I went to my first Red Sox game with my Dad in 1955, when I was 6. It was April — still practically winter in Maine — and I will never forget walking up out of the tunnel and seeing the bright, perfectly manicured green grass and The Wall. It was like Dorothy waking up in Oz, and I have never lost that feeling of awe no matter how many times I have entered that special place.
I grew up with Fenway, watching Ted and Yaz and Boomer and Dewey and listening back home to Curt and Ken and Joe.
The love of the Sox was passed down from father to son to son, and even swept up wife (who has sung beautifully there) and daughter.
Wednesday night was just another great chapter in the journey: Impossible Dream to Boston Strong, Lonborg to Lester. Who knows what’s next, but as long as Fenway stands there will be more generations to feel its magic just as I did that very first day.
Sen. Roger Katz, Augusta
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