Snatching Victory From the Gates of Hell...

"It's a glorious day in Boston," opined NESN's Don Orsillo in the lead-in to yesterday afternoon's affair at Fenway. Glorious, perhaps, if you just spent the last ten days vacationing on the River Styx. For the rest of us, it was H-O-T. 100 plus degrees on the field, and I can assure you it was no finer in the centerfield bleachers. But despite the Hades-like weather, a good time was had by all as we witnessed win #150 in the hometown colors for eternal Red Sox knuckler, Tim Wakefield. Add to that back-to-back shots by the unlikely duo of Eric Hinske and Doug Mirabelli, a beautiful Kevin Garnett glass-cleaning impersonation by Coco, and listening to a late offensive surge and the debut of Eric Gagne from the air-conditioned comfort of the car, and it was a a hell of a day, pun intended. And yes, I'm coming clean on doing the unthinkable, we left the park early. But hey, cut me some slack, the thought of getting and elderly woman and a 10 year old out of Fenway and into the car in that heat, only to sit in Boston rush hour traffic, made the decision easy. I don't think any of us had regrets there.

A few observations. A bag of peanuts and the cool (-er) temps of the underbelly of Fenway Park can keep a 2 year old unbelievably entertained. A die-hard Sox fan in her seventies will go through anything to catch the game, including fighting her way up the approximately 3.2 million steps it takes to get to Section 34, Row 32 of the centerfield bleachers in 100 degree swelter. Give a ten year-old a sign and tell her she might get on television and she will NOT miss a moment of the game, intently waiting for that glorious moment between inning halves to give a shout out to RemDawg and Don. My sister and brother-in-law, parents of the afore-mentioned 2 year old are damned brave, and have quickly mastered the fine art of Parental Tag Teaming...good job guys! The Fenway location of Boston Beer Works remains, arguably, the best place to grab a cold one and a bite to eat before the game. The speed and professionalism with which they usher anxious Sox fans through, never sacrificing service or quality, is staggering.

As I prepare to close this column out and get working on the latest edition of Barstool Fridays, I'd like to say a few things about the experience of attending a game at The Friendly Confines of Fenway Park for those of you who haven't been in a while, or perhaps have never had the pleasure. The only thing I've ever experienced that rivals Game Day in Boston is a Grateful Dead concert. The colorful throngs fill the streets, displaying their love for all to see of the Hometown Team. There is a genuine sense of comaraderie that pervades, every one united with a sense of purpose, to deliver our combined energy to the guys on the field, to lift them to the pinnacle of their skills and deliver another tick in the Win Column. Yawkey Way, now closed off to traffic and the Shakedown Street of the pre-game festivities, teams with action, hawkers of sausage and swag filling the air with the sweet sounds and smells that tell you that you have arrived in Baseball Nirvana. From there, you descend into the Bowels of Fenway, that once sticky dungeon that has somehow been transformed into an (almost) functioning concourse offering $5 hot dogs and $8 beers that seem almost a bargain in this magical place. And then the moment arrives, you climb a flight of stairs, and there, startlingly green and at once enormous and cozy, it stands. A piece of living history, timeless in the moment...this is Fenway Park. This is the home of the Boston Red Sox. This is the home of Red Sox Nation. This is home.

And now, all stand for the singing of our National Anthem...