Fenway Park

Some things on this earth atomic number 18 just magical. To liftly it may be the beach at sunset, to others it may be as simple as the drive to work in the morning. For me that place is Fenway car park in Boston Massachusetts. Going to a game in Fenway is a smorgasbord of delightful feelings. Even the walk up to the clumppark is many thing to behold. Walking with hund trigger-happys of passionate fans, all decked out in their red sox T-shirts, jerseys, and of coarse that iconic navy hat with the red B on it. I feel like I belong there with this nonionised group of strangers.There is such a since of family as I see spate from the T car I was on and chatted with. A few nose candy yards ahead I could hear a Lets Go Red Sox intone as people around me began to join in it became more tantalizing to do so myself. After all this was my squad, our team, and this was our year That was the constant attitude of a Sox fan. Just as the team would look like they were prime to make a pu sh for the World Series they would lose in heartbreaking fashion and mostly to the hands of the damn Yankees. As me, my uncle, and my pa approach the park down Yawkey Way, the air is filled with a cabal of smells.As you pass the sports bars the smell of beer and cigar smoke is thick in the air. As you pass a different vendors the smells of nachos and pretzels capture you, and finally the smell of Fenway Franks (the ball parks signature hot dogs) hit you like a baseball. Im not just a sports nut but a food fan too, so I enjoy the aromas as they tempt me. The robust scents of sausage and onions fill the air along with smoke from near by grills. As you walk closer and closer to the stadium you are barraged with people shouting programs.Get you programs, three dollars out side five inner(a) the park and scalpers try to sell you amazing or best in the park tickets. As we near the openings I initiate to shamble in my pocket for my ticket. As I get it out I notice the cracks and pop s between my Nikes and the asphalt. The sound of boiled peanut shells, plastic spoons, and the everyday lighter or beer can. The slick pavement and lunatic drivers keep me from ideate too much but still my mind races as I see the teams championship banners and I think masking to where I was when we won those years. I look down a gated lley that reads players and coaches entirely and I think If I was just there twenty proceedings earlier I would have gotten a glimpse or tear down a word in with one of my favorite players. As I drift back in to reality I see some(prenominal) long gunstocks at gate A this was unusual but my strong drink were to high to be broken. As I slide into what looks like the shortest line my Uncle Geno grabs me and says, lets go so my dad and I abide by him. I was curious where we could be going and I really didnt want to have to musical note out of line but I knew geno had something up his sleeve for us.Geno leads us around the perimeter of the park and to gate D. There was close no line at this gate so we slide in easily. Geno had done it again, always the go to guy on street knowledge and somehow he knew everyone. When we make our way ult countless vendor to the tunnel the crowd roars. As I step through the tunnel into the light the glare of the setting July sun hits me. When my eyeball finally readjust to the light I look around and almost have trouble with my depth perception because of how big and crowded Fenway is.As we begin our treck to our seats we pass countless passionate fans I look to the scoreboard, the gargantuan Budweiser neon sign, and to the enormous coke bottle and marvel at their size. then there it is the Green Monstah the 39 foot tall left field of force wall and the luxurious monster seats. The crowd roars again and the home team comes out of the dugout and takes the field. I could feel the excitement as it arise to a fever pitch as my anticipation exploded and I joined in the Lets Go Red Sox chant . bpm