Common Clay

     This past April I attended a game at Fenway Park, something I hadn't done in a long time. My brother-in-law Pete bought the tickets, my sister Mary-Jo bought the beer, the Sox won by a lop-sided score: it was great.
    But as we left the park, I saw something that disturbed me. A crowd was waiting by an overhead door in the back wall of the park hoping for a glimpse of the players as they whizzed by in their limos.
    When I was a kid, we were likely to see the players on the same trolley as us, headed for home. During the off-season, the players worked as short-order cooks or carpenters. What has happened? We've become a nation of silly adulators. Most disturbing.

Former Sox utility player.