The Road to Fenway

I think this was the second . . .

. . . or the third . . .

. . . bench-clearling brawl.

I mean, who could keep track?

Oh, wait. That one's obviously the third . . .

. . . or maybe the fourth . . .

. . . or perhaps the fifth?

Anyway. To be at Fenway, to see several bench-clearing incidents, and three -- three -- Red Sox managers ejected, one has to first get to Fenway . . .

. . . and that entails a lot of walking.

. . . and luncheon . . .

. . . and perhaps some liquid refreshments along the way.

I love liquid refreshments . . . who doesn't?

And who doesn't love Bukowski's?

Nobody, that's who.

More walking . . .

. . . and then we knew we were close to Fenway because we saw a triple rainbow over the Pru.

(Thanks to Da Dowd for the dust-less rainbow shot.)

Speaking of Da Dowd: Anatomy of a photobomb:

One . . .

Two . . .

Three . . . bam.

And then . . .

Glorious Fenway Park.

I'm no Red Sox fan -- although I'm not nearly as virulent an anti-Red Sox fan as I used to be . . .

. . . but you gotta love Fenway.

. . . and you gotta love baseball . . .

. . . and mostly, you gotta love our seats.

 Oh, and I am also a fan of Big Pop, as I call him.

Big Pop declared war on David Price after getting pegged with a pitch, which invoked retaliation, which resulted in the aforementioned bench-clearing lah-dee-dahs, lots of ejections, lots of vociferous booing from the local fans -- especially the ones I was sitting with -- lots of commotion and drama and enthusiasm and hilarity . . .

. . . and did I mention the great seats?

It all made me very hungry.

And then, alas, the game was over, the good guys won in extra frames, and we finally remembered to take a selfie with the field -- filled with groundskeepers doing their due diligence -- behind us . . .

Say "geeeeeeeeeeks"

. . . until handsome strangers came along and took a photo for us . . .

These strangers. Aren't they cute?

Great night at Fenway.

And MB's shirt says it all.....