenue on game day. He'd honk his horn, and yell things while bolting by pedestrians on the sidewalk, barely avoiding a collision.
Although, on the night in 2004 when the Red Sox won, it was as though the entire city of Boston began acting like the crazed-bicycle-man.
The night they claimed victory over the Cardinals, my friends and I crammed into a dorm room, watching the game on a tiny TV screen. The Sox weren't even in Boston that night, but no one seemed to care. The moment the game ended the city filled with explosions. Literally, I felt that I had somehow fallen into a war zone. And, while my rational side was telling me to stay indoors away from the chaos, the other side of me, the stupid side that seeks "experience," told me this was my chance to embrace my youth.
Of course, I listened to the latter. So, I joined my friends and began my 10 block walk to Fenway Park. Immediately we were surrounded by hoards of students. These were not normal students; these were students psyched up on baseball fever, or more appropriately, baseball fury. They would knock things over, or pick up objects and throw them around. I watched a kid attempt to kick over a newspaper box, apparently unaware it was screwed into the cement. There was lots of body slamming, and shouting regarding their hatred for the Yankees. People were high-fiving each other, which, for a city like Boston where eye contact with a stranger could elicit a fight, was the most camaraderie these people had ever seen.
Actually, that's a bit of a lie, as I have no real interest in watching sports on television. However, whenever someone mentions them, I am sure to raise my hand in glory and shout, "Go Sox," as passionately as possible.
And, while I realize they just won the World Series, I will always believe their win in 2004 was the best.
At the time I lived about 10 blocks from Fenway Park. Which really only meant I was privy to seeing a crazed man ride his bike up and down Commonwealth Avenue on game day. He'd honk his horn, and yell things while bolting by pedestrians on the sidewalk, barely avoiding a collision.
Although, on the night in 2004 when the Red Sox won, it was as though the entire city of Boston began acting like the crazed-bicycle-man.
The night they claimed victory over the Cardinals, my friends and I crammed into a dorm room, watching the game on a tiny TV screen. The Sox weren't even in Boston that night, but no one seemed to care. The moment the game ended the city filled with explosions. Literally, I felt that I had somehow fallen into a war zone. And, while my rational side was telling me to stay indoors away from the chaos, the other side of me, the stupid side that seeks "experience," told me this was my chance to embrace my youth.
Of course, I listened to the latter. So, I joined my friends and began my 10 block walk to Fenway Park. Immediately we were surrounded by hoards of students. These were not normal students; these were students psyched up on baseball fever, or more appropriately, baseball fury. They would knock things over, or pick up objects and throw them around. I watched a kid attempt to kick over a newspaper box, apparently unaware it was screwed into the cement. There was lots of body slamming, and shouting regarding their hatred for the Yankees. People were high-fiving each other, which, for a city like Boston where eye contact with a stranger could elicit a fight, was the most camaraderie these people had ever seen.
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