By Sergeant Kraig Emery
Like many growing up in New England, I fell in love with the Boston Red Sox at an early age. I remember being about 4 or 5, pretending I couldn’t sleep so my father would let me stay on the living room couch. Of course, I conveniently hatched this plan whenever he was watching the Red Sox on TV. Although the rule was that I “keep my head under the covers,” I, with incredible stealth, always found a way to peek out.
That ritual led to a lifelong bond between father and son, an obsession with baseball, and a dream of one day playing for the Red Sox on the hallowed grounds of Fenway Park. This, alas, never came to fruition.
From corrections to the color guard
Fast forward several decades. As a veteran member of the Merrimack County Department of Corrections Honor Guard, with nearly 19 years in the profession, I’ve had the distinct honor of organizing team events for most of my career. These include local parades, ceremonies, civic events, law enforcement memorials and funerals.
There’s also been some fun — marching in Christmas parades and taking part in pregame ceremonies for the New Hampshire Fisher Cats, the AA minor league affiliate of Major League Baseball’s Toronto Blue Jays. It took years of emails and phone calls, but in 2013, our team was invited to Fenway Park to present the colors before a Red Sox game. We had the honor twice more before the COVID-19 pandemic.
Having been several years since our last appearance, I made it my mission to get our team back out there this year. It wasn’t an easy task — every honor guard in New England is eager to be selected for one of the 81 home games. The Sox make it even more challenging by keeping the contact information for the event coordinator well hidden.
It took persistence, but in the end, it all played out. My contact at the Red Sox front office was communicative and incredibly hospitable.
The call from Fenway
We got the call a few weeks before, requesting that our team present the colors before the June 11 Tampa Bay Rays vs. Boston Red Sox game. After getting the green light from our command staff, the gears were in motion to get the team lineup activated, coordinate transportation, and make sure we were squared away with equipment and uniforms.
Our eight-member team is fortunate to be diverse, representing several corrections disciplines — including supervisors and officers from all shifts, a booking officer, and a case manager. Activated for this event were Sergeant Christopher Tucker (American flag), Sergeant Michael Kistner (New Hampshire state flag), Case Manager Elizabeth Reynolds, and me, Sergeant Kraig Emery (rifles).
Arriving at Fenway Park
After gearing up, we took the roughly 90-minute drive down I-93 to Boston. With several years of tenure on the team, the conversation was filled with memories of past events and the excitement of what was to come.
As we approached Fenway, we searched for parking — which turned into a lot where attendants tried to squeeze vehicles into every inch of space, essentially like stuffing 10 pounds of potatoes into a 5-pound bag. After some haggling, we convinced the attendant to let us park, leaving about 18 inches of space to unload our gear. Thanks, pal. It had to get better from there.
We made our way to the ballpark a few blocks away, checked in, and were welcomed by ballpark staff. Our Fenway ambassadors, Tom and Rebecca, brought us onto the third-base concourse, where we passed the fan-favorite entertainer on stilts, “Big League Brian.” Music filled the air, and you could feel the electricity in the crowd.
I caught a slight glimpse of the field and heard the hawkers in the distance selling game programs, vendors shouting “Hot dogs! Peanuts!” The smell of stale beer mixed with grilled sausage as I felt the crunch of discarded peanut shells under my boots. This was my sanctuary. This was where everything felt right.
We were brought through a high-security entrance below the stands, past pallets of field dirt, turf and tarp rolls. Through the staff breakroom and into the locker rooms — painted red, white and blue with Red Sox logos everywhere — we stowed our gear and were invited to roam the concourse with a promise to return in 20 minutes.
Showtime on baseball’s biggest stage
Anxious with excitement, we met our ambassadors within 10 minutes and returned to the locker room to get in uniform and prepare. Once ready, we worked through basic drill and ceremony training beneath the stands. This was the big stage, but as we always say, “Whether attendance is 30 or 300, we always put on our best performance.”
This time, the crowd would exceed 30,000. Soon we’d be doing it for real, but in that moment, a calm came over me I can’t explain. I reflected on my Honor Guard experiences — and the reality that, at this stage in my career, this might be my last chance to march onto the field I once dreamed of playing on.
We were brought to the threshold of a garage door leading to the left-field warning track, in front of the Green Monster — or “Monstah,” if you’re local. Previously, we had marched out to a spot behind second base, so this was a new experience. To stand on the same ground as Hall of Famers Ted Williams, Carl Yastrzemski and Jim Rice — was this actually happening?
We got into formation, shaking off any last-minute nerves before coming to attention.
The public address announcer’s voice boomed across the sound system: “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to Fenway Park, America’s oldest and most beloved ballpark. Now presenting our nation’s colors, we’d like to welcome the Merrimack County Department of Corrections Honor Guard from Boscawen, New Hampshire.”
With the first note of the national anthem, we marched onto the field in perfect unison — a rhythm you don’t see, but feel. Thousands of fans sang together, and when the final note rang out, the eruption of cheers literally made the ground shake.
No, they weren’t cheering for us. They were cheering for the moment — for perfect weather, for the hometown team, and for America. As we marched off the field, I asked aloud, more to myself than anyone else, “Does it get any better?”
Reflection and gratitude
Each of us carried our own emotions about the experience. We went as a team of four, representing our agency and profession. No friends or family accompanied us to share the moment.
As for me, I thought of all we represent and the privilege of the opportunity — how few get to experience it. I thought of my father, who passed years ago, and those games of catch, talking baseball. I thought of my wife and kids at home, the neighborhood sandlots, and the dream of a small boy who once peeked out from under a blanket.
About the author
Kraig Emery is the training sergeant at the Merrimack County Department of Corrections in Boscawen, New Hampshire. With 19 years in the profession, he has served as a field training officer and floor supervisor, and as a classroom instructor in-house and at the New Hampshire Association of Counties Corrections Academy. He is a veteran member of the agency’s Honor Guard team and is invited annually as a guest speaker at the New Hampshire Law Enforcement Memorial Ceremony.