Soaking in the baseball history at Fenway Park with Jackson Holliday and Colton Cowser

BOSTON — The green door opened, and Jackson Holliday and Colton Cowser stood in awe.

This was the Green Monster, a part of baseball history. Fenway Park opened in 1912 with a wooden wall in left field. After a fire in 1934, the wall was rebuilt into the landmark seen today: the 37-foot, 2-inch beast made of tin and concrete.

Cowser and Holliday were starstruck by the majesty of it. So was I.

We stepped over the ledge into the manual scoreboard. They had to crouch to fit through the tiny doorframe. I, nearly a foot shorter, had no such trouble. It’s become a tradition for first-time visitors to sign the holy walls inside.

Together, we walked through the narrow passageway taking in all of the names that filled the space from floor to ceiling. Some were hard to read, but others, like Orioles reliever Jonathan Heasley, jumped out.

Holliday had been to Fenway Park as a child, trailing after his father, seven-time All-Star Matt Holliday. He thinks he signed the wall during one of his trips, but he didn’t know when or where.

We all searched for Holliday’s name. He called his dad, hoping he would remember what spot they signed, but that didn’t lead to answers. I found a part that had “Jackson” etched on it, no last name or date, in what I thought was childlike handwriting.

Holliday wasn’t convinced.

“I don’t think my handwriting was that good,” he said.

As Cowser found Adley Rutschman’s name, screaming in excitement before criticizing how he signed it, I came across my friend Kelsey Wingert Linch, the sideline reporter and host for the Rockies. I immediately snapped a picture to send to her.

Next, the players went in search of Gunnar Henderson. They FaceTimed him, and Henderson, not wanting to take a break from eating his sandwich, informed them it was on the ceiling.

“That narrows it down,” Cowser deadpanned.

Henderson finished his bite.

“I think it’s on the first or second section,” he added.

That extra piece of information was key. Cowser quickly found it, but Henderson had signed the concrete and it was faded. A bummer for Henderson but a good lesson for Cowser and Holliday to seek a different type of surface.

“I’m going to sign now; go eat your sandwich,” Cowser said as he hung up on Henderson.

Cowser and Holliday went in search of the perfect spot. They walked back and forth down the passageway, Cowser remarking that he wished he had brought spray paint.

Finally, Cowser found his location. There was a beam near the top, about halfway down, that connected the front of the wall to the concrete behind it. It was blank, the perfect spot for Cowser to sign. He put his name, then, after questioning the year, put the date too.

“If they ever replace that, I’m going to be upset,” he said as he stepped back to admire his work.

Holliday found his location nearby. He did the same as Cowser, putting his name and the date.

“It’s very cool; hopefully big E will be here soon,” Holliday said, referring to his younger brother, Ethan, who is on track to be a first-round draft pick in 2025.

Their mission completed, Cowser and Holliday’s attention shifted to the BeReal alert that had just pinged. The app goes off at random times and instructs users to take a selfie and a picture of what they are doing in that moment. There was probably no cooler moment than this for it to buzz, they said.

While they adjusted to get the angle right, I borrowed their marker and walked over to the little window that looks out over the field. I found a sliver and wrote my name and date as neatly as I could. I too needed a moment to admire my work, sending a picture to my family, who I knew would appreciate the moment as much as I did.

The perfect BeReal snapped, it was time to exit to get ready for the game. Holliday and Cowser are rookies — Holliday made his debut on Wednesday night, and Cowser has played in just 37 major league games — but one day, maybe soon, another batch of rookies and reporters may be in awe when they find their names.

This could be the start of historic careers for Holliday and Cowser, ones that I feel privileged to document. In a few hours, they would play the series finale against the Red Sox, and Cowser hit his first career home run to the top of the 231-foot-long wall we were standing within.

At that moment, though, it didn’t matter who was taking the field that night. We were all just baseball fans, taking a moment to soak in the history.

Danielle Allentuck

danielle.allentuck@thebaltimorebanner.com

Danielle Allentuck covers the Orioles for The Baltimore Banner. She previously reported on the Rockies for the Denver Gazette and general sports assignments for The New York Times as part of its fellowship program. A Maryland native, Danielle grew up in Montgomery County and graduated from Ithaca College.

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