The Boston Red Sox, Fenway Park
I hope this post finds you well.
I do not remember my grade, maybe 4th, 5th, or 6th. This was approximately 1970 – 1972. My mother had heard of a group of kids going to watch the Boston Red Sox play, a weekend day trip. A local church planned the event. I think someone had discovered there was perhaps a cancellation and suggested to my mother I could go. I remember I was hesitant to go, but was talked into it.
I live in a small town just north of Boston. The church used a school bus for transportation to and from the ball park. Traveling on the bus, I noticed other kids would turn to me just only for a fleeting moment, then turn away. At the time I was not too sure what this meant. No one ever spoke to me. When we arrived at Fenway Park we were given our tickets. It turns out my seat was an obstructed view seat.
I am not too sure if this was the exact seat, but it was just like this. I specifically remember there was a sign on the beam indicating this was an obstructed view seat. Kind of embarrassing at the time, but I did not know at the time that there are other obstructed view seats at Fenway Park. More glances at me.
The other kids would occasionally look over to me and smirk. Sometimes there would be older guys that would stare at me. I just described his behavior as a tough guy stare. Once I got up to walk around, I noticed people watching or maybe they were following me, not sure, but it gave me the creeps. I do not even remember who won the game, but when it was over, I was glad. Could not wait to get home.
We headed back to the bus. It was toward twilight time when we arrived at the church parking lot. I noticed the other kids on board started to become quiet and occasionally would glance at me and giggle to each other. Then I noticed a church priest started to talk to some of the kids disembarking. The priest, a young man, maybe in his late 20s, started to walk around the bus on the outside, looking into each window. He had a stern look on his face. The other kids were quiet still. When the priest got to my window he stopped and stared at me. He then walked away and did not look at any more windows. He then called over two other kids that were bigger and older than me. They then looked at me. The kids on the bus then started to exit the bus. When I exited the two kids jumped me and started to beat me. I do not remember for how long. I just remember the walk home took forever.
I did not mention this to anyone when I got home. The experience of being isolated, very contrived it was, was designed to scare me and implant fear into me. I will not mention the church for fear of reprisal for telling this story. Today, when I think of that church or the Boston Red Sox, I think of this story.