Monday, October 23, 2006
One of my favorite sports writers is Jim Caple. He reports on the future of Tiger Stadium - maybe a little league park, condos, retail space, you get the picture. Hopefully, Fenway Park is never the subject of that kind of discussion. Anyway, Caple speaks to how I feel about Fenway.
We are very possessive of our ballparks. Our own homes are just four walls with a mortgage, a shell we'll gladly sell to move to a place with extra storage and a better school district. But a ballpark? That's sacred land. Not only because of a stadium's place in our personal memories but also because of its importance to our collective memory. Ballparks are one of the last remaining places -- and perhaps the only place -- where we truly come together as a community for a shared experience. We won't exchange words with the passengers next to us during an entire cross-country flight other than to ask if they're going to eat all their pretzels. But put us in a stadium and soon we'll be hugging, slapping high-fives and orchestrating the wave with everyone in the section as if they were fraternity brothers.