Everything's bigger at the World Series

It started out the same as most other games I've been to this year - just with the luxury of starting 90 minutes later...but, that didn't take the pressure off of getting into Fenway - because, when it's the World Series, and you paid that much for tickets...you want to see the Pops play the National Anthem. You want to see the F-16s flyover. You want to see Yaz throw the ceremonial first pitch. You damn well want to see it all. And, all I saw.

Traffic getting into Boston was unusually reasonable...maybe due to the later start. But. once you got 2 blocks within range - something was different. The streets were jammed with security, media, limos, buses, fans, vendors....the damp October air had a pulse - a beat - palpable, in my opinion. Maybe it was just all of the electricity being drawn in, the satellites all pointed here...I don't know....but, this was different than any other regular season game. The tickets are bigger, the crowd larger, the media presence astounding, even more seating/space was created behind home plate. A regular season game pales in comparison when considering the expectations and the stakes. Any fan attending this game with a "business as usual" attitude should've given their tickets to someone who'd really appreciate them. This Red Sox fan felt like Cinderella on her way to the ball...or a 6 year-old just arriving at Disneyworld for the first time. Magic. I'm very fortunate, at my age, to still have moments in my life that make me feel like this - and that I have the wisdom to appreciate them when they come.

And, for the baseball itself. The very moment I saw the 2nd pitch of the night bounce off the Green Monster for potential Rookie-of-the-year, Dustin Pedroia's first World Series home run - I thought quietly to myself: "So, that's how it's going to be. Welcome to the World Series, Colorado" - and smiled brightly. I was right. That's how it was going to be....Curse, what curse? It was 3-0 half way through the first, with the ultimate meltdown at the top of the 5th. Hit after hit, walk after walk, run after run, walked-run after walked-run. It just kept getting better for Red Sox offense and it couldn't get more embarrassing for Rockies' pitching. Fans everywhere asking themselves: "This is the best pitching Colorado's got?" and "Wow, this lead is big enough to bring in Gagne." Thanks to the dominant power of Josh "The Assasinator" Beckett and the brilliant wisdom of catcher and captain, Jason Varitek - defense was not a problem...and, in the end, Gagne got his 10 minutes of "fame" - hey, at least we didn't boo him. Afterall, someone had to close the game and there was no sense warming up Boston's newest Riverdancer, Jonathan Papelbon - we'll need him later.

Yeah, I know...I'm a girlie girl - comparing baseball to fairy tales (though I did NOT wear my pink hat to the game!) - but there are some incredible hard stats from World Series Game 1: First - this is the highest Red Sox score in franchise history in a World Series game. They set the record for runs scored AND victory margin in an opening game. The Red Sox became the first ballclub to hit 8 doubles in a Series game since 1925. Dustin Pedroia became just the second player in World Series history to lead off the first inning of Game 1 with a homer, joining Don Buford of the 1969 Orioles. Oh - the Rockie's had a stat of their own: Reliever Ryan Speier was the first pitcher to ever walk 3 batters with bases loaded in a Series game! Josh Beckett - compared to the icons of pitching: Pedro Martinez, Roger Clemens and Curt Schilling (in their days) - is the first pitcher to strike out the first four batters in a World Series game since Sandy Koufax in 1963 - and Beckett could very well be on the greatest postseason run of all time. And, for you, Tito: Not since 1916 (Bill Carrigan) has any manager taken the Red Sox to the World Series twice. This is what we came here for - some of the greatest baseball ever seen....and that, we got.

As a seasoned Fenway Faithful - blessed with brilliant mentor, we've become talented in the artistry of attending Red Sox games. We landed a free parking space near Northeastern and caught the shuttle to the park - and, as usual, soon began playing our own sport of: "What are the best seats we can land tonight?" Game on. We went from our Bleacher seats in section 36 in the first (watching Dustin's home run hit the Green Monstah) - managed our way to Grandstand 15, and then on to Loge Box 113...and finally, Field box 26 - right behind the Sox dugout. It never ceases to amaze me how the fans with the best seats leave the earliest. Granted, it was a late game on a rainy Wednesday night, and it was a huge run lead...but, this is the WORLD SERIES, People! What, did you get your tickets for free? And, at the end of the very bland, uneventful 9th inning - with Gagne's nearly miraculous, sadly anti-climactic, perfect role as closer (Hey, Eric, what'd Pap give you some lessons?) - we stuck around, which we normally don't do - watching the teams line-up, the media take over the infield - grabbing players one by one for an interview...the grounds crew pulling out equipment, the athletes disappearing below into the clubhouse. No champagne or dancing on the mound tonight, still too many games to be played.

We were amongst the final fans to leave Fenway...and though there were folks milling about outside, many had already disspersed to the highways, the T, or their local hotels. We'd missed the last shuttle back to Northeastern, so we began on the long walk back to Ruggles. It hadn't turned out to be nearly as cold or rainy in Boston as was predicted...or, maybe it was a combination of the lights, the body heat of tens of thousands of people, and the passionate, unrivaled spirit of this historic ballpark that heated up Fenway as if it were an evening in early September rather than late October. The walk back was refreshing...reminiscing of other seasons, contemplating possibilities for 2008, what will become of players like Lugo and Lowell, (Theo - of you're listening - my vote: Pay Lowell whatever he wants and take the first trade deal that puts Lugo and Gagne in different uniforms) and the strategies for the line-up in Colorado. We walked along, the crowd of fans thinning until we were alone. I found the city oddly quiet, considering thousands of people had flooded into the streets a short time before - it was well after midnight smack dab in the middle of the week. If, from here, you couldn't see the Pru lit up with "Go Sox", you could be utterly unaware that there had even been a game that night. My World Series ticket tucked into my jacket, like a treasured secret - that I'd just shared with 36,733 other members of Red Sox Nation.

So, for me - at 11pm on Tuesday night - when I got an unexpected call from a dear friend/complete fanatic (perhaps moreso even than myself) - with tickets - asking if I was "IN" - I was battling a nasty head cold, a bit wacky from the Nyquil - but, I didn't whine, I didn't hesitate, I didn't worry about the forecast for rain, I never gave it a second thought...not even when I heard the ridiculously impractical, unjustifiable, irresponsible cost of the tickets. I accepted the invitation graciously, I packed up my Robitussin, tissues and rain poncho into my Red Sox backpack and I went. And, for me - this was a real life Mastercard commercial moment - "Living in the moment....Priceless".

One never knows how many opportunities in life they get to do something truly special - perhaps frivolous or decadent or extravagent - more often times, opportunites come when resources are absent or vice versa. I try not to carry the load of many regrets, but even I can count opportunites I've passed by, lacking a resource or an opportunity to just DO IT. Those moments that leave you with nothing but "What If...?" This is not now and will never be one of THOSE moments for me. The opportunity and the resources were in the same place at the same time...and I WENT. Look at all those Red Sox fans back in 1918 who said: "Oh, maybe I'll go to a World Series game next year." And, now, I've never been more grateful or loyal to my beloved "Boys of Summer" for the great baseball and for a memory that will last a lifetime.

Now, I know "there's no crying in baseball" but I do feel compelled to break into song: "I had the time of my life, and I owe it all to you" - to you, the Red Sox...and to you, Jake. I'd not have been there, not have had this fabulous moment in time, if not for you.

Most Blessed to be...
Ann, the Red Sox fan