Steve Moore, a sophomore in the College of Communication, is the sports editor of The Daily Free Press.

It’s like going from Warren to the Village.

When you spend your childhood at Veteran’s Stadium, you really get to love the place. In a sick, sort of Pabst Blue Ribbon kind of way.

But when I went to Fenway Park for the first time last September, I spent nine innings staring off at a 37-foot green wall, smelling fresh-cut grass and admiring the 91-year old bricks that line Yawkey way.

Sure beats temporary fences, Astroturf and a concrete façade that looks eerily like a maximum security prison.

So when I walked through Kenmore Square last Friday afternoon, I couldn’t help but follow the mass of Red Sox fans down Brookline Avenue and onto Landsdowne Street. Not to sound too cliché, but there’s just something about Opening Day that is a little different. Just ask the scalpers I ran into as far back as Mass. Ave. — they were getting 100 bucks for the bleachers.

I had never been to an Opening Day back in the City of Brotherly Love.

But unfortunately scalpers don’t take convenience points, and that’s really all I had to offer. Well, that and my first-born. But from the sound of it, the scalper I ran into in front of Myles wanted something a little more concrete.

So I walked away from Fenway feeling unfulfilled. But as I smelled the sausage and heard the PA announcer, I smiled again. Neither a union strike nor a river of steroids that would make Jose Canseco cringe can keep me away from baseball. It just seems to have that kind of effect on me.

So when I found out that Friday’s game, along with game one of Saturday’s doubleheader, had fallen victim to the ever-changing Boston weather, I thought I’d look for a few tickets to Saturday night’s game. I had nothing better to do (read: I have no social life), and I figured it couldn’t hurt. So when some friends and I found a few grandstand seats, we snapped them up.

Pedro, opening night, Fenway Park.

Let’s just say I would think twice before paying $30 to sit under a dripping roof at Veterans Stadium.

So as the weather cleared just in time for the first pitch, Yawkey Way was crawling with the Boston faithful, peanut vendors and $7 beers (another issue, another time). And after we got used to the constant Chinese Water Torture from the roof boxes above our seats, dropped our jaws at the prospect of sitting on top of the Green Monster and heard our first, “This is the year,” everything seemed great.

Until Pedro decided to throw a pitch, that is.

When Baltimore’s Jerry Hairston ripped Fenway’s first fastball into left field, Red Sox Nation shrugged its collective shoulders. There would be 27 straight strikeouts to follow. This was Pedro Martinez, after all.

But as the hits kept coming, Fenway grew restless, and the beer started to flow with reckless abandon. When the nightmare was over, the Red Sox ace had allowed a career-high 10 runs, and was actually booed off the field. What kind of fans would possibly boo their best player just because of one bad outing?

For one moment, I felt like I was home again. I could almost smell the constant odor of urine as Phillies fans relieved themselves in the bathroom sinks.

So as I left friendly Fenway after a 13-6 Sox loss, only the foot-long hot dog and $6.75 bag of peanuts were left as good memories of the night.

Oh yeah — that, and the most amazing city block on the face of the Earth.

While the Red Sox may have died quicker than a Yankee fan in the bleacher seats, my love for Fenway Park did not. No matter how creaky the seats, no matter how small the bathrooms, and no matter how expensive the beer, this place has character. More character in one foul pole than in all of Veterans Stadium.

But no matter how broken in my new fitted hat with the classic “B” on the front may get, the Red Sox are not my team. And unfortunately, Fenway is not my park.

I grew up in the concrete jungle that is Veterans Stadium. Even in the 700 level, so high up that they should give you an oxygen tank when you buy your ticket, the pea-green artificial turf looks oh-so-enticing. And while I complain about it every time I go there, it will never be the same as Fenway or any other park in the Majors (Boston fans, be thankful for that).

The Vet will be coming down at the end of the year, thanks to a few thousand pounds of explosives, and a new “retro” park will be take its place. While the new place will be a welcome change, it also won’t have the things that made Veteran’s Stadium (in)famous.

Who knows? They may even put up a net to prevent me from throwing a battery at Scott Rolen the first time he comes to visit.

And where’s the fun in that?