Hello, my name is Ken Kunes and I am a diehard and lifelong, all eighteen years of it, Red Sox fan. I love watching baseball, I love talking about baseball and I love writing about baseball. In the upcoming weeks, I hope you will enjoy reading what I write about baseball. I can ensure you that you won't agree with me all the time; you ought to read anyway. That way you can understand what it's like being trapped in an area, western Massachusetts, that is fast becoming Yankee Country and is seemingly nonexistent to most in the other end of the state. I think you will enjoy it. Below in my first column. It is about a place near and dear to the hearts of all Red Sox fans, Fenway Park.

There is a place in Boston, Massachusetts that has a very special meaning to me. It has a special meaning to a lot of New Englanders like me. And probably just as many people outside of New England feel it is special, too. But what makes my feelings and the feelings of so many others unique about this place is that there is a whole country filled with people who don't understand or care about its significance. It isn't Beacon Hill or Fanuiel Hall or even the Boston Harbor. Not the Freedom Trail or Paul Revere's house or a place where a Kennedy may have lived. The place in Boston that resonates so deeply with me and many others is Fenway Park. Yes, that's right, an outdated, antiquated, cramped and oddly shaped ballpark. This place, to me at least, is as important as any other place in Boston. American history books never mention the many great events that occurred in this edifice, but they also snub Ebbets Field, Yankee Stadium and Crosley Field. That doesn't mean that Fenway Park isn't important, or that it isn't as much a part of America as the house of a silversmith credited with doing far more that he did. Fenway Park IS America. It is places like this that make this country so great.

Like anything worth doing, watching a game at Fenway can be a chore. But it should be a chore that is relished because countless Americans have suffered through the same tribulations. It is the suffering that makes us the same. If a person is going to drive to Fenway Park to watch a game, they must be prepared to get lost. It is a fact; no one has ever gotten to Fenway Park without getting lost the first time they've tried. As you drive along roads in Boston you can look to the right and see Fenway Park. If you have sharp eyes you can see who is batting on the large screen in centerfield. Fenway Park is right there, but you can't make a right turn to get there. Boston is called "the Hub" because its roads look like spokes in a wheel. The only problem is that the spokes only lead to $.25 per axle roads or nowhere. Don't pay too close attentions to the signs either because the "Fenway" exit my lead you to the fens away from Fenway Park. But if you are good enough to get off at exit 18, the Prudential exit, and make a turn on to Storrow Drive you're almost there. Turn on to US 1 and merge right not left. The merge left sign temptingly includes the word "Fenway," but you may end up in Brighton. Well, it's all pretty simple after that, it's just a few right turns and you're there. Then you run into the next problem.

No where in the vicinity of Fenway Park is there a place to park that doesn't cost the proverbial "arm and a leg." All around the park are parking lots that will cost you twenty dollars. You could park your car on the street if you can find a spot. Just remember to grab the first spot you see because it will be the last you'll see. Parking is pretty easy if you have enough cash. Restaurants and gas stations even shut down to provide parking. It's there, but expensive.

All these troubles can be avoided it you just take the T. For residents of western Massachusetts, if makes sense to park in Newton and ride into Boston. There are no confusing roads or expensive parking lots out there. That route is pretty easy, too easy for Boston. To confuse travelers who may have thought that they conquered Boston they give you a stop on the T called "Fenway." The smart Sox fans get off at the "Kenmore" stop. It is actually closer to the park than the stop named after the park.

Now all the difficulties are truly over. You can get off the T and walk to Fenway with the multitudes the way you are supposed to get to any real ballpark. You can begin to smell the park a few blocks away. I think it smells like America. Freshly cut grass mixes with sausages, onions and peppers, which mixes with roasted peanuts. The vendors outside the park sell the best food. Make sure that your get you sausage with peppers and onions outside the park, it's better. Yawkey Way has an Old World feel before a game. The vendors trying to sell their stuff to anyone who walks by with the echoes of men selling programs in the background. Even the occasional man who walks up and down the street quietly asking if you have any tickets. It is done quietly so as not to alert the Boston Police, who are all around, to this illegal activity.

As the magical one and half-hours before game time nears, the time at which the gates open, fans begin to huddle around the closed gates and wait. You can lean up against an eighty-year-old brick wall or on a green garage door that looks just as old. You can close your eyes and know when the gates are opening. Not because the gates creak horribly, which they do, but because the fans begin to clamor around. They jockey for position next to the gate that appears to be raising the fastest. Finally, after everything, you can hand an old man your ticket and walk into Fenway Park's old brick and mortar halls and, for a moment, picture life the way it was so long ago.

As you walk around the corridors of Fenway Park you will notice several boxes with the words "Jimmy Fund" emblazoned on the front. That is where you are supposed to put your spare change. Also, you'll be bound to run into someone selling official Red Sox programs, the programs outside aren't official. It makes no difference which one you buy but any real baseball fan will buy one to keep score. If you want to amuse yourself, try buying one with a twenty-dollar bill. The seller will fumble through about seventy-five one-dollar bills and then ask if you have anything smaller. He has to act like he can't possible break a twenty with the money he has. Now it's time to get up to the field and find your seat. As you walk up the first base walkway you can see the field rise up before you, from its green walls to the green grass to the brown dirt. Over your right shoulder are the roof boxes and the retired numbers of Red Sox greats. Ted Williams, Joe Cronin, Bobby Doerr and Carl Yastrzemski have their numbers retired. They nine, four, one and eight for those of you keeping score at home. Straight-ahead is the famous wall that is called "the green monster" by those who aren't familiar with baseball. Those of us who know call it simply "the wall." Dick Radatz was "the monster" and no one hits "monster balls," they hit "wall balls."

It is thirty-seven feet high with a twenty-three foot high screen on top of it. At the left field line the marking tells you that it is three hundred and ten feet away from home plate. It was three hundred and fifteen for years and is purported to be closer to three hundred and 5 feet. In left-center, three hundred and seventy-nine feet from home, it merges into another wall that fences in center field. That wall runs at an angle that pushes the wall four hundred and twenty feet from home when it meets the bullpens slightly right of center. The bullpens, added in 1940 to help Ted Williams hit home runs, push the dimensions in to a distance three hundred and eighty feet out in right field. The fence runs almost straight across out there before it curves abruptly to the foul pole. The pole, which is affectionately called Pesky's pole, stands three hundred and two feet from home plate. The pole is named after Red Sox shortstop Johnny Pesky. It is said that he must have hit at least five of his career total of seven home runs around that pole. That is a beautiful outfield. It isn't symmetrical and boring like others. It has quirks and character and that is why it is loved. It has the shortest right and left field lines along with the deepest center field point in the league. That outfield is part of what makes Fenway Park what it is. It is what separated it from any other ballpark in America. Ted Williams hit a home run in his last at-bat into the bullpens in right. Bucky Dent, New Englanders can insert an expletive, hit a home run just over the wall in left to help sink the Red Sox in a playoff game against the Yankees in 1978. Carlton Fisk pushed a ball off the foul pole in left to win game six of the 1975 World Series. Tony Conigliaro ran into the wall in center making catches. Even Babe Ruth hit some home runs over those walls as a member of both the Red Sox and Yankees.

As special as the wall is, it is so much more than that. The park is tight and fans are practically on top of the game. It makes the fans and the ballpark one. It makes the fans and the team one. It hurts when the Red Sox lose on the road, but it hurts more at home. Conversely, winning is better at home. There isn't a better thing in the world than when that park gets rolling and the Sox are scoring some runs. Everyone's voices join together and become an eruption when a home run is hit or a runner scores. A pole may obstruct someone's view of the action at Fenway, but there isn't a better place to watch a game. It is because you're not watching the game; you're part of the game. That's what makes Fenway so great.

Daubachfan23@aol.com