I went to Fenway last night with family. Great game, great company, great seats, and it was the best game ever. My brother's father-in-law got the tickets in a silent auction at a benefit fundraiser my sister held for Habitat for Humanity. God bless the donor of those seats. We had six tickets, 4 excellent left field grandstand seats and two field box, first row on the home plate side of the third base line.
The plan was for my brother and his son, my Godson, to sit in the field box for the first three innings. His brother-in-law and nephew were taking the box for the middle three, and his father-in-law and I were taking the last three innings.
For those of you who watched, it was an excellent game. My brother gets to the seats and immediately phones us. The seats were so good he practically had to ask the batboy to slide over so he could see. After three, my brother comes back with my nephew grinning ear to ear. Of course I razzed him about returning without a game ball.
Six go by, and it's my turn to sit in the seats you dream your whole life about. Big Frank looks at me, and says "let's go". I looked at my nephew, and my instincts took over. So I said to Frankie, "kid, take Poppi down and show him where the seats are." He looked at me funny, like he couldn't believe his ears, and I told him he needed to go with his Poppi because he should be sitting with his grandson down there. I also told him "this time don't come back unless it's with a baseball", gave him a wink, and sent them off. What's right is right, and Big Frank sprung for the tickets.
So he's down there loving life when Bard comes in and Boesch wraps that laser beam around the pole. I look at my brother and said "here we go, watch this double dinger." I said I know I shouldn't say things like that, but you know my baseball insticts and I know Miggy's bat. So after four pitches, the score is now tied. I had a good feeling after Bard settled down and retired the next three.
After an uneventful bottom, I hear the Dropkick cranking. I'm Shipping Up To Boston, baby, and here comes Paps. In perfect form with his legendary flair for the theatrical, he loads the bases before putting down the Tigers and bringing the Sox in to hit. Now a great night for the kid starts to get better. The Sox load the bases. Then they blow the walkoff and a phenomenal at bat by Lowrie on a bad read. It was a perfect strike to home with Dirks coming up throwing for the most unlikely fielder's choice I've seen at a MLB game. I turned to my brother and said "this game ends right here." Crawford delivered.
After all this action, in the best seats you could hope for, my nephew is watching the walkoff celebration from literally feet away. The kid turned 11 last week and I don't think he'll ever forget this birthday. I can see him and his entire face was just one big grin. It can't get any better than this.
Well, I guess it could. I'm watching my nephew and here comes the plate ump leaving the field. He looks at Frankie in all his Sox gear celebrating, reaches into his ballbag, and tosses him a gameball on his way through the gate. I couldn't have scripted it any better.
We leave our seats to meet up and get to the car. We hung out for a few minutes just to take it all in. So I told the kid he was smart to take my advice about getting the ball, and asked him why it took six innings to get it. He smiled, got really quiet, and then started talking softly to my brother. My brother is shaking his head and saying "no way, you're crazy". But Frankie looks at him, looks at me, and says "I'm doing it".
Now this is what blows me away just thinking about it. He takes two steps towards me, reaches into the glove, and says "Uncle Mark, I want you to have this. I know you don't have a ball from Fenway, and it was your seat, so it's your ball." I'm floored, but I managed to ask "kid, why did I send you down to the field seat?"
He looks at me and answers, "because you love me, Uncle Mark." Now I have to work quick because I don't want to lose it in front of the kid and I managed to tell him that of course I did, and don't ever forget that, but I sent him down there to come back with a ball so mission accomplished. I told him to put the ball in his glove, and put it in a safe place when he got home where his little brother won't find it and color on it or throw it through a window or the TV.
So, to make a long story short, great game, great company, great seats. And the call of the game, possibly the greatest call of his career, was made by the Man in Blue - home plate umpire Gary Cederstrom. He put more than an exclamation mark on the greatest experience I've ever had on a ballfield, including 27 years as a player. At the end of the game last night, in a game so full of magic baseball moments, he took the ball. And he closed the game in perfect fashion.
Thanks, Gary. I'll never forget it. More importantly, neither will the kid.