Monday morning dawned frigid and blustery, and with the Boston Red Sox still in search of a bat and a Groundhog Day prediction of six more weeks of winter from Punxsutawney Phil.
But Truck Day, as Dr. Seuss would say, came just the same.
Well, sort of.
It was a minuscule crowd that braved the cold to loll around and watch 20,400 baseballs, 1,100 bats, 20 cases of bubble gum, 60 cases of sunflower seeds, and hundreds of batting gloves, helmets and articles of clothing loaded onto the equipment truck. (Which, for the first time in 28 years, isn’t being driven down to spring training by Al Hartz.)
Since 2003, Truck Day has served as the automatic reset button, no matter how ugly or painful the previous season had been. And a popular occasion, to boot. It used to be a block party on Van Ness Street between Jersey and Ipswich. Marching bands played to crowds several people deep; children missed school and waved homemade posters. The late, great Johnny Pesky served as the ‘Grand Marshal’ a couple of times in the aughts. In 2013, infielder Will Middlebrooks made an appearance and fielded questions from the media.
Attendance has been lower in recent years, congruent with public sentiment, but team personnel appeared to outnumber fans this year. And the small cohort of fans who showed up did so for different reasons.
Workers load up for spring training during Red Sox Truck Day outside Fenway Park.(Nancy Lane/Boston Herald)
Some came to voice their frustrations within earshot of team officials, only to find out chief baseball officer Craig Breslow and president Sam Kennedy were not on hand.
A few stragglers wandered over because they happened to be walking by as Boston police officers pretended to handcuff Wally, the team’s mascot, over the hood of their vehicle.
One onlooker remarked that the lackluster turnout and atmosphere was indicative of the damage team leadership has done to their relationship with the fan base, and the increased apathy and resignation of the ‘Fenway Faithful.’
Yet there were also scattered reminders that this is the time of year when hope springs eternal in Boston: first-timers whose eagerness to partake in this Red Sox tradition outweighed, or at least balanced out, their frustrations with the direction of the club.
“We love the Red Sox,” said Rita Holopainen, a lifelong Red Sox fan whose favorite players remain J.D. Martinez and Mookie Betts. Wheelchair-bound and bundled in a large blanket coat, the elderly New Hampshire native enjoyed her first-ever Truck Day with her family.
“It always helps get in the mood for the season, and (it’s) worth the cold,” said Holopainen’s granddaughter. “We’re excited to see the growth of Roman Anthony, Marcelo Mayer, give them a little more time to grow into their positions. A little bummed about (Alex) Bregman, but hoping that they’re gonna pull out something big and surprise us all before the season starts.”
Caleb Fitzpatrick grew up a Red Sox fan in Tampa, Fla. Coming up to Boston to watch a truck depart for a destination two and a half hours south of his hometown would have been counter-productive. Moving to Boston two years ago made the event significantly more convenient.
“I wanted to come out and experience Truck Day, I’ve heard about it, and wanted to feel it in person,” Fitzpatrick said. “It’s a sign of life. Like there’s a tangible kind of hope and excitement you can feel here. Just, it’s something baseball-related, Red Sox-related, is happening. Spring is on the way.”
The truck pulls away from Fenway Park after workers loaded it for spring training during Red Sox Truck Day on Monday. (Nancy Lane/Boston Herald)
At 12 p.m., a flatbed full of upbeat team employees and Wally and his mascot sister Tessie led the vehicle onto the road for the first few blocks of the long journey to the club’s Fort Myers, Fla. spring training complex.
Punxsutawney Phil could be wrong. The Red Sox may prove the doubters wrong, too. We’ll have to wait and see on both accounts.
Spring training, meanwhile, waits for neither groundhog, nor fan.