A sad day for my home town

In a previous post, I talked about my home town's marching band.

Last night, one of the bus carrying the band crashed and a teacher was killed. This teacher was trying to regain control over the bus after the driver blacked out.

Here is the local news coverage.

JPD and AM got back late last night from a band trip and then to hear this news, really cuts to the heart.

Boston's Freedom Trail

Old Park Street Church-view from Boston Commons

Shaw-54th Massachusetts Regiment Monument-First Colored Regiment-Fought in Civil War battle for Fort Wagner, South Carolina, made famous by movie "Glory".

Daniel Webster Statue on the grounds of Massachusetts State House. One of my favorite stories growing up was "The Devil and Daniel Webster."

Horace Mann-father of public education. If only his influence were felt in the South.


The following grave markers are all in the Old Granary graveyard.

Grave site of those killed at Boston Massacre, the opening act of what became the American Revolution.



Samuel Adams. Father of the American Revolution. The firebrand patriot who spearheaded most of the agitation in Boston against imperial domination.


James Otis-The second leading firebrand of the Revolution.

John Hancock. As president of the Continental Congress, his would be the signature on the Declaration of Independence that the King George could read without his glasses.

Grave of Mary Goose, incorrectly thought of as the true Mother Goose. It would be the woman her husband married after her death that was the actual Mother Goose, whose singing of verses remembered from childhood to her grandchildren would be recorded and printed by her son-in-law to great success.
Dawes, who along with Paul Revere and Samuel Prescott made midnight rides to call the militia to arms to protect their hidden arms caches and prevent the capture of Hancock and Adams. Only Revere was captured by the British, when all three of them together ran into the British patrol, so he had to return to Boston on foot while the others escaped and rode on. But Dawes seemed to loose out in fame, because Longfellow like the rhyming possibilities of Revere apparently more than Dawes or Prescott. (As Prescott is a distance relative, I may be biased here.)


Paul Revere-The man remembered for the midnight ride. And really nice silverware.


Memorial to the Irish immigrants escaping the potato famine.

Old South Meeting House, where town meeting to large for Faneuil Hall were held. The protestors left from her to dump East India Company tea into harbor.




Old State House.

The marker in the street near the Old State House indicating where the men were killed during the Boston Massacre.

Faneuil Hall-The site of many town meetings and assemblies that eventually led to organized revolution. As was true then, still a great urban space. Wish we had more space like it in Tennessee.



The statue of Paul Revere sculpted by my ancestor Cyrus Dallin.


The Old North Church were two lanterns hung briefly to signal that British troops were moving by sea against the Concord supply sites.


An ironic billboard next to Fenway Park.

A Night at Fenway and Hope (almost) rewarded.

Every member of RedSox nation (and perhaps any real baseball fan) is required at some point in their life to make the pilgrimage to hallowed grounds of Fenway Park, the oldest, most colorful, beloved, and idiosyncratic baseball park in America.

How a Utah boy becomes a RedSox fan and learns to live with dissappointment.

As a child I loved all things Boston. I was inspired by American Revolution history and loved baseball and its history. The first game of major league baseball I ever saw on TV (back in the olden days when the only baseball games available to see on TV where the Saturday broadcasts on CBS), was a game between the New York Yankees and the Boston RedSox. So of course I started rooting for Boston and have been ever since.

In the early days of baseball, Boston was the most dominant team in baseball. But when Babe Ruth and other great players were traded to finance a Broadway play, the franchise began a long drought with winning the World Series. So for many years, to love the Boston RedSox was to endure perpetual disappointment of would of, could of, should of failure to win a World Series after World War I. In the olden days, only the division winner got to go into the playoffs and there were only two divisions in each league. Often, the Red Sox might have the second best record in the whole league, but by finishing second in the division to the Yankees, they would not even make the play-offs. In 1978 after the regular 162 game season, we finished tied with them, and lost the one game playoff to get to go to the playoffs. Even when the Red Sox did occasionally win the pennant, they always seemed failed to advance to or win the World Series.

The very worst year was 1986, my senior year in high school, when the RedSox finally made it to the World Series. At that time, one of their great pitchers was Bruce Hurst, a Mormon kid from St.George.. He pitched game one of the World Series and won, and they won the second game as well, so the Sox were up two games and heading back to Fenway, seeming like they would sweep the Mets and break the curse of the Bambino. But the RedSox lost the first two games at home. Bruce Hearst pitched game 5 and the RedSox won, and returned to Shea Stadium only needing one more win.

The night of game 6, I was at the state championship band competition at the University of Utah. Band was big at our high school and my friend was the drum major, so he had convinced a group of us non-musicians to be their roadies throughout the year. I was having my parent’s video tape the game, but a kid behind me in the stands had a radio head set and was giving a bit of play by play during breaks in the shows. (He was a Mets fan, unfortunately.) The game went into extra innings. At the top of the tenth, the RedSox scored two runs and the kid in back was bemoaning the fact that it was over. But Carter and then Mitchell singled and I started getting nervous. Knight hit a single and Carter scored and the kid in back was pysched. A wild pitch allowed Mitchell to score and now the game was tied. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. And then the kid was screaming, “the Mets have won it, the Mets have won it.” Unbelievably, on a slow roller to first, Buckner misplayed the ball, letting it roll between his legs, allowing Wilson to score and the Mets to win . Although there was a seventh game, Boston never really came close to winning in that one.

Hope Rewarded

The best thing that ever happened to Boston was the expansion of the playoff system to four teams in each league, with three dvisions and a wild card. In 2004, Boston finally won its first World Series in 86 years, and did so from the wild card spot. That year they beat the New York Yankees in the League Championship after going down 0-3 games and seeming to be out again. But then in a dramatic extre inning win, in game 4, suddenly the Red Sox caught new life and won all of their remaining games, including sweeping the Cardinals in the World Series. They also won in 2007.

Completing the Grand Slam

So I had been thinking for a long time how to see a game with my son as a sort of father and son bonding moment and to share with him this part of my story. Several years ago, when my brother moved to Providence which is within spitting distance of Boston, it seemed like the perfect opportunity, but I still hadn’t managed to come up with a plan to get up there. But this year, for a number of reasons, has been a year to seize the day on the bucket list. In particular, in the past 10 months, I had already been to see an NBA game, an NFL game, and an NHL game this year. Logically then, I needed to complete the pro sports grand slam in a single year, so I needed to go see a major league baseball game. Although we had been to several Cardinal games because of my sisters living in St. Louis, to complete this grand slam needed something special, and that of course would be a trip to Fenway. Since I was already heading up to the Northeast to the NIH, this seemed like the time to seize the day. One of the youth leaders in our ward had some tickets he generously donated to the cause. Since it was a Tuesday game, JPD flew in Monday night after school . Tuesday morning , we went in to Boston with my brother and his wife, who both teach at Harvard. We had originally planned to ride the commuter train, but looking at the late night schedule and needing someway to store our stuff, we decided to drive in and park at the Boston Commons, then use the subway to get around. After my brother and wife headed up the red line to Harvard, JPD and I took the green line to Fenway. (Helpful hint, don’t take the Riverside D line to the Fenway stop. Take any green line to Kenmore and get off there, it’s a shorter walk.) We met up with them later in the day after touring Boston to go to the game together. (I should say that upon arriving in Providence, my brother confessed to being a Yankees fan, and although I had thoughts of scalping his tickets right then and there, there were such generous hosts that we still let them come with us.)

Looking up to a giant of a man (Ted Williams Statue.)

Previewing Fenway

Tours are given of Fenway every hour up until three hours before game time. Going on a tour near game time requires reservations, so we wanted to go early in the day. We really had three tour guides. A comedic old man who had been with the organization a long time (and loved showing off his world series rings he had received because of that), our main guide, a woman from Maine, and a man from Florida who did the RedSox spring training camp tours but was being trained to do Fenway as a fill-in if necessary.

The tour stops in four places: behind home plate, in the right field upper deck, in the left field grandstand, and above the Green Monster. At the first stop, we learned about how the wooden seats in this area and in many areas of the ballpark, were the original seats.

We also heard about the first major league game ever played in Fenway, against the New York Highlanders (who changed their names to the Yankees the next year.) Boston won 7-6, so its fair to say that we have been beating the Yankees since day 1! We also learned that Sox is spelled this way because when the Red Stockings was shortened to Red Socks by local sports writers, a decision was made to sometimes put this name on the front of the uniform. While B-O-S-T-O-N fit very nicely with three letters on either side of the bottons, RED SOCKS did not, so SOCKS became SOX!

At the stop in right field, we heard about the Pesky Pole and the curse of the Bambino as we overlooked the bull pens. Actually, Babe Ruth was only one of about 15 great players traded by the RedSox in this time period by their neglectful owner, Henry Franzee, who wanted the money to finance the Broadway play No No Nanette.

Our final stop was at the signature feature of Fenway, the Green Monster. This large wall was build to allow the ballpark to fit within the constraints of the streetscape when it was build, and then to prevent outsiders from climbing the utility poles to view the game. The wall is 24 feet high and features the only ladder in play in any major league ball park.

The opportunity to clinch the Wild Card.

Although we hadn’t planned it this way, as the season progressed, the date we had tickets for became more and more interesting as the magic numbers to clinch a playoff spot began to get smaller and smaller. In the week before the game, it became apparent that this could be the night the RedSox clinched their spot. By Monday the deck was perfectly set, as a win at our game would clinch the American League wild card spot. Could you ask for a better luck?

Play Ball

Given the history of Fenway, we were looking to see some of the following: a home run over the Green Monster, a home run that bounced off of Pesky Pole, some late game heroics, maybe a bean ball or two, maybe a weird bounce or two off the outfield walls, Jon Papelbon coming in to save the game, and all the excitement and intensity of a playoff game. We did see almost every one of these things, just not quite the way we expected.

Our seats were in the right field grandstand, at about the same level as the Ted Williams red seat, but under the cover of the upper deck. (Draw a vertical line from the "4" and a horizontal line from the red seat and they will intersect about where we sat.)

A structural beam slightly obstructed our view of the field, but not too badly.

After a Canadian color guard presented their colors and the singing of the Canadian national anthem (we were playing the Toronto Blue Jays) and the singing of the American national anthem the stadium was a buzz with excitement. This all ended on the first pitch by Clay Buchholz , the Boston starter, which Bautista homered over the Green Monster.

I’m thinking, hey that’s was suppose to be a RedSox player doing that. Then Hill singled and then Lind homered..Three up, three runs? And then an out, a walk, an out, and a hit by former and beloved RedSox now BlueJay Kevin Millar, leading to a fourth run. Suddenly, all my excitement at seeing Boston clinch the wildcard had turned to dust and it was only the top of the first inning! Oh what bitter disappointment.

We scored when Martinez hit in Pedroia, but still we trailed 4-1 at the end of the inning. In the top of the second, the Blue Jays scored again, once more with a home run this time by Hill. We did get another run in the second, when Bay scored on a wild pitch, but 5-2 still wasn’t looking so hot. All this way to watch the Sox get hammered? It seemed that way as Kevin Millar homered in the 3^rrd, and then Lind homered again in the 5^th and 7^th (a personal hat trick of homers, wow, that hurts.) with the one in the seventh ricocheting off the Pesky pole. We are now down 8-2, and things looked bleak. My brother and his wife headed off for some treats, returning with popcorn and ice cream which was still good despite the nip in the air. The RedSox were hitting consistently, but kept wasting chances by hitting into double plays. By the top of the eighth inning, fans were starting to leave.

And then Fenway magic began…the loudspeakers started booming out Sweet Caroline, the Neil Diamond song that has become a RedSox (and now in other ballparks as well) tradition. After a rousing rendition, everyone stays on their feet and starts chanting, “Let’s go RedSox.” The chant intensifies as the urgency level of nearly 35,000 remaining fans begins to swell. The lead-off hitter, Ellsbury reaches base on a single. Then Pedroia singles. Everyone is screaming and chanting and the stadium is fully rocking now, then Martinez once again grounds into a double play. But the crowd is still cheering, still eternally hopeful. Kevin Youkilis launches a mighty blow deep to center, just right of the green monster, though not quite high enough to get out of the park, ricocheting off the wall for a double and Ellsbury scores. And now the roar becomes deafening as David Ortiz comes to the plate. He smashes one towards our side, and the ball travels deep but not quite enough to get over the wall to the bull pen. Still it bounces off the wall, and even Big Papi is fast enough to get to second while Youkiulis scores. Its now 8-4 and there is so much electricity in the air, you can taste it on your tongue. Bay then walks and Drew comes to the plate. He smashes a a ball again towards our side, but this one has more juice than Big Papi’s and it clears the fence as all of RedSox nation is dancing in its seats with the score 8-7.

Even when Kotchman lines out to third, there is only a little dampening of the screaming because big Jon Papelpon comes strutting onto the field to the driving beat of the Irish riverdance song “I’m shipping up to Boston”. The message is clear, we are sending in the big gun to shut down the Blue Jays and clear the way for the final assault on the wild card berth. The first pitch in lined to third for an out. The second batter goes down on two pitches with a fly ball to first base side. Then up comes Lind, the man who has three home runs. Papelbon promptly beans him with a inside fast ball (not intentionally one hopes), and then gets the next batter on a fly ball. Part one accomplished. Now back to hitting.

Reddick, the pinch hitter, strikes out. We can only hold our breath. Then Ellsbury singles. The tying run in on. Pedroia hits one deep our to our side, the whole stadium wills to ball onward, but it falls just short of the wall and the center fielder snags it for the out. A mighty groan. But Ellsbury steals second and the tying run is now in scoring position. Martinez walks and now the winning run is on. Youkilis comes up to the plate and soon its full count with two outs and two men on. Can it get any better than this? The runners are of course running with the pitch,. we are all screaming and clapping and going crazy and the police are positioning themselves in preparation for keeping us from charging the field. The pitch comes.. .maybe a little outside…Youkilis takes the pitch …and the umpire calls strike three. The game is over. We are all stunned and there is nothing to do but file out, thinking wow, what a game. What a night.

After thoughts

After a few deep breaths and a sigh, it comes to me that in many ways, it was perhaps the most fitting ending given my experience with being a BoSox fan. An everlasting exciting journey to verge of victory, almost overcoming self-inflicted wounds, but then falling just an out shy of glory, at least temporarily. Boston would clinch in the wee hours of the morning as Rangers lost to the Angels and we would jet home to Tennessee.