The baseball obsession continues . . .

I felt as if I was in a third-world country because it took me an hour to get to my next destination. I had to take a bus, then a subway train, then a not insignificant walk, some of it uphill while crossing a bridge. At the subway train, only two cars came for the 100 or so folks standing around, so many of us had to wait for the next train. Once it arrived, we were crammed together like sardines, including many sweaty and shirtless folks who were in town for the weekend’s Gay Pride festivities. By the time I reached this destination, I was certainly sweaty, but not shirtless (whew!):

I bellied up to a bar (the Cask and Flagon’s lovely old bar, formerly frequented by the Amazing Ted Williams

to watch my Cubs beat the Boston Red Sox. I must say that the Red Sox fans are delightful! They are unfailingly friendly, even when their team is losing. They are knowledgeable about baseball—not just regarding their team, but regarding other teams, too! And they know the pain of being a Cubs fan, having suffered their own indignities for many decades (in my NYC entries, I will explain why I think their suffering may have been even greater than the Cubs fans’ suffering, given that it involved YANKEE fans—who are the scourge of the earth).

After watching the Cubs notch their victory, I explored the outside of Fenway Park, an intimate and thoroughly charming place, including this clue to the pre-seats on the Green Monster Era:

with cool neighborhood signs as well:

My investigation of Fenway complete, I strolled through the Back Bay neighborhood, exploring Newbury Street. What a lovely Saturday night! The crowds were eagerly eating and drinking at sidewalk café tables, apparently thrilled with the warm summer weather. Not yet feeling social, I ducked into a shop for a pedicure and completed my walk at the Public Gardens. I then called it a night at what I thought was an impressively late hour, given my late Friday night and early Saturday flight!