A small group of my family gathered at Fenway on September 30, 2017 with the hopes of watching the Red Sox win the AL East Division for the second year in a row. My sisters Barbara and Pam; my brother-in-law Rick; my niece Ruth and her son, Liam, my great-nephew; my nephew Scott; my cousin Don Jr., and my third cousin, Don’s son, Matthew, made a record number of my family gathered for a game, at least in my experience. (I’ve stolen pictures from them for this blog…)
The magic number was just one. The dreaded Yankees were playing at the same time as the Red Sox. Just one more win before the playoffs was our mantra.
Thirty-five thousand, seven hundred and twenty-two of us endured the second to last game of the Red Sox regular season when they took on the favored Houston Astros.
Our seats were great for seeing the entire field, but I had a hard time tracking the ball. I tried to keep score, but not only was I wrong most of the time in terms of which fielder did what, but the rain was making a mess of my book. A longer lens would have helped, but most of the time, my camera was under my coat and the silly little free poncho that came with the dollar program; my sister Barbara referred to it as a dry cleaning bag with sleeves. Trying to put it on with the rain just caused it to rip apart.
For three innings, defense and pitching kept both teams from scoring, which made sitting in the cold and the rain and the wind all that much harder. Pomeranz held Houston in check, striking out three and allowing only one run.
And then the Red Sox bats came alive. Everyone hit except for Vasquez, but he made up for it with an awesome throw to second to pick off Mabin.
At times the game seemed long. Every time the Sox did something good, and it didn’t take much at all, my sister Barbara acted like a pinball flipper banging me all over the place.