I felt that last night watching the Red Sox beat the Angels, 6-0 at Fenway Park. It started out in the usual angst-ridden way. Angel hurler Jered Weaver had mowed down the first eight Red Sox hitters. Even though Clay Buchholz was almost as effective through three innings, it just seemed that Weaver, with all his stuff working, could not be beaten on this night. You know the feeling.
Then, my 14-year old son and I noticed the sky above Fenway–turning a brilliant mix of azure and pink as the sun set behind the old ballpark. Seconds later, Darnell McDonald sent a rocket over the Monster, shattering the rear car window of some unfortunate fan. Red Sox 1, Angels 0–on the first Boston hit of the night. Good omen.
Later, after walking Mike Lowell semi-intentionally to get to a rookie, Ryan Kalish launched his first grand slam into deep center field, giving the Sox a rocking-chair 5-0 lead. Add to these moments a brilliant over-the-bullpen-fence catch by Torii Hunter (robbing Beltre of a sure HR) and the night became all the more memorable.
Walking back to our car along a quiet Beacon Street–far from the madding Kenmore Square crowd–it struck us again how lucky we were to witness, first-hand, pure Boston baseball.