BOSTON – They gave him a preview of what he can expect tonight just as the first inning closed shop. It was quiet at Fenway Park when the first few frames of a much younger Pedro Martinez appeared on the video board; there was no announcement, and the music was inaudible at first, and so a lot of people weren’t aware it was happening.
Then someone adjusted the volume; it was Billy Joel’s “This is the Time.” And slowly, the ballpark began to stir. There was Pedro with short hair, with long hair, with Jheri curls, with goatee, without goatee, striking out Derek Jeter, walking off the mound during his last game as a Red Sox, Game 3 of the ’03 World Series, then sprinting out of the dugout jubilantly at the end of Game 4.
Now everyone understood. The applause grew a little, then a lot. It was a classy move by the Red Sox, giving the first batch of fans attending this intriguing Red Sox-Mets series a chance to say hello to an old friend, and giving Red Sox Nation as a whole a chance to allay whatever notions the rest of the world may have had about how they intend to greet Martinez tonight.
They’re going to do right by him.
When Pedro walks to the mound in the bottom of the first inning tonight all the old memories, all the old emotions, will come pouring forth in a rush, same as they did last night, when they saw the end of the video, when they stood and cheered and chanted his name, when they nearly blew the roof off the place when Pedro waved at them, and tipped his cap at them, and tried to hug them.
They’ll repeat the process tonight, and this time they’ll try to splinter Fenway’s foundation.
They’ll cheer Pedro when he makes the long walk from the third-base dugout to the outfield warning track for his pre-game long tosses.
They’ll cheer him when he takes his warm-up throws in the bullpen.
They’ll cheer when his name is introduced as part of the starting line-up, when his picture is plastered on the video board. They’ll cheer when he walks back from the bullpen to the dugout.
And they will positively lose their minds when he walks to the mound. They’ll stand. They’ll clap, and stomp their feet, and they’ll chant “Thank you, Pedro!” and they won’t stop until he tips his cap once, twice, three times.
And then they’ll root for the Sox to pound the hell out of him.
“If they clap for me, I’ll be really happy,” Martinez said yesterday, a few hours before the Sox pounded Alay Soler and the Mets, 9-4. “But if they don’t, I’ll just have to say they’re doing it to back up their team, which is the Red Sox, not the Mets.” They know.
It’s something Mets fans can relate to completely, because the same thing Pedro has become to this formerly forlorn team is precisely what he was to the Red Sox. It wasn’t just that he turned the Sox from pedestrian to powerful just by showing up, although that’s what he did, and that’s what he’s done with the Mets.
It was more than that here, and it’s more than that with the Mets. Shea Stadium is more than just a ballpark now on the days he pitches, it’s a place filled with possibility, overflowing with energy, the people flocking there because they know with him on the mound, they might well see something they’ve never seen before. It’s an event. A happening.
A festival.
“When I came to Boston, Fenway Park was all about applauding when things were good and booing when they were bad, and that was it,” Pedro said with a smile. “There was no singing, no dancing, no laughing. I think we showed Red Sox fans how to have a really good time at Fenway Park.” They’ll have a good time tonight, too, one last chance for an old town and an old hero to say hello, and then good-bye. It ought to be a hell of a thing to see.
