David Kanter | Bringing Fenway to Philly

I kind of felt like I'd been there before.

Maybe it was the shameless opportunists selling Obama '08 buttons - one for $2, three for $5 (how could I pass one up?) I guess they did sort of remind me of those annoying venders hawking foam fingers and pennants along Yawkey Way and Lansdowne Street.

Or maybe it was hearing one of those 20-something, graduate school-looking, kind of hippyish, why-am-I-wearing-a-blazer-with-jeans, Obama volunteers tell his story of devotion: "I stood in this type of line for three hours last winter, in the freezing cold. But, oh!, was it worth it!"

Yeah, that definitely did remind me of the old-timers you hear shouting from Cask'n Flagon about the time they snuck into the bleachers with their buddies to watch Teddy Ballgame "hit it to where the red seat is today. You know, the longest home run, ever. Yep, I was there."

It definitely hit me though when I saw an old guy walking with his Obama '08 T-shirt followed by the teenager wearing his anti-Bush, anti-Cheney garb. Yep, I thought to myself, just like a father sporting his vintage Yaz #8 jersey followed by his son donning his "Jeter Sucks, A-Rod Swallows" shirt. (Who do I hate more, Bush or Jeter? Real tough call.)

As I stood in what seemed like an endless line just to get my standing room spot at Independence Park on Friday - from where I was unable to see Obama, just like getting stuck behind one of those damn poles down the left-field line! - I was reminded in many ways of my annual trips to Fenway Park to watch my beloved Red Sox. My roommate, a fellow member of Red Sox Nation, stood in lieu of my usual Sox-watching companion - my dad - but little else was different.

Oh, and the Sausage King also wasn't there, which really sucked.

And maybe there was one more thing that set this apart from game day at Fenway: the diversity. To be honest, Fenway these days is infiltrated with white, upper-middle-class suburbanites. Sure, there were plenty of uppity college and graduate students at Barack's "rally for change."

I seriously heard a guy talking about how he was going to write some thesis on "the contemporary narrative of arrested development" (Barack's young, white supporters really aren't elitist!). But there was a good racial mix. Penn students, believe it or not, were mixing with local Philadelphians.

Aside from those few things, I really felt like I'd soon be filing through the turnstiles onto Yawkey and then making my way into Fenway.

And what really made it feel like game day in the Fens was that buzz - a sort of palpable, overpowering positive energy that I've only experienced waiting outside of Fenway Park right before an evening game.

Having been to a Phillies game last fall when they were only one game back in the wild card, let me tell you Phillies fans, you haven't felt that buzz. A section of empty seats in September in a wild-card chase just doesn't cut it. Sorry.

When we finally reached our spot on the green, the buzz grew stronger and stronger as the anticipation grew. And then we waited. And waited. It was kind of like a rain delay and the positive energy slowly began to seep away.

But Barack eventually emerged and the crowd went wild.

And how was he? To be perfectly honest, it kind of sounded like every other Obama speech you've heard over the last six months. But in the spirit of this Passover season, had it been worse, it still would have been enough for us.

And as His disciples poured into the city, honking horns, chanting "Yes we can!" it felt like a small victory on a long journey.

In New England, after every Red Sox season ended in disappointment, we always used to tell each other to "wait till next year." But in 2004, Red Sox Nation's "next year" finally came.

And whether its Barack or Hillary, this Nation's next year really can't come soon enough.

David Kanter is a College freshman from East Falmouth, Mass. His e-mail is kanter@dailypennsylvanian.com. David Versus Goliath appears on Wednesdays.

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