Shippin’ Off To McGreevy’s

This past weekend a close friend of mine invited myself and a few of our mutual friends to come out to his place in Boston to see the sites. I took the opportunity since that would be the first time I visited the city outside the TD Bank North Stadium for my bi-monthly Bruins game.

We arrived at his place Friday and took the T into the city that night for what he called a ‘pub-crawl’. For those not in-the-know, a pub crawl consists of going from bar to bar to enjoy a couple beers, experience the environment, move to the next bar, rinse and repeat. Every bar that we went to seemed pretty mundane, no real difference from the last one, until we reached 911 Boylston Street.
The scruffy-bearded bouncer at the door had informed us that “we just missed out… a few Bruins old-timers had just left.” This automatically sparked my interest in the place even before I set foot into McGreevy’s 3^rd Base Saloon.

Once inside, the first noticeable thing was that this bar was definitely unique and could only be found in Boston. The dim lights showed off a plethora of Boston sports memorabilia that littered the walls. One can spend an entire day looking at just the walls alone; anything from signed pucks to player’s mitts behind glass frames, to pictures of team line-ups from the golden days. The music was also interesting; it definitely set the mood of the bar. It wasn’t your normal ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ or ‘Summer Of 69’ that people are used to hearing at a bar. Instead, punk bands such as Bad Brains, Pennywise and Rancid were heard coming from the dome shaped speakers surrounding the bar.
I moved from exhibit to exhibit, revisiting my memories from when I went to Fenway with a couple of friends in the third grade. One picture in particular caught my eye; it was of the corridor right before entering the stadium. I remember the feeling of walking through the dimly lit tunnel to be awe struck by the bright lights of the immense ball field. I stood in that bar feeling like I was 8 years old surrounded by adults, until I was passed a Bud Light.

My friend noticed that there was a signed bag pipe from the punk group Dropkick Murphys. I brushed it off at first because the band originated from Boston so it could be possible that they donated their instruments to add to the appeal and ‘at-home’ feel to the bar. Andrew, the Boston native that had invited us up, informed us that the bar was in fact owned by the band and could be seen drinking there from time to time.

We took a seat at one of the tables in the back. My wondering eye had to be put to a rest for the time being. Usually at a specialized bar such as this, you might as well through away your wallet. This wasn’t the case at all. When the 3^rd alternate Bruins jersey clad waitress told us that drinks were only $3.50, the appeal of the bar was heightened dramatically. Not only could we have fun in a sports bar but we didn’t have to file for bankruptcy before leaving.

Enjoying my third green-bottled Bud Light of the night, a familiar song filled the bar. “Tessie, "Nuf Ced" McGreevey shouted, we're not here to mess around. Boston, you know we love you madly, hear the crowd roar to your sound. Don't blame us if we ever doubt you, you know we couldn't live without you. Tessie, you are the only, only, only.” The Dropkick Murphys sure know how to sum up a perfect night.