Cheers from (no) peanut gallery

Red Sox are expanding their efforts to give allergy sufferers a crackerjack game day experience

June 12, 2011|By Andrew Ryan, Globe Staff
  • A sign warned baseball fans that in the area they were about to enter they needed to check their peanuts at the door.
A sign warned baseball fans that in the area they were about to enter they… (Dina Rudick/Globe Staff )

Peanuts have permeated Fenway Park for a century: cracked between fingers, crunched beneath feet, and hurled through the air by vendors with the arms of center fielders.

The song tells fans, “Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack,’’ and the faithful comply. At a typical game at Fenway, spectators peel 3,000 bags of peanuts, haphazardly scattering a half-ton worth of shells.

That was why 8-year-old Silas Clark was so scared.

“We’d spent eight years telling him that peanuts could kill him,’’ said his father, Andrew, 43, who treasured ballgames with his dad and tried to bring his son to a Red Sox game in August. “There were peanuts in front of us. Peanuts behind us. He could smell them. He could see people eating them.’’

With tears, the Clarks left in the second inning because Silas has a peanut allergy and had trouble breathing. But the Barnstable family returned to Fenway last week and sat nine innings in seats where shells did not go crunch underfoot.

Peanuts were banned last Sunday from an entire 226-person section of the ballpark for the second time this season as part of a growing effort to accommodate fans with allergies. From ivy-covered Wrigley Field to the new Nationals Park in Washington, nearly half of Major League Baseball teams set aside seats for at least one game without peanuts and Cracker Jack — which also contains peanuts.

“We could never chance it down in the regular seats with peanuts everywhere,’’ Karyn Wildes, 44, of Marshfield, said last Sunday at Fenway as her 11-year-old daughter Madison tapped a black-and-pink baseball mitt on her knee while waiting for a foul ball. “It just makes her feel normal. There’s so many things she can’t do,’’

At birthday parties, these are the children who cannot eat the cake. They sit isolated at specially designated tables in the cafeteria. On schools trips, parents pack their snacks and when other children go help themselves, they reach for a bag of grapes.

But there they were at Fenway last Sunday in an airy block of seats looking down on the Green Monster. Children with cotton candy stuck to their chin and pennants and foam fingers like the one worn by 7-year-old Jack Maloney, who proclaimed to all that the Red Sox were number one.

“He wants to do what all the other kids are doing,’’ said his mother, April Maloney of Lexington. “He can go to school tomorrow and tell everybody, I went to a Red Sox game.’’

But for fans like Brian Gannon, 37, peanuts are as a much a part of the baseball ritual as beer and foul balls. They stuff their pants pockets with peanuts before games or, as Gannon did last week, stop by a supermarket for a “small’’ 48-ounce bag on the way to the ballpark.

Advertisement
Advertisement
|
|
|
|