The smell of fresh cut grass. The sight of the Green Monster walking up from the concourse. The cacophony of Boston’s regionalized accents, from Saugus to Southie. There’s nothing like taking in a Red Sox game from Fenway Park.
It’s agonizing to sit through a cold, snowy (not really this year) winter to get to sit in parkas, or windbreakers if we’re lucky, to watch first pitch on Opening Day. I haven’t lived in Boston for a number of years, but even if I’m not in the stands, I flip on NESN from my MLB.tv subscription and watch every first pitch to start off a new campaign.