BOSTON -- Good morning from the Edes cave, where like so many of you I can hardly comprehend that only a week has passed since Patriots Day.
I came up from the clubhouse at Fenway Park last Monday afternoon shortly before 3 expecting to write about an inspiring walk-off win against the Tampa Bay Rays, while my colleague Scott Barboza planned to tell you about how Terry Francona’s former players were looking forward to going to Cleveland to be reunited with their old manager the next day.
Instead, Kenny Powtak, who works for the Associated Press, told us as we arrived back in the press box that he’d heard two explosions. Moments later, we received the terrible news of what had occurred at the marathon finish line. Scott headed to Kenmore Square where runners were being held back from the finish line, while I congregated with many of my colleagues in front of a pressroom TV, watching events unfold, then trying to ponder what to write at a time like this. Baseball was so far, far away in that moment.
Only a week later, there are some halting steps back to normalcy. I told Dan Roche on WBZ-4 Sunday night after that day’s doubleheader loss against the Royals that maybe I should paraphrase David Ortiz and ask what’s wrong with the [expletive] Sox, a throwaway line that would have been unthinkable a little more than 48 hours earlier, when a terrorist suspect was still at large and the Sox had called off Friday night’s game against the Royals.
So many of us have grown up reading lines like this in the newspaper listing of that day’s results:
“Red Sox vs. Royals, ppd., rain.”
No one ever imagined anything like this:
“Royals at Red Sox, ppd., terrorist attack.”
But the games came back, and so did the fans in a weekend of catharsis, remembrance and perhaps the beginning of some healing.
We are not back to normal, not by a long shot. Not when there are dozens still in Boston hospitals, recovering from grievous wounds.
Not when there are folks gathered in churches, temples and mosques, private homes and funeral parlors, mourning the loss of loved ones.
Not when there is a terrorist suspect lying in a hospital bed, reportedly writing down answers to questions law enforcement authorities have about the hows and whys of what took place.
Not when, at 2:50 p.m., exactly one week after the explosions on Boylston Street, activity will come to a stop throughout the city as we observe a moment of silence, and church bells toll their mournful melody of sorrow.
But it is good to be able to write about baseball again, and I will be posting a number of updates today before the Red Sox play the Oakland Athletics tonight at Fenway Park. But this story, of what it was like for those at Fenway Park on Saturday, will stay with me for years to come.