Idiots Write About Sports

Yes, I went to the Red Sox-Devil Rays game on Thursday, April 29. It was my first visit to Fenway since 1996 or so. Back in those days, the Sox ownership put as little effort as possible into the park, or so I’ve read. The idea was eventually to get a new park in Boston.

No fighting, gentlemen.

But the new Red Sox ownership is a tad more consumer focused, despite the incredibly high cost of Red Sox tickets. (And as any good free-marketer would point out, it’s a seller’s market for Red Sox tickets right now.)

My visit to Fenway definitely backs up the general perception that the current Red Sox ownership isn’t letting the old lady rot away like old crew. When last I visited, Fenway was unfriendly: though I found the Fenway Frank delightful, the bathroom was a horror show, the seats were miserably narrow, I sat next to a weasely-eyed, sweaty chain smoker, and there was garbage everywhere.

The Fenway Franks are still tasty, but it feels like a different park today. Bathrooms weren’t scary, there are good concession stands all over the place, there’s no smoking allowed in the seats, and the seats are still really small. There’s a big customer focus, some of it certain to be received poorly: to the anger of many Sox faithful, they limit access to the seats during the game, only allowing you through the access tunnels between batters. The idea is to stop peoples’ views from being blocked by people walking in and out. As someone who sat in the second row, let me tell you that if this policy wasn’t in effect, my $75 ticket would have been useless because I wouldn’t have been able to see 75 percent of the pitches.

Also, I noticed an usher quickly pull a fan aside after the fan entered through the tunnel and shouted (to himself and his buddies) a phrase that happened to contain a fairly unfriendly expletive. That’s right, folks: if you’re visiting the new Friendlier Fenway, don’t drop the F-Bomb.

Physically the park has changed a bit since my last visit. The seats atop the Green Monster look awesome, and don’t detract at all. If anything, they make the stadium seem more monumental, because there’s now a teeming mass of people atop the wall. The right-field picnic area isn’t quite as dramatic, but it’s still a clever new twist that puts the lie to the concept that you can’t improve Fenway.

Some other improvements also impressed me. Yawkey Way, the street that runs in front of the stadium, has been closed off — you now scan in your ticket (every ticket-taker comes armed with a bar-code reader) outside Yawkey Way. It’s brilliant because it creates a new space for ticketholders “inside” the stadium, a concourse full of shops and vendors that you can visit during the game. It reminds me a bit of Camden Yards. Given the age of Fenway Park, is this feature retro or just real?

Monstrous.

Out behind the bleachers there’s another long food concourse with picnic tables that also reminded me of Camden, but honestly I can’t remember if it’s new or just improved. But it seemed quite nice when I visited a couple of hours before the game.

Much has been made of the new, cleaner Fenway Park. I can’t quite testify to that — I visited during the night half of a day-night doubleheader. There was garbage all over — but not nearly as much as I expected. In fact, it turned out that the Sox made a point of having a clean-up crew (including Theo Epstein and Larry Lucchino) go around the park between games and clean it as best they could.

What can I say about the park itself? It’s beautiful. The Green Monster is a really fun feature that changes how the game is played — and that’s a Good Thing. I love that crazy Citgo sign behind the Monster (and across the highway). The scene outside the ballpark is lively and the stuff inside is good, too. It’s a good park. And now my opinion of it is on the rise.

Time was, when people asked me about Fenway, I’d say it was beautiful, but a dump. (Don’t fret, Sox fans: Yankee Stadium’s just a dump.) I can’t call it a dump anymore. It’s crowded and cramped, but beautiful. It doesn’t have the amenities of the modern retro stadiums, although I have some faith in the current ownership’s ability to improve Fenway piecemeal.

Where would I place Fenway in the grand list of ballparks? It almost needs its own category. For history and ambience, it probably places first. But overall, it’s still in the top tier of parks, along with those in Pittsburgh, San Francisco, and Baltimore. And hey, for a park that opened the same week that the Titanic sank, a top-three finish isn’t bad. There’s life in the old girl yet.