Usually I make it a point to not talk about non-Red Sox things here. With only a few exceptions, I try not to make it look like I’m fishing for hits by mentioning other events.
This is one of those few exceptions.
I actually had another standard-type post ready to go for today, until I saw what day it would fall on. It didn’t seem right to just plug along like normal. So, I decided to talk about last April 15 a bit.
I was at the Red Sox game that day. I love the Patriots Day game. I can get up in the morning, and head out to the park. I can catch the game, and be back home before dinner. Everyone in the stands, especially lately, is talking about people they know in the race. They all have the race tracked on their phones, or are getting calls with updates from people along the route. The crowd starts thinning as people leave the game to watch their friends cross the finish line. It’s an atmosphere that’s completely unique at Fenway. To top it off, last year the game finished with a walk-off victory. What a day.
As usual, I headed off to the Orange line to get back to the car and head home. When I got on the highway heading north, I noticed a police car with lights a flashing taking the same exit heading south. Then, a minute later, two more cop cars came flashing down the southbound lanes. Then two more. And two more. And more and more. And more. I called home to say that I had no idea what was going on behind me, it was apparently. something big enough that it might make the news, but that I was north of it so don’t worry. It wasn’t until I got home that I found out what happened.
And that was the extent of my experience. Which made me feel terribly guilty. Obviously people knew I was at the game that day. The natural questions in the days to follow were about where I was at the time. I figured out that I was actually probably on the orange line. Sometimes I would catch myself when reporting that. I’d start to say, ‘So if I was a few minutes later…” But I knew there was no good finish to that sentence. If I was a few minutes later…I would have been stuck in traffic? Was I really going to pretend that was a “close call”? Traffic? Delays? Annoyances? I was never in danger. I was never in chaos. I went happily on my way until I got home.
So I hated answering the questions. Don’t ask me. Ask the people whose lives were shattered. Ask the people who were still running around trying to figure out what to do. They’re the ones whose stories you needed to hear.
I was north of it.