Red Sox Rolling Rally!
Kevin Millar tips his cap to me -- Seriously!
Chad and I headed into the Fenway area around 8pm Friday night to stake out a spot near the beginning of the "rolling rally" to be held throughout Boston on Saturday. We were armed with tents, sleeping bags, munchies, and plenty of layers. We left behind our sanity.
We figured finding a spot to park the car overnight would be the biggest challenge considering all of the parking restrictions, but we quickly found a spot in the public garage inside Fenway. It only seemed fitting! The attendant insisted we were fine to leave the car in the garage overnight, and that we would be able to get it anytime after 5am the next day. Lesson learned: Believe in the Red Sox; don't believe in Fenway parking garage attendants.
With the car all settled, and only a few people already camped out at the beginning of the parade, we decided to grab a bite and a few drinks at the Cask n' Flagon before pitching our tent for the night. Perfect choice. The music most of the night was Sox related, and fans were still riding the high of two nights earlier. If you didn't know any better, you'd think we just won that night.
Around midnight, we headed out to look for a spot. After gathering some info from a chatty security guy, we decided to move slightly away from the very beginning of the parade directly outside of Fenway. The deciding factor was the security guy telling us he calls the rats around there "Big and Bigger". We moved away, catching a glimpse of Bigger on the way. Believe in the chatty security guy.
Barricades were already being set up along Boylston Street. We picked a spot on Kilmarnock, at the intersection of Boyston. Chatty security guy told us the duck boats would be passing down Kilmarnock and turning onto Boylston. Again, believe in chatty security guy.
For the next few hours, Chad and I attempted to sleep, trying to ignore a group of young drunk guys yelling, "Sweep!" at least 718 times. I also tried to ignore the conversation between two strangers (in more ways than one) outside our tent who chatted on and on about, among other things, wrestling, Star Trek, and drugs (direct quote: "Crack never did anything for me"). At this point, I started to question being there, considering who the company was. But it was too late to turn back.
The people started coming in bigger numbers somewhere around 5am. At that point, I gave up on sleeping, made a trip to Dunks, prepared my sign, bundled up some more as the rain began to fall, and started counting down the hours.
Somewhere around 7:00am or so, the main cop manning the intersection of Kilmarnock and Boylston started telling people to move further down a block, that the parade wasn't starting at that intersection. At this point, the barricades started at Boylston but there were none at all on Kilmarnock, the side street where the parade was listed as starting. A good chunk of people grabbed their things and started heading for the next block, while others began plotting a riot -- mostly those who had spent the previous seven-plus hours staking out a spot at that intersection. Chad asked a couple cops farther down Kilmarnock, I called my dad to check online, and with everyone else (including chatty security guy) telling us the parade would indeed start at Kilmarnock, we stayed put. One couple who had spent the night started heading one block up, and I overheard one of them say, "If the parade doesn't start one block up, I'm going to stab that cop." Hope the cop's okay.
By about 8am, barricades had been set up all along Kilmarnock. Chad and I had staked out our spot at the very front. I was not moving come hell or high water, or little kids. The place was packed, the cops were stopping people from coming any further on our side of the street, people were popping up on rooftops, the players started arriving. D-Lowe pulled his beige Hummer through the crowd as we chanted, "D-Lowe! D-Lowe!" Also coming through our way were Pokey, Francona, Varitek, Youkilis, and Manny and Papi together in a yellow Hummer. These arrivals definintely helped pass the last two hours, which felt like an absolute eternity, especially when it started to really rain.
At about 10:20 we finally heard the roar of the motorcycle cops coming around the corner. When we glanced the first duck boat, it was mass pandemonium. My heart was pounding away, I was screaming and jumping up and down. I realized what it must have felt like to see the Beatles in America for the first time. We had an incredible view -- the duck boats were about five feet away.
The Old Timers were first in line. I found myself screaming for Butch Hobson, a sure sign I'd gone over the edge since I actually find him a little creepy. Also saw Oil Can Boyd and a favorite of my dad's, Luis Tiant. Very cool start.
I believe next up (it was a bit of a blur) was a boat that had the owners in the back, holding the trophy. Larry Luchino pointed to my sign! Johnny Damon came by, flashing the peace sign, and the crowd went insane.
Soon after was my boy Millar. I made a sign (have to give credit to the idea to Chad) that said, "Kevin, Thanks for Picking Boston Over Japan." Since I was right up front, I was able to hold the sign in front of the barricades for a clear view. Millar saw it, pointed as he read it, tipped his hat and gave me the now-routine hand guns! I was, um, beside myself, to say the least! And Chad captured it perfectly! (See above picture).
After that it was all gravy. I somehow missing Curt Schilling entirely (I think he was on the same boat as Millar,which explains why I didn't see him). Also missed Foulke, Cabrera and Bellhorn, but managed to catch everyone else. Another sign I was going over the edge was when I found myself screaming ecstaticly at the sight of Mike Timlin. I mean, he's money, but I don't think I would have been any more excited to see Matt Damon, and that somehow seems wrong.
The parade itself took no more than five minutes to pass through, but it was one of the coolest five-minute stretches of my life. I came within a few feet of a group of guys who will go down as unforgettable legends in Red Sox history. It was well worth sleeping on Boylston, and even worth waiting three more hours to get our car out of the Fenway garage and then driving 10 hours home to Maryland on almost no sleep. It was all totally, completely worth it, and the perfect ending to an incredible week.
Huge thanks to Chad for taking all of the pictures -- I was way too preoccupied, and he did an awesome job!
posted by Erin/Sull @ 11:34 PM
<< Home