My Lost Hour-Or Maybe Longer
Those of you who follow me on Twitter know that I am constantly offering up scouting and game related tweets whenever I’m live at a park. Last night in Game 2 was no exception.
I was rolling along until suddenly my world changed. The wireless connection at Fenway Park suddenly stopped. For me it was like spending an hour or more in space without oxygen. I found it hard to breathe. Hard to think. Hard to function. I was lost. So I gobbled down a Fenway Frank.
It had to be a shock to my followers. An hour or more without Bernie tweeting about this, that and some more of this? Some probably thought I had passed away.
Not so-here I am. I hope you missed me for that brief time. I certainly missed you.
We leave today for St. Louis. I’m looking forward to seeing how their fans greet their beloved Cardinals. The fans at the Fens were great. Dressed in their Red Sawx best.
Two of the most fundamental and most disciplined teams in baseball have each thrown away a crucial World Series game with defensive blunders. It shows we are watching a game played by human beings-not robots or machines.
I was surprised Mike Matheny sat Pete Kozma for Game 2. He said it was not due to his errors in Game 1. But Kozma returned to his defensive prowess late in the game last night. He’s a fine shortstop.
The unsung heroes of the World Series? All the wonderful people who work in the background–names unknown–who do all the real work. The ladies who labor in the kitchen or the press room keeping hundreds and hundreds of people (mostly men) happy. And the guys that wheel heavy carts of products through the nooks and bowels of the stadium without fanfare. I offer you my sincere thanks and appreciation.
James Taylor was awesome. I got to the park at 11AM and heard him rehearsing. Of course I stood and watched, and listened.
The Pesky Pole in right field is loaded with fans signatures. It may sound sweet and nice. But I think it degrades the look of an iconic piece of the Fenway lore.
I stood out in left field yesterday and gazed in awe at the Green Monstah. I was immediately reminded of Ted Williams and Yaz. Of balls bouncing off the wall with the clank of metal. If that wall could talk…
Imagine the future pitching of the Cardinals with Wacha, Rosenthal, Martinez and Shelby Miller-just to name a foursome. It’s almost scary how good the organization scouts and signs talent.
If needed, Koji Uehara could probably pitch every day of his life. What an elastic arm. He’s a gifted pitcher. And he was in Japan as well. This success isn’t new.
There’s a concession stand every five feet at Fenway. But the prices are fair and a fan can buy anything to eat that comes to the imagination. What a place!
While there have been improvements to the seating and seat configuration of Fenway, walking the concourse is like going back in time. It reminds me of my first baseball game at Cleveland Municipal Stadium. Everything is smaller and not shiny and new. Even the signage is old, but nostalgic. That’s why it’s still there. And special.
A series of Red Sox logos lines one of the walls of the concourse. Outstanding. They had some great logos over the years.
The ushers, the vendors and most everyone I encountered at Fenway speaks a special language of their own. It’s Baaahston, but it’s Fenway Baaahston. I loved it.
Five minutes after I arrived on Yawkey Way I had a Baaahston accent.
I hate to say this-but they served lobstah and chowdah again for dinnah. They also had turkey with stuffing and gravy. The Red Sox organization did a fantastic job.
Thank you again Red Sox Nation. You were great hosts. I have a hunch we’ll be back here next week to finish out a fantastic series.
That’s it, I’m done.
Follow me on Twitter @BerniePleskoff. I’ll be looking for you.