Word: fenways
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...Neill stood, not on Pennsylvania Avenue, but on Jersey Street in Boston. The crowd was dressed for opera, but there was no opera house. The reporters were jotting down notes for the sports page, not for op-ed columns or music reviews. The upper class had descended on Fenway Park for the first game of the World Series...
Considering that one Series site was Boston's venerable Fenway Park, the kind of irregular and intimate bandbox where baseball got its start, the return to basics was appropriate. Advance scouts for both clubs, who had been observing the opposition teams since July, reported few weaknesses. The Reds were stacked with powerful hitters, high-octane speed, superb defense and one of the best bullpens in the game. The Red Sox entered the Series with equally potent hitting, nearly flawless defense and a pitcher named Luis Tiant. The Cuban righthander, who claims to be 34 but is widely believed...
...Reds discovered that in the first game. On a raw autumn day at Fenway, Tiant put on a one-man show. Though he was called for one balk on his pick-off move to first base, the wily pitcher more than made up for it by tossing a five-hit shutout. Twisting and turning on the mound like a particularly well-fed cobra, the portly Tiant mesmerized the Reds with his dizzying motion, then drove them to desperation with an improbable assortment of pitches and speeds, including a rainbow curve that seemed to take 30 seconds to reach the plate...
...both teams. The Reds were going into Game 6 in Boston poised just one win from victory. The Red Sox, looking for their first series title in 57 years, were determined to force a seventh game. Instead of playing ball, though, the players had to watch rain splatter Fenway Park, and the game was postponed until Sunday...
...cross-hatched cuts of Fenway's grass, the flag blowing out to straight away center, the packed Park shouting "Loo-ee, Loo-ee." Next slide, Freddie Lynn's arching home run finding its way to the Sox bullpen, click, the ugly scene of Lynn's body sprawled at the base of the Monster, a dissolve and a fade-in with the scoreboard Reds 6 Sox 3. Click, the Carbo miracle settling into the center field seats, click, Doyle out at the plate, the victory postponed, Morgan robbed by the golden glove of Evans, and finally the dancing, prancing Carlton Fisk...