Yesterday at this time I was in bed. Not only was I in bed, nice…warm….cozy….bed, but I was about to get some red sox tickets.

At about 11.00am I was debating whether to go to the store to buy some of life’s necessities, you know, like, food. The cupboards had been bare a few day’s and my utter laziness had me living off canned green beans and ketchup (which isn’t half bad, I recommend it.) However, the part of me that has little more of a life than baseball was telling me stay home, Today’s game is going to be great. And as I convinced myself deeper that starving was a small price to pay for the Red Sox, the phone rang.

Campbell: Hello, Kevin?

Me:No, this is his daughter, can I take a message?

Campbell I’m really sick and I need to unload some sox tickets (insert my heart stopping here) Is he around? They’re Larry’s seats, so I can’t waste them.

(Side note, Larry is my father’s Red Sox season ticket-holding fan. Seats 30 rows back of first. Beautiful, wonderful, I only get these once or twice a year seats. I love Larry, but more importantly, I love his seats.)

Me: Um, yeah, hold on let me see if I can find him.

When I find him he informs me that the Softball team he’s coaching has practice and he can’t go. The heavens opened up and the tickets became mine. I called up one of my Yankee fan friends (because an argument is always fun, right?) And hopped into the car to go to Campbell’s house to get the glorious pieces of paper. The tickets are about $75.00 a piece, and though he said not to worry about it, I brought a 50$ check (because that would still be a steal). He appeared in the door, clad in pajamas and looking sicker than sick, so I felt bad when I gleefully took the tickets and he refused my money. But that wasn’t going to ruin my day.

We raced to Riverside to catch the T, only to find the lot full. So we did the next best thing and parked right to a “No parking on game day, Violators will be towed” sign at the holiday inn next store and ran to the train. By this time it was 1.45, and we were getting anxious.

We got to Fenway at around 2.20. And as I strolled up the ramp to the park, my boy Bellhorn was up to bat. The game was great, as I’m sure you all know. I had been at the park (in Larry seat’s, yet again, I’m a lucky girl) two weeks before. The warm sunshine of yesterday was a gift in comparison to the cold blustery hell of the time before.

We sat next to two loud, drunk Hispanic guys who insisted on yelling at Manny in Spanish and hitting on me (oh, baby, you like Mark Bellhorn, you pretty baby, he wouldn’t strike out with you, would he?) My Yankee fan friend tried desperately to get them to stop, but he’s a skinny little guy, and a Yankee fan, so he had no chance. Things got back to normal and all was well, by the eight inning, my Yankee boy was singing Sweet Caroline with the Hispanic guys, and that was that.

Clement pitched an absolute gem. I have been to about 50 games n the last 10 years and this is only the second CG (DLowe’s no-hitter, being the first, I kick ass.) in which I’ve been in attendance. It’s a beautiful thing.

Initially, I was excited when I heard Clement had signed on with the Red Sox. However, after thinking about it, I got a little scared. I mean, the guy has the mental fragility of DLowe (who happens to be my favourite pitcher to this day, so that’s not a knock.) And he, until this point has only had “good stuff” which, essentially, means nothing at all. But now, he hath won me over. I will bow down before him, even if his arm turns to shit, because he was the king yesterday, and though I didn’t pay to go, had I, it would have been worth every penny. So thank you, Matt, for a great game.

Afterwards, We hung around the park, not having anywhere to rush too, until almost everyone had filed out. There isn’t much like the site of an empty Fenway par. The highlight reels start rolling in your head and you can almost see the history that’s happened there. Yankee boy had to almost drag me out. I could have stayed forever.

When we got back to riverside, the car had not been towed. Subway was eaten, a Sun’s game was missed, and that was the day.

And where am I now? In school, Dreaming of Fenway Park and wishing I could go back. Just to sit amongst the empty seats, replaying in my mind all the glory I have witnessed there. Not just yesterday, but over the past ten years. There’s no place I’d rather be. My next game is 19 June. Can't wait.