O Happy Day

There is joy in Mudville this day!  For the 8th time, my beloved Boston Red Sox have won, nay, earned, the World Series Championship.

Accomplised first in 1903, and repeated 4 more times in the following 15 years, the Sox looked like a dynasty in the making.  Then, in one of the most brilliant baseball moves of all time, they sold one George Herman Ruth to the NY Yankees, at Christmas time, in 1919.  A better gift the Yankees never received.  The rest was history, and the begining of - the Curse of the Bambino. For 86 long years.

Not until 2004 could the beleagured team break through to put the curse in its proper place, the graveyard of baseball paranoia. Since then, they have won 3 Series titles in 10 years.  From last place in 2012 to the top of the world in 2013, the Sox appear to be hatching another run at lasting glory.  And they've done it by staying, for the most part, under the radar, quietly going about the business of winning baseball games.  For example, of the 12 World Series they've played in, they have won 8 of them.  Get them there, and they deliver.  Not too shabby.

So congrats gents, well played.  Well deserved.  Now, please, for the love of God - shave!  You look like what I can only describe by using an endearing quote from the movie "Serpico," and it can't be repeated in this forum.  Lather up boys!

Coach Mac Quote:  "When the leaves turn brown, the Red Sox WILL wear the crown."
                                Amen coach!

Boston? In Naples, Florida?

My favorite American city, hands down, is Boston.  Large enough to be a big city, small enough to be your home town, Boston oozes atmosphere and variety.  Forget you must the absolutely maniacal drivers that frequent its streets; you must fall in love with this historic national treasure. 

And one of the most precious of reasons for loving this town is a small, old, (some would say outdated) ballpark that is lovingly nestled within the protective arms of  Yawkey Way, Van Ness St., Ipswich St., Brookline Ave, and one Lansdowne St.

Hallowed Ground

I refer, of course, to Fenway Park, home of the Boston Red Sox and for my money, the quintessential American baseball venue.  There is no other like it (sorry Chicago), and there never will be.  Some poor sight lines, old bathrooms, small seats, nightmare parking, and carded every time you get a beer, you would think they’d just tear it down and start over.  Well, some tried that awhile back.  It’s still there.

In fact, come this April 20^th, Anno Domini 2012, this cathedral will be exactly 100 years old.  The first official game at Fenway, before 27,000 fans, saw the Sox defeat the N.Y. Highlanders (think Yankees) 7 – 6 in 11 innings.  A finer blessing for a new ball park one could not imagine!

I’ve been to Fenway many times, and drunk deeply of its sounds, its aroma, its vibe, its spirit.  There is nothing like wandering around outside before a game visiting the shops and enjoying a beer and a sausage from one of the many vendors. Maybe two beers. OK, three tops!

Imagine my surprise then, when riding up Rt. 41 just north of Naples one day, I glanced to my right and saw what looked like a bar at the end of a small strip mall row of commercial establishments.  Its name, proudly displayed above door, said it all:  Lansdowne Street.  Stop the car!

Gateway to Heaven - in Naples

A few brief moments later, and I walked into Boston, and into Fenway Park -  a little slice of paradise from up north, right before my eyes.  Decorated top to bottom, front to back, with all things Boston, Lansdowne St. is “the” official southern outpost of the Red Sox nation, complete with a miniature version of the “Green Monster.” 

The "Green Monster" - South!

A truly delightful find, it served cold beer and good, inexpensive food.  And the nicest surprise of all – it has two offerings of a genuine New England lobster roll – the mini (itself the size of one you might receive back home) and the gigantic version (I didn’t even try-the mini was just right). 

Boston, Fenway, lobster rolls, beer.  Can you say heaven?  A little slice of Boston, and it’s in Naples, Florida, of all places.  Further proof that there is a God.

Have you ever seen a cooler men's room?

Mark Twain Quote:  “Baseball – the very symbol, the outward and visible expression of the drive, and push, and rush and struggle of the raging, tearing, booming nineteenth century!”