The Sellout Streak Ended Yesterday

According to the Red Sox, 37,292 fans attended yesterday's 5-0 victory over the Seattle Mariners. It just isn't true. There were noticeable empty patches of seats in the bleachers, grandstands, and boxes. And these patches remained empty all game long, so they weren't seats owned by people going to get a beer or take a leak. These seats went unoccupied for the duration of the game.

Even the parking lots around Fenway failed to fill up. Which is surreal actually.

And there's no shame in it. It was a work day, a school day, a rainy day, and an uninteresting opponent was in town. There's no disgrace in announcing an accurate 32,500 fans in attendance. There is, however, shame in lying.

The Sox want to continue their sellout streak. Their definition of a sellout is that all tickets have been distributed. In other words, the ticket for every seat has been sent/sold/allocated/given-to-charity/given-to-friends-and-family. If the Sox sell a few hundred tickets to StubHub or AceTicket and those companies can't sell them, the Sox technically did sell them. So they call it a sellout.

Fine.

And of course, actual ticketholders are occasionally prevented from attending. Family emergencies, unexpected projects at work, MBTA mishaps, the recently divorced neighbor finally inviting you, with a wink, to The 99 for drinks and popcorn.

But the spirit of the streak is that the ballpark is filled to capacity (or near it). And it wasn't yesterday. Not even close.

And the Sox don't even distribute all their tickets, at least not according to this Globe exposé. They have plenty of tickets, in their possession, undistributed, and going to waste. How is that selling out?

Tuesday marked the 9th anniversary of the sellout streak's beginning: May 15th, 2003.

I remember almost a month before that, I went to a game that the Sox failed to sell out. I was in Row 50 of the bleachers on a blustery mid-April night. The temperature was 41 degrees at the first pitch, and it steadily decreased from there thanks to a harsh wind blowing off the ocean. Jeff Tam couldn't throw strikes in the 7th (the fans around us started a variety of Tam-pon based chants), and the Sox beat the Blue Jays 7-3.

31,440 fans were there. Not a sellout. But everyone there was a fan. Or a psycho. Or a problem drinker. An entertaining collection of people.

It's funny. As the attendance in Fenway has increased, the number of true fans in attendance has decreased. The other night, I actually heard a girl ask her friend, with bewilderment, "you mean you actually stay the whole game?" It was as if her friend had said she stays in movie theaters until all the credits are done.

Fenway Park has become a trendy bar, with a high cover charge, and mediocre entertainment. It's the place to be, the place to meet, the place to be seen.

Yesterday, about 33,000 real fans showed up to honor Tim Wakefield, and see the Sox play. I know the Red Sox Front Office wants to beat the Portland Trail Blazers' sellout streak of 814 games. But how empty is the achievement if it's based on technicalities and semantics?

And I'll take the 31,440 real fans who saw the Sox beat the Jays in 2003. They're better than the 37,292 fake fans that go to Fenway now. And by fake fans, I mean people who aren't actually in attendance (fake numbers generated by the Front Office), and the fake fans who are actually in attendance, but aren't paying attention to the game.

There's very little reality in Fenway Park these days.

Fenway's 100th Birthday Party

Fenway Park turned 100 on Friday. You might have heard about it. It's crazy to think about a facility being used and abused each year by fans and players, and it's still standing. Fires have burnt down grandstands, floods have seeped in from the marshy Fens, and I once threw up in Section 14.

When Fenway Park opened, World War I was 4 years from starting. There was no TV, no radio broadcast of the game. People got their news from telegraph. The Civil War had only been over for 47 years.

Fenway was 28 years old when the US joined World War II. It was 57 when Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon. It was 72 when I was born. And it will probably outlive me,

The ceremony on Friday was tasteful, emotional, well planned, and even moving at times. It brought back memories of childhood, and made me remember why I blindly loved Pedro Martinez and Mo Vaughn. It made me remember that the team we have here in Boston is an integral, inseparable part of life in this town. It made me remember how unreasonably sad I was in 2003 and how unreasonably happy I was in 2004.

It was nice. The players came out, from different generations, from different classes of stardom in this town. Some players I'd never heard of. Some players I saw when I was a kid. Some players I've read about. Wilton Veras, Bill Monbouquette, Nomar, Millar, Lowell, Yaz, Doerr, Pesky, Petrocelli, even Jose Canseco. The obscure, the famous, the infamous.

Even the flyover gave me goosebumps. An F-16 flying wing-to-wing with a P-51. That's just cool. Although the P-51 flew in Europe and the Pacific when Fenway was already 30 years old. A formation of planes ranging from a WW I biplane might have been more appropriate. Or maybe a Marine Corps F4U Corsair and an F9F Panther (the planes Ted Williams flew in World War II and Korea, respectively). But only a history nerd like myself would make such specific suggestions.

I felt like a kid as I watched the proceedings. Then I realized that this was precisely how Larry Lucchino and John Henry wanted me to feel. This was how they got Sox fans to shell out hundreds of dollars to watch mediocre players blow 8 run leads and then be happy about it. They make us feel like we're in Disney World, then they pick our pockets. And we smile as they do it.

Lucchino and Henry didn't care about the Sox until they realized it was an asset they could build up, squeeze, then sell. They see Fenway Park as a tourist attraction, not a ballpark. I used to go to games to see the Sox play. People today go just to go, because it's cool. It's the trendiest bar in town with an obscene cover charge, overpriced beer, and lousy entertainment.

So while it was cool to see Pedro, Nomar, Millar, Lowell, Wakefield, and everyone else. Knowing that it was all part of the Lucchino-Henry money making master plan gave me a bad after taste. Fenway's 100th Anniversary wasn't a celebration of Boston, or the Sox, or Fenway. It was a marketing tool. It was exploitation of the team's most valuable resource. It was about image and money, and "growing the brand," as a business person would say.

And I wouldn't care if "growing the brand" included signing a frontline starting pitcher. But it doesn't.

-The Captain

Francona Going To Fenway Thing

After a lot of hoopla and ridiculousness of media overflow, Terry Francona has now changed his mind and decided to go to Fenway's 100th year anniversary.

I'm happy. I'm not excited to see Terry, I actually couldn't stand him either, however, I'm excited to see the ridiculous reaction he is going to get and how it's going to be a giant slap in the face of John Henry, Larry Lucchino and Bobby Valentine.

Whether I like it or not, Francona was a big part of Red Sox history leading this team to it's first World Series in a gillion years and then was the manager of another one. I hope once Francona gets mentioned the crowd gives him an hour and a half standing ovation and that John Henry, Larry Luchinno and Bobby Valentine feel an inch tall. I also hope that the douche bag players that we have in Josh Beckett, Kevin Youkilis, Dutin Pedroia, Jon Lester and Clay Buchholz all realize that their shitty performances in September last year caused them to have a manager that will throw them under the bus at any moment.

But good for Francona, he should be there, he deserves and applause and the ownership deserves to feel like shit.

Oh yea, ENOUGH WITH THE FENWAY PARK B.S.

Fenway is by far the worst park in america. I would rather be in Tropicana everyday than Fenway. It's uncomfortable, it has polls in the way of viewing, the grandstands are the anti-christ, and you can "make" history. But no, everyone who's from this area live in denial for some reason and want to keep it around. Dumb.

Francona Doesn't Want to Return for Fenway's 100th Anniversary

I read a very interesting column by Dan Shaughnessy today. The Red Sox repeatedly invited Terry Francona to Fenway Park's 100th Anniversary next Friday. And Francona repeatedly declined the invitation.

I completely understand and agree with Francona's decision. The Red Sox Front Office used Francona as a scapegoat, then planted stories in the media suggesting he was abusing pain killers. If I'd been let go in my job, and then my former employers spread rumors about me popping pills, I probably wouldn't want to participate in any celebrations held by those employers.

Call me old-fashioned.

The Sox would love to bring Francona back, trot him out as a PR move. It would remind us all of 2004 and 2007. And it would make it seem like all wounds are being healed. They've been very good at welcoming back former players, especially those that the fans loved. Even Nomar was allowed to technically finish his career in a Red Sox uniform.

Instead, Francona will be a notable absence next Friday. The only living man to manage a World Series winner in Boston. And he won't be at Fenway for the park's 100th Anniversary.

It speaks volumes about how things are done on Yawkey Way. It isn't enough to fire and hire people. The Sox feel the need to besmirch the reputations of those they let go. The more the fans love a departing player/coach, the further the Sox go to soil their reputation.

The Sox make business moves, then turn them personal.

The current owners of the Red Sox have done well. They've given the fans two World Series titles. But would you trust them? Would you take them into your confidence? Would you turn your back on them?

I wouldn't.

-The Captain