New at Fenway, 'the best seats in baseball'

On a glorious, sun-filled day this week, firefighter Brian Rayne scored tickets on the Monster, while some of his friends were settling for lesser Fenway seats, most of which were shrouded in shadow. "Oh, you poor chump, you're over there in the shade," he says into his cellphone. Hatching after-game plans they pick a place to meet, and he declares, "I'll be the one with the ball."

Indeed, life on the Monster raises spectating to a newly interactive level.

Spill a drink from the front row and it's liable to topple over the wall and land on the left-field grass. Cast a glance downward, and the glistening sweat on outfielder Manny Ramirez's neck comes into view. Best of all, because the Monster is a virtual home-run magnet, fans get lots of chances to snag a ball of their own - although some are better fielders than others.

In the sixth inning, a Toronto player cracks a homer that bounces off the Volvo sign above the Monster - and into the palm of Mark Mayo, a beefy vending-truck driver from Everett, Mass. But Mayo flubs the catch - and the ball ricochets back onto the field.

"Ohhh," moans the crowd.

"What ya got, a fist full of thumbs?" yells one of his buddies.

"Hey, I was on live TV," he retorts, trying to redeem the moment.

"Yeah, they saw you drop it, live!" Within seconds, his and his buddies' cellphones start ringing - with family and friends reporting that they did see Mayo drop the ball.

Matt Mazzarella, a dark-haired body-shop worker from Everett, has his own missed-catch tale. During batting practice the other day, a ball was heading just below the top of the Monster. "So I reach over the wall, and my buddy grabs my legs to keep me from falling," he says. "I've got my $500 camera in one hand, and the ball hits me in the fingertips - and I almost drop the camera."

No matter what their catching ability, everyone can succeed at one Monster pastime - harassing the rival left-fielder.

But not everyone is totally taken with the seats. Robert Murphy, a computer salesman who has season tickets along the third-base line, observes that from the Monster it's impossible to see plays in left field - as they happen below the sightline. "Besides, concession and bathroom lines are shorter over there," he says. Still today he's on the Monster and loving it.

The seats are an effort by team owners to raise more revenue in baseball's smallest park. They'll bring in about $1 million this year, and they're sold out for the season - except for a handful of standing-room slots available every game day.

Big-spender Jeff Fraser is doing his part to boost Sox revenues. He figures he's spent $1,200 beyond the ticket prices - on drinks, food, and parking. "But when people get up here, they don't care how much money they're spending," he says. "Because just being up here is great."

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