Mayor
Menino and David Ortiz at Fenway Park during the 2013 AL Division Series.
Mayor
Menino loved sports. Especially baseball.
The
last time I saw him was in the Houghton Mifflin box at Fenway Park at the end
of September, and he told me he was certain the Red Sox were going to re-sign
Jon Lester this offseason. I told him that — with all due respect — he was out
of his mind. We bet dinner on it, and when the mayor signed his book over to
me, he wrote, “I can’t wait to have McDonald’s after I win the bet. Keep their
feet to the fire. Tom Menino.’’
The
mayor had third base loge box seats but in his later years, he was a regular
visitor to the third level of Fenway Park. On many game nights, he could be
seen walking past the EMC bar behind home plate on his way to the Reebok box.
In his
final season attending Fenway, he walked with the aide of a 29-inch Louisville
Slugger baseball bat cane, presented to him by local philanthropists Gary and
Lynne Smith. The bat features an inscription touting “Mayor Thomas Menino” and
“World Series Champions, 2004, 2007, 2013.”
“Those
were the years I was mayor,’’ Menino would say proudly, holding his baseball
cane aloft.
Menino
never got past the EMC bar walkway without being stopped by multiple Fenway
patrons, all of them happy to be at the ballgame and delighted to bump into the
mayor of Boston. I always made a point to get into his ear and ask how the
Globe was treating him. He’d grimace and say, “Oh, the Globe is killing me.’’
Probably
not. But the mayor was a sensitive guy. He demanded respect. He never forgave
the Patriots when they tried to build a stadium in South Boston without his
help back in the mid 1990s. He was not a fan of the Krafts and he wasn’t
particularly close to the Yawkey Trust folks who ran the Red Sox through the
end of the 20th century.
All of
that changed when John Henry and friends bought the Boston Red Sox in December
of 2001. (Henry also purchased the Globe in 2013.) The new owners of the Red
Sox made it a point to include Mr. Mayor in virtually all decisions, and that
love was returned tenfold. You don’t have to be Bob Woodward or Carl Bernstein
to know that there was a mutual love-fest between the Red Sox and Boston City
Hall over the last 13 years.
Henry’s
point person, Larry Lucchino, is a veteran of partnerships forged between cities
and teams. A wily attorney, schooled at the foot of the great Edward Bennett
Williams, Lucchino built Camden Yards in Baltimore and Petco Park in San Diego,
and he understands the importance and delicacies of public/private
partnerships.
Lucchino
did not make the same mistakes that Bob and Jonathan Kraft made when they
thought about building a stadium in South Boston. The Sox were intent on
expanding and improving their ballpark, and the footprint around the park, and
that required cooperation from the city.
So the
“new” Red Sox consulted the mayor before doing anything. Anything.
It sometimes felt as if Terry Francona was sending his lineups to City Hall
before posting them on the clubhouse door at Fenway.
It made
for a great relationship. The Sox took care of the mayor and he took care of
them. Check out some of the Fenway footprint deals that were struck in the
final days of the Menino administration.
It
wasn’t all about baseball with Mayor Menino. He was part of the parades with
the Patriots, Celtics, and Bruins. He was proud to be the mayor of the city of
champions. He won almost all of those corny “bets” with mayors of other cities
who were competing against Boston teams in championship rounds.
Menino
came up big in our city’s moments of crisis after the Boston Marathon bombings.
Mr. Mayor was at Brigham & Women’s Hospital with a broken leg when the
tragedy unfolded, but he vaulted out of bed and got in front of the effort to
make our city safe again.
His
local sports malaprops are legendary. Mr. Mayor had “Varitek splitting the
uprights,’’ and spoke of “Wes Wekler, Jim Lomberg, Donald Sterns, Vince
Wilcock, Gonk, and KJ and Hondo (Kevin Garnett and Rajon Rondo).’’ He was
always a good sport about it, even when ESPN featured him bollixing names of
Hub sports heroes.
Details,
details. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that he was the proud
mayor of the City of Boston and he presided at a time when our town did
something no town has ever done: win championships in all four major sports in
a period of six years and four months.
The man
was a Boston sports fans. Just like you. Rest in peace, Mr. Mayor.
