Dear Red Sox Owners,
I
grew up on the Boston Red Sox. It was rare for one of my birthdays not
to be spent piling into the station wagon, driving south for 3 hours,
getting to the park in time to see BP and catching a game at Fenway.
When my dad and some family friends sprung for front row seats behind
the dugout for my 10th birthday, I felt like royalty. Mo Vaughn could
hear me cheer! I still brag about getting those seats.
Before I ever got interested in golf, girls and
summer jobs, the summertime meant watching the Sox and playing home run
derby in my friend's driveway. After my dad got home from work each
night, the rest of the night would be dedicated to seeing how many
singles Nomar could belt off the Green Monster.
Fall was a season of disappointment, but at least I
wasn't a Yankees fan. Every morning before school through the winter I'd
catch Sportsdesk so I'd be the first to know about a trade. By Opening
Day, I was always convinced we were beginning The Year.
This year was different. I actually made a vow last off-season to refuse to spend money on the Sox before the All Star Break.
I didn't just not buy tickets, I didn't meet friends at a bar for a few
innings or freshen up my merchandise either. This wasn't even hard. I
didn't find myself longing to check StubHub or consider heading over to
get some standing room seats at game time. I just flat out didn't care. I
spent my childhood dreaming of living just blocks from Fenway, so close
that I could walk. Now I do, but I don't. And this has nothing to do
with how awful this season was. My Red Sox hiatus helped me realize how
tainted and forced my fandom has been for the last few seasons.
Fenway is no longer a place where I get to enjoy the
Fenway experience. Instead I see it as a place where a Fenway
experience is for sale. Every nook and cranny of the park has been
filled with as many seats as possible. Every inch of once majestic green
walls has been filled with the ad of a corporate sponsor. Every moment
from before first pitch through the top of the ninth seems like a
calculated and cheap way to remind me, or someone around me, that "Yes,
you are indeed at Fenway Park."
For every Sully from Southie trying to start a
"Let's go Red Sox" chant - there are a hundred Japanese businessmen
taking a picture with their souvenir ice cream helmet. For every old man
in the back row of the grandstands, with his radio headset to help him
keep score in his program - there are a thousand college girls debating
if they get to hear "Sweet Caroline" in the 7th or the 8th.
When I was four, my parents brought my sister and I
to our first Sox game. The usher taking tickets looked down at me,
looked up at my dad, then back to me to ask "Is this your first time at
Fenway?" He didn't tear my
ticket just so I'd always have something to hold onto from that game.
Today, I bet parents are presented with a brochure of overpriced
ticket-stub-framing-options to help capture their experience.
And these things make me bitter. And I hate that.
This
season better have been rock bottom. You have been blessed by the
Baseball Gods with a reset button. You dug a hole that seemed too deep
to get out of and too miserable to live through. But now you are
standing with a clean slate in your hands. Every parent in history has
said "it isn't about falling down, it's how you stand back
up..." Well it is time to stand up. It is time to decide how you want to
define Red Sox Nation. It is time to
decide if you want to win by outsmarting the rest, or by just trying to
be the Yankees 2.0. It is time to decide if you want kids to dream
about being so close that they can see each blade of grass at Fenway, or
if they get to have their picture taken with Wally. It is time to decide if you want to get back to
having the best diehard fan-base in sports, or just the easiest
bandwagon to jump on. It is time to never be the 2011 or 2012 Sox ever
again.
To do this, here are a few tips to help you on your way:
1)
Reduce ticket prices. If you want to make a splash, if you want to do
the unprecedented, then do something for the fans. You just shed the
salaries that required the current prices in the first place. You've
made enough on this franchise to now own other cash cows. This shouldn't
be about your ROI anymore. Standing room seats don't need to cost $35
above the Gulf sign. Make Fenway a place where working class parents can
go to help their children fall in love with a game.
3)
Its baseball. The NBA is an entertainment spectacle. The NFL is an epic
spectacle. The NHL is was an exciting spectacle. Baseball is America's
Pastime. This isn't a game about the song and dance. This isn't a game
about getting pumped up. Baseball is the sport without a game-clock. It
is timeless. Strip away some of the distractions. Embrace the sport.
On my desk there is a "Save Fenway Park" bumper
sticker. I lived through the years that the owners talked about tearing
down my Mecca. Then you all came along. You gave Red Sox fans something
most had spent their lifetime without. You did something for us for
which we have to be eternally grateful. Your team broke the curse. The
players you bet on became legends. The strategy you embraced changed the
sport. And you did it all while waking up Red Sox Nation and restoring
Fenway Park.
Now it is time to create your legacy. It is time to
do it the right way. It is time to rebuild this club. It is time to
inspire this fan-base. It is time to Save Fenway Park.
Sincerely,
A Lifelong Fan, hoping to be a Fan for a Lifetime
Nicely written. One comment to make; none of what happened in 2004 could have been possible without Billy Beane. John Henry tried to hire him on, and Beane declined. So the Red Sox ownership simply took his revolutionary ideas and used them to win in 2004. Give Beane and Paul DePodesta credit instead of "red sox owners."
ReplyDeleteThanks! You are absolutely right. For that reason alone, I hope Oakland does well this postseason and I think they will.
ReplyDeleteTo be fair, I did refer to it as the strategy they "embraced".
That's right, you did.
ReplyDelete