Another sickening feature at Fenway was on display yesterday, namely its antiquated structure. Ryan Freel [sp?] got hit in the head with a pickoff throw and was on the field face down for a few minutes. He gradually got up and walked off the field, to mild disinterest from the crowd. A few minutes later I went downstairs to get the required Fenway Frank and an overpriced, yet yummy, beer. As I am returning to the ramp to go back up to the seat, here comes poor Friel on a gurney on his way to the hospital. The EMT's [all of whom were named either Danny Sullivan or Angel Martinez] had to push the poor guy, still in uniform, through the drunks and merry makers to get him help.
Hey, your mileage may vary, but that's a punk move to force they guy to run the gauntlet. Problem is, it's not a move at all, just a necessity in The House That Booze Built.
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