On baseball’s Opening Day that year, I was 12-years-old. It was a Tuesday, and it was going to be the biggest day of my life.

Julie McNamara, my new best friend, had extended the invitation from her father. “Would you like to come to see the Red Sox with us next week? It’s Opening Day at Fenway.”

Would I? Would I? Are you kidding me? The only big deal event I had ever attended was when my mom took me to the Ice Capades at Boston Garden. But Fenway Park?! W-O-W.

I loved baseball. At that age, I was making the transition from diehard tomboy with a good right arm, to discovering the world of garter belts and lipstick. Nevertheless, the baseball hormone lived. I was still attending every Pony League game I could get to – especially ones where that certain blue-eyed shortstop was playing ….

I was really excited when Julie invited me. “I have to ask my mother. When is it?”

Julie said, “It’s next Tuesday. We have to get out of school.” This was scandalous. It was so rare for somebody not to be in school. Usually, kids were only excused in mid-morning to attend a grandmother’s funeral.

“So how do we do that?” I asked. Julie said my mom would have to come up with a legitimate excuse. And maybe she would have to bend the truth a little bit. I guess my mother must have called Mr. McNamara, not only to learn about the day, but also, how to finagle my release.

The following Tuesday morning, I walked into the principal’s office before home room and handed in the note addressed to Mr. Fink. Julie arrived from her bus and did the same.

After the third class, about eleven-ish, we both went to the principal’s office to be excused. Mr. Fink himself came out to the counter. “I see that you both have dentist appointments on the same day. I hope it’s nothing serious to be out for so long,” he said, with a huge grin on his face. “You may go. Have a great time at the dentist!” And he winked. He knew Mr. McNamara was waiting outside in his car.

I remember being stunned that something like that could happen and Mr. Fink could be in on it. I don’t remember the ride to Boston or the parking lot, but I do remember walking city sidewalks through a residential neighborhood to the cement cathedral, Fenway Park.

It was sunny, but cold. I think the dark concrete corridors in the stadium still held the dank February air deep within their walls. I remember being chilled as we stepped out of the tunnel into the park’s sunshine to find our seats. My first reaction was to marvel at how big the field was. HUGE. It didn’t bear any resemblance to the Pony League field at home. It was beautiful, clean, and the grass was already green. In mid-April.

And then there was the famous big left field wall, the Green Monster. Just looking at that enormous wall, I could not imagine anyone hitting a ball over it except maybe my hero, Ted Williams. It was later that I learned Ted was a left-handed hitter, and not likely to hit toward the left field monster at all. I was excited at the possibility of seeing Ted in person on Opening Day. Alas, he was badly injured during spring training and missed the first month of the season.

The opposing team that day was the Philadelphia Athletics. I had no clue about a team from Philly. At age 12, I knew the Sox and the Yanks. And about their rivalry. That was it.

I was in dreamland through the whole game. My lasting impressions – to this day – are of the roaming vendors carrying their big boxes of popcorn, crackerjacks, and hot dogs. A few of them even accurately threw to their customer. I could not believe the staggering amount of people, mostly men, who were there. In the middle of the week! Didn’t these people have jobs?

Many of the men smoked cigars, the prevailing aroma of the afternoon, something I’d never been exposed to. The memory lingers.

I was so thrilled seeing in person, the players I knew from Curt Gowdy’s radio broadcasts: Jimmy Piersall, Jackie Jensen, Billy Goodman, and be still my heart, Mel Parnell on the mound.

Mr. McNamara taught me how to keep a line score, which I thought I’d never forget. I proudly used that skill through my teens. But it’s gone, lost to the great cobweb of time.

Yet most of the memories of that never-to-be-forgotten day are clear today: Sammy White’s stance in the batter’s box, George Kell throwing from third to first for the out. Parnell’s zinging curve ball. I was enthralled, thrilled, and oh so happy.

What a gift that day was. The following year, Mr. Fink accepted our written dental excuses again. And as he winked, he said, “I wish I were going to the dentist with you.”

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at Moby.32@hotmail.com.