The grass is perfect and the old ballpark is squeaky clean — it was scrubbed and disinfected for viral pathogens for three days in March.
Spending a few hours at Fenway Park is good for the soul.
The ballpark is totally silent. The mound and home plate are covered by tarps and the foul lines aren’t drawn yet, but it feels as if there still could be a game played today. The sun’s warmth reflecting off The Wall feels good. The tug of the past is all around, but the future is the great unknown.
In Fenway, zoom is still a word to describe a Chris Sale fastball, not a video conferencing app.
Old friend Terry Francona and the Cleveland Indians would have been here this weekend and there would’ve been big hugs by the batting cage and the rhythmic crack of bat meeting ball.
But now gaining access is nearly impossible and includes health questions and safety precautions and a Fenway security escort. Visitors must wear a respiratory mask and gloves, then practice social distancing larger than the lead Dave Roberts got on Mariano Rivera in the 2004 ALCS.
Carissa Unger of Green City Growers in Somerville is planting organic vegetables for Fenway Farms, located on the rooftop of the park. She is one of the few allowed into the ballpark. The harvest this year all will be donated to a local food pantry. Unger is used to interacting with thousands of fans on tours and is startled to see visitors.
“It’s nice and peaceful and quiet today, but we miss seeing the tourists and we obviously miss having the games,’’ she said. “It’s good to see somebody up here.’’
Stan Grossfeld can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.