If you want to really put on the dog, though, you could shell out six bucks a ticket for the rooftop boxes at Fenway and watch the ballgame in isolated splendor. But you probably don't have any out of town clients to impress and our informal survey shows that none of you hold high positions in the Lincoln, Mass. chapter of the National Association of Manufacturers. In that case, the bleachers are your best bet. A slightly alcoholic, bedraggled-looking college kid from some hometown out of the area who knows very little about major league baseball fits in perfectly here.

Some mechanical tips on going: if you've got a car, take Memorial Drive to one of the bridges leading to the Business School, cross over and get on Storrow Drive, getting off at Kenmore Square and following the crowd from there. That's all easy--your trial by fire doesn't start until you try to find a legal and free parking place, which is next to impossible for a rookie spectator arriving less than 45 minutes before game time. You'll probably end up paying $2 or $3 for a safe private or public garage close by.

With the MBTA, your hell begins considerably earlier. After getting off at Park, you have to take the green line to Kenmore, packed thirty deep into an antiquated trolley car with the temperature about average for the mid-Sahara in August. Your reward: the expense is fifty cents round trip from Harvard Square.

Game time is 7:30 for night games and 2:15 for afternoon starts--get there early for parking and seating reasons, because despite the Red Sox's unbelievable fold so far this year the fans still come out, if only to boo. Ordinarily the American League champion Sox attract the most fanatical and fickle supporters, the bleachers especially, since the most lonely and desperate rooters, as well as true believing young, hang out there. Check out the deformed solitary scribblers with their scorebooks in the right field stands.