For a hundred years she’s stood here,
Heard cheering, seen our tears;
Through all the good times and the bad
Fenway perseveres.
She’s baseball’s great crown jewel,
A treasure – this is why.
Look out there on her field, you’ll see
The ghosts of games gone by.
There’s Babe Ruth standing on the mound,
Ted Williams at the plate.
And someone’s great grandfather
Just came in through the gate.
That’s Yaz patrolling in left field,
In center, Freddie Lynn;
Cronin’s playing shortstop
But Pesky’s coming in.
Luis Tiant whirls and spins
And then he lets it go.
There’s another leaping catch
By Dom DiMaggio.
Jim Rice lines one off the wall
Malzone comes in to score.
Pedroia makes a diving stop,
Or is that Bobby Doerr?
Fisk hits one deep into the night.
Will it be foul or fair?
It caroms off the foul pole
And the cheers still fill the air
Dewey Evans’ rifle arm
Just cut a runner down.
There’s Tony C, still young and strong,
The toast of his hometown.
Roberts steals another base
Pinch running for Millar
There’s Radatz, Lonborg, Jimmie Foxx,
And Pedro and Nomar
Look closely, you can see them all,
They come here every day.
Fenway was and is their home.
It’s where her ghosts still play.
And in the dugout by first base,
There sits the current squad,
Some day they’ll take their place
With all the Fenway gods.
That’s why this place is magic,
Why she’s made such a mark.
She’s one hundred and still going strong.
And long live Fenway Park!
­­­– Dick Flavin