Going to go place a bet in honor of today being Red Sox opening day...
2026 Red Sox thread
- Thread starter LordSensei1958
- Start date
I bet Roman Anthony to hit a HR, will pay $83
Baseball is so back, bringing tens of thousands of fans to Fenway Park to watch the game, sure, but to also feast on American pastime food and beverage staples.
The Fenway Frank, peanuts, and beer will of course be available and plenty. But Fenway’s concessions provider, Aramark, has some new ballpark goodies to choose from.
The one that’s most likely taken over your social media feed is the Lobstah Poutine. The dish, which comes in a boat-shaped box, comes with Cavendish Farms fries and Luke’s Lobster meat. It’s then topped with bacon, and clam chowder (instead of gravy).
Surf & Turf Dog at Fenway Park. Courtesy of Aramark
Continuing the theme of marrying New England staples with ballpark foods, another item coming to the park is the surf and turf dog. A Kobe beef hot dog gets topped with Luke’s Lobster meat, bacon from Savenor’s, chives, and butter on a toasted brioche bun.
Guests can also expect mini empanadas in corn shells (choice of beef or chicken, and it comes with salsa) and spicy grilled cheese sandwiches with Cabot’s Vermont sharp cheddar and a mango-habanero salsa.
Mini empanadas at Fenway Park. Courtesy of Aramark
Here’s where you can find each of these new menu items:
Spicy grilled cheese at Fenway Park. Courtesy of Aramark
For more concessions options, visit the MLB’s guide to food at Fenway Park here.
Opening Day for the Red Sox starts Thursday, March 26, when they face the Cincinnati Reds. But guests can finally try these new menu items starting Friday, April 3, the Red Sox’s first home game against the San Diego Padres.
The Fenway Frank, peanuts, and beer will of course be available and plenty. But Fenway’s concessions provider, Aramark, has some new ballpark goodies to choose from.
The one that’s most likely taken over your social media feed is the Lobstah Poutine. The dish, which comes in a boat-shaped box, comes with Cavendish Farms fries and Luke’s Lobster meat. It’s then topped with bacon, and clam chowder (instead of gravy).
Continuing the theme of marrying New England staples with ballpark foods, another item coming to the park is the surf and turf dog. A Kobe beef hot dog gets topped with Luke’s Lobster meat, bacon from Savenor’s, chives, and butter on a toasted brioche bun.
Guests can also expect mini empanadas in corn shells (choice of beef or chicken, and it comes with salsa) and spicy grilled cheese sandwiches with Cabot’s Vermont sharp cheddar and a mango-habanero salsa.
Here’s where you can find each of these new menu items:
- Lobstah Poutine: C7 – Homeplate First Level, LC2 – Big Concourse, Angry Orchard Terrace – Second Level, Sam’s Deck Concessions – Fourth Level
- Surf & Turf Dog: All Clubs
- Mini Empanadas: Stand 1
- Spicy Cabot Grilled Cheese: Jersey Street
For more concessions options, visit the MLB’s guide to food at Fenway Park here.
Opening Day for the Red Sox starts Thursday, March 26, when they face the Cincinnati Reds. But guests can finally try these new menu items starting Friday, April 3, the Red Sox’s first home game against the San Diego Padres.
Baseball is so back, bringing tens of thousands of fans to Fenway Park to watch the game, sure, but to also feast on American pastime food and beverage staples.
The Fenway Frank, peanuts, and beer will of course be available and plenty. But Fenway’s concessions provider, Aramark, has some new ballpark goodies to choose from.
The one that’s most likely taken over your social media feed is the Lobstah Poutine. The dish, which comes in a boat-shaped box, comes with Cavendish Farms fries and Luke’s Lobster meat. It’s then topped with bacon, and clam chowder (instead of gravy).
Surf & Turf Dog at Fenway Park. Courtesy of Aramark
Continuing the theme of marrying New England staples with ballpark foods, another item coming to the park is the surf and turf dog. A Kobe beef hot dog gets topped with Luke’s Lobster meat, bacon from Savenor’s, chives, and butter on a toasted brioche bun.
Guests can also expect mini empanadas in corn shells (choice of beef or chicken, and it comes with salsa) and spicy grilled cheese sandwiches with Cabot’s Vermont sharp cheddar and a mango-habanero salsa.
Mini empanadas at Fenway Park. Courtesy of Aramark
Here’s where you can find each of these new menu items:
- Lobstah Poutine: C7 – Homeplate First Level, LC2 – Big Concourse, Angry Orchard Terrace – Second Level, Sam’s Deck Concessions – Fourth Level
- Surf & Turf Dog: All Clubs
- Mini Empanadas: Stand 1
- Spicy Cabot Grilled Cheese: Jersey Street
Spicy grilled cheese at Fenway Park. Courtesy of Aramark
For more concessions options, visit the MLB’s guide to food at Fenway Park here.
Opening Day for the Red Sox starts Thursday, March 26, when they face the Cincinnati Reds. But guests can finally try these new menu items starting Friday, April 3, the Red Sox’s first home game against the San Diego Padres.
And only the grilled cheese is even close to being a smart ballpark food choice.
The first time Terry Francona stood in front of the Red Sox, you could almost hear the room daring him to lose it.
This wasn’t some fresh, wide-eyed clubhouse waiting to be molded. This was Boston in the early 2000s, where every bad inning turned into a referendum and every quote became a weapon. The year before, the 2003 team won 95 games and still managed to feel like it was one fight away from combusting. Grady Little left Pedro Martinez in too long in Game 7 of the ALCS, Aaron Boone hit the homer, and the whole city went to bed staring at the ceiling. Again.
Then the winter came, and the Red Sox made a move that didn’t come with fireworks. They hired Terry Francona on December 3, 2003.
No splashy press conference promise. No “sheriff in town” routine. Just Tito, the guy with the calm eyes and the raspy voice, walking into the biggest pressure cooker in baseball like he’d been there before.
And that was the point.
The clubhouse he inherited had talent pouring out of every locker and tension hanging in the air like Fenway fog. Manny Ramirez was Manny. Pedro had his own gravitational pull. Curt Schilling arrived with a World Series ring, a mouth that never stopped, and an intensity that could either lift you or suffocate you. Jason Varitek was the captain, trying to keep the peace while also carrying the weight of a franchise that hadn’t won since 1918.
Theo Epstein was 29, the front office was bold, the media was relentless, and the Yankees were still the Yankees. You didn’t just manage games here. You managed oxygen.
Francona stabilized it by refusing to act like the main character.
That sounds small until you remember what Boston had been living through. The Red Sox didn’t need a dictator. They didn’t need a philosopher. They needed a grown-up who could keep a room full of alpha personalities from turning every rough patch into a civil war.
Francona’s gift was that he could be firm without being theatrical. He could let stars be stars without letting them run the place. He didn’t embarrass guys in public, which mattered in a city that could turn one bad quote into a month-long soap opera. He kept the daily temperature down.
And once the temperature drops, the baseball can breathe.
The 2004 team won 98 games. They scored 949 runs. They hit 222 homers. Manny drove in 130. David Ortiz, in his first season as a full-time monster in Boston, hit .301 with 41 homers and 139 RBI and started building the legend that still feels larger than the ballpark. Varitek caught everything and punched A-Rod in the mouth in April, which honestly felt like the whole rivalry changing shape in real time.
But the season wasn’t the story. The moments were.
Because the Red Sox didn’t just need a manager who could stack a lineup card. They needed someone who could keep them from flinching when the old nightmare showed up again.
And it did.
ALCS, 2004. Down 0-3 to the Yankees. Dead. Buried. National punchline. Every fan knew the script because we’d watched it for decades. The Yankees didn’t just beat you; they made you feel silly for believing.
Then Game 4 happened, and the Red Sox were down late, again, and Mariano Rivera was on the mound, again, and it felt like the last door slamming.
This is where Francona’s steady hand becomes more than a personality trait.
In the bottom of the ninth, with one out, Kevin Millar walked. Dave Roberts pinch-ran. Everyone in New England knew he was going. Rivera knew he was going. Jorge Posada knew he was going. The Yankees still couldn’t stop it. Roberts stole second, and Fenway sounded like it was trying to tear itself off the foundation. Bill Mueller singled him home. Extra innings. Ortiz walked it off in the 12th.
That steal gets the statue moments, but the decision-making and the trust behind it matters too. Francona pushed the right buttons without turning it into a circus. He didn’t manage scared.
Game 5, Ortiz again, walk-off homer in the 14th. Game 6, Schilling’s bloody sock and a 4-2 win. Game 7, 10-3, Yankees flattened. The Red Sox became the first team ever to come back from 0-3 in a postseason series.
You can’t fake the emotional control it takes to survive that. You can’t do it if your clubhouse is fractured, if guys are freelancing, if every mistake turns into blame. Francona gave them a baseline. When the storm hit, they didn’t scatter.
Then came the World Series against the Cardinals, a team that won 105 games and had Albert Pujols in his prime. This was supposed to be the part where the Red Sox finally ran out of magic.
Instead, Boston swept them.
Ortiz hit .412 in the Series. Manny hit .412 too. The pitching held. The defense didn’t melt. The Red Sox played like a team that expected to win, which for this franchise was basically a new language.
When the final out settled into Edgar Renteria’s glove on October 27, 2004, it wasn’t just a championship. It was a release. It was 86 years of noise finally going quiet.
And yes, the roster was loaded. Yes, the front office built a juggernaut. But don’t brush past the manager like he was just holding the clipboard.
Francona didn’t win because he gave some Hollywood speech. He won because he made Boston feel normal inside the most abnormal pressure imaginable. He gave a combustible group a center of gravity. He made it okay to fail on Tuesday without turning it into a crisis on Wednesday. He let Ortiz become Ortiz, let Manny be Manny, let Schilling burn hot, and still kept the room together.
That’s what turned 2004 from another scar into the year the curse died.
Tito didn’t just manage the Red Sox. He made them steady enough to finally finish the job.
This wasn’t some fresh, wide-eyed clubhouse waiting to be molded. This was Boston in the early 2000s, where every bad inning turned into a referendum and every quote became a weapon. The year before, the 2003 team won 95 games and still managed to feel like it was one fight away from combusting. Grady Little left Pedro Martinez in too long in Game 7 of the ALCS, Aaron Boone hit the homer, and the whole city went to bed staring at the ceiling. Again.
Then the winter came, and the Red Sox made a move that didn’t come with fireworks. They hired Terry Francona on December 3, 2003.
No splashy press conference promise. No “sheriff in town” routine. Just Tito, the guy with the calm eyes and the raspy voice, walking into the biggest pressure cooker in baseball like he’d been there before.
And that was the point.
The clubhouse he inherited had talent pouring out of every locker and tension hanging in the air like Fenway fog. Manny Ramirez was Manny. Pedro had his own gravitational pull. Curt Schilling arrived with a World Series ring, a mouth that never stopped, and an intensity that could either lift you or suffocate you. Jason Varitek was the captain, trying to keep the peace while also carrying the weight of a franchise that hadn’t won since 1918.
Theo Epstein was 29, the front office was bold, the media was relentless, and the Yankees were still the Yankees. You didn’t just manage games here. You managed oxygen.
Francona stabilized it by refusing to act like the main character.
That sounds small until you remember what Boston had been living through. The Red Sox didn’t need a dictator. They didn’t need a philosopher. They needed a grown-up who could keep a room full of alpha personalities from turning every rough patch into a civil war.
Francona’s gift was that he could be firm without being theatrical. He could let stars be stars without letting them run the place. He didn’t embarrass guys in public, which mattered in a city that could turn one bad quote into a month-long soap opera. He kept the daily temperature down.
And once the temperature drops, the baseball can breathe.
The 2004 team won 98 games. They scored 949 runs. They hit 222 homers. Manny drove in 130. David Ortiz, in his first season as a full-time monster in Boston, hit .301 with 41 homers and 139 RBI and started building the legend that still feels larger than the ballpark. Varitek caught everything and punched A-Rod in the mouth in April, which honestly felt like the whole rivalry changing shape in real time.
But the season wasn’t the story. The moments were.
Because the Red Sox didn’t just need a manager who could stack a lineup card. They needed someone who could keep them from flinching when the old nightmare showed up again.
And it did.
ALCS, 2004. Down 0-3 to the Yankees. Dead. Buried. National punchline. Every fan knew the script because we’d watched it for decades. The Yankees didn’t just beat you; they made you feel silly for believing.
Then Game 4 happened, and the Red Sox were down late, again, and Mariano Rivera was on the mound, again, and it felt like the last door slamming.
This is where Francona’s steady hand becomes more than a personality trait.
In the bottom of the ninth, with one out, Kevin Millar walked. Dave Roberts pinch-ran. Everyone in New England knew he was going. Rivera knew he was going. Jorge Posada knew he was going. The Yankees still couldn’t stop it. Roberts stole second, and Fenway sounded like it was trying to tear itself off the foundation. Bill Mueller singled him home. Extra innings. Ortiz walked it off in the 12th.
That steal gets the statue moments, but the decision-making and the trust behind it matters too. Francona pushed the right buttons without turning it into a circus. He didn’t manage scared.
Game 5, Ortiz again, walk-off homer in the 14th. Game 6, Schilling’s bloody sock and a 4-2 win. Game 7, 10-3, Yankees flattened. The Red Sox became the first team ever to come back from 0-3 in a postseason series.
You can’t fake the emotional control it takes to survive that. You can’t do it if your clubhouse is fractured, if guys are freelancing, if every mistake turns into blame. Francona gave them a baseline. When the storm hit, they didn’t scatter.
Then came the World Series against the Cardinals, a team that won 105 games and had Albert Pujols in his prime. This was supposed to be the part where the Red Sox finally ran out of magic.
Instead, Boston swept them.
Ortiz hit .412 in the Series. Manny hit .412 too. The pitching held. The defense didn’t melt. The Red Sox played like a team that expected to win, which for this franchise was basically a new language.
When the final out settled into Edgar Renteria’s glove on October 27, 2004, it wasn’t just a championship. It was a release. It was 86 years of noise finally going quiet.
And yes, the roster was loaded. Yes, the front office built a juggernaut. But don’t brush past the manager like he was just holding the clipboard.
Francona didn’t win because he gave some Hollywood speech. He won because he made Boston feel normal inside the most abnormal pressure imaginable. He gave a combustible group a center of gravity. He made it okay to fail on Tuesday without turning it into a crisis on Wednesday. He let Ortiz become Ortiz, let Manny be Manny, let Schilling burn hot, and still kept the room together.
That’s what turned 2004 from another scar into the year the curse died.
Tito didn’t just manage the Red Sox. He made them steady enough to finally finish the job.
