I wasn’t sure about whether I really wanted to attend Monday evening’s "In Celebration of the Life of Ted Williams" event at Fenway Park, but I ultimately came to the conclusion that if it turned out to be a great evening, I would regret having missed it. So I shelled out my 27 bucks for an upper box behind home plate, and I’m glad I did. On a beautiful summer evening, with the center-field flag at half-mast blowing eerily (and appropriately) toward left field, I took in the festivities along with 20,000 other folks, even though I had no attachment to any of the Splendid Splinter’s splendid career in Boston.

(I was blessed about seven years ago when, on my way to the Phoenix offices — which are a block down Brookline Avenue from Fenway — I stumbled upon the filming of a Nissen bread commercial right in front of the Sox’ ticket office on Yawkey Way. At that time, Williams was a spokesperson for the New England bakery, and when I saw that he, along with Yankees legend Yogi Berra, was in the midst of filming the ad, I hustled down to my office, grabbed a pristine American League baseball from my cube, and got back to the outdoor set just in time for a break in the filming. I managed to time it perfectly, getting to Teddy Ballgame before any of the other awe-struck onlookers had the chance, and I politely asked him to sign the ball. He did, as did Berra a few moments later, and that baseball has been the crown jewel of my memorabilia collection ever since. And no, you can’t have it.)

The tribute this past Monday night was relaxed, witty, uplifting, and moving, a stirring testament to the man’s life and career on and off the field. The 90-minute ceremony came on the heels of the opening of Fenway Park earlier in the day to those masses who wanted to pay tribute to Williams in their own ways. In accordance with this brilliant marketing idea, Sox management allowed fans to walk all around the perimeter of the field — which would have been enough of a thrill in and of itself to most of the attendees — and see and hear Ted on the giant scoreboard, admire rare photos of his career with the Sox, in the Marines, and with stricken children aided by his involvement with the Jimmy Fund, and also to see his Hall of Fame plaque, brought in from Cooperstown. The previous Red Sox regime had previously opened the park to regular folks a couple of times during organized "FanFests," but it always seemed to be a murky, drizzly day; Monday was a glorious day for taking in the park from field level, with the opportunity to sit in the visitors’ dugout, touch the Green Monster, and pose for photos at the foul poles and elsewhere. Sox jack-of-all-trades Brian Daubach strolled around as if he were a fan himself, and John Henry shook hands and posed for photos with all those who cared to engage the new Sox owner. The event’s only negative aspect was the placement of a souvenir cart on the left-field line, even though there were plenty of similar stands open in the concourse of the park.

As far as the evening’s ticket-only event went, much has been written about it, but several aspects remain unaddressed. To wit:

• Why did the event — slated to start at 6 p.m. sharp — not begin until nearly 6:30?

• It would have helped if the Jumbotron had properly identified for the gathered audience all the honored guests who took the field for the tribute, rather than just a few of them. As it was, fans were left to wonder who the heck the unidentified guests were, and what in tarnation they had to do with Ted Williams.

• Owner John Henry lives in Boston now, right? So how is it that he introduced Governor Jane Swift (and why on earth was that dingbat there?) as Governor Smith?

• Sox partner Tom Werner — now sans Katie Couric — needs to work on waiting for the applause to die down before continuing his speeches. Lots got drowned out.

• This event was not the place to boo Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig, or Swift, or Dan Duquette, or anyone for that matter. It’s a memorial service, for God’s sake! (Interesting, though, that they paired Selig with former senator John Glenn for the introductions, so that the commish would be spared a full-blown Bronx cheer, and that Duquette and former owner John Harrington were paired together, although the catcalls for them were not nearly as harsh as one might have expected.)

• Ken Burns, the PBS biographer who produced the Baseball series, among others, went on waaaaaay too long — nearly 15 minutes by himself. Yes, at times his written remarks were moving, but more often than not his monotone delivery brought forth irrelevant or even inappropriate (Bucky Dent? Bill Buckner?), non-Ted-related aspects of Red Sox history.

• Best line of the night: after Burns had mercifully finished, co-MC Sean McDonough turned and asked the other seated guest, former pitcher Earl Wilson, "How ya doin’, Earl?", to which Wilson responded, "Man, I just woke up!" Join the crowd.

• It would have been nice to have more current Red Sox players attend on their day off, but the fact that Nomar, Jason Varitek, Johnny Damon, Lou Merloni, and Tim Wakefield did make it was admirable. Now where were their 20 roster mates?

• Was it too much to ask for the idiots in the stands to turn off their cell phones during the ceremony? You’d think after one phone rang and dirty looks followed, everyone else in the grandstand would have checked to make sure his or her phone was turned off. Nope. It seemed like a different ringer would go off every seven to 10 minutes. All night long. For dealing with these types of people, I hereby advocate that licensed firearms be allowed into the park.

• Jack Fisher (who gave up Williams’s final home run in 1960), who made the long trip up just to stand on the mound in his Orioles uniform during Curt Gowdy’s re-enactment of his famous call of the Splinter’s finale, didn’t even get introduced or ID’d to the Fenway audience; everybody just wondered, who in the heck is that guy pretending to be Jack Fisher?

• Nice of Carl Yastrzemski to show up for the tribute, but where in the sam hill was he for the Field of Dreams–themed finale?

And speaking of Yaz and others, I enjoyed seeing some of the Red Sox players from the past take part in the ceremony, but I guess I felt disappointed that there weren’t more. And I really thought that one of the Bushies would actually make it, but I suppose they’re still fighting those wars on Saddam and terror, respectively. Since the tribute had been announced two weeks prior to the event, I would have thought that more Boston legends — and even non-Boston legends — would have been able to attend. Hell, Ted used to be at every Sox team’s spring training in the ’80s and early ’90s, and I’m sure as a result he helped out most of the Sox hitters of that era. So where were all those Soxsters of yesteryear? Were they not invited? For instance, where was Pudge? Wade Boggs? Rick Burleson? Bill Lee? Bernie Carbo? Bob Stanley? Eck? Geddy? Pumpsie Green? Mike Greenwell? Bruce Hurst? Fred Lynn? Frank Malzone? Bill Monbouquette? Calvin Schiraldi (on second thought ... never mind)? Dave Morehead? I definitely want to know where the heck Dwayne Hosey was that night. And what about Hall of Fame opponents who played against Williams? Bob Feller? Larry Doby? Yogi? In remembrance of their long rivalry, couldn’t the Yankees have sent even one representative, even if it was only the Gerbil?

Well, I doubt I’ll get answers to all those questions, but I do want to take this opportunity to suggest to Sox management that perhaps we don’t need to wait until another Red Sox legend passes to the Great Diamond in the Sky to have another reunion.

It’s time for the Red Sox to re-introduce the annual Old-Timers’ Day to the 2003 Red Sox home schedule.

For whatever reason, the Sox, along with most other teams, did away with this fan-favorite tradition in the early ’80s, and now only the Yankees continue to schedule one. Granted, the Bombers have more certified legends at their beck and call, but with such a deep roster of past Sox heroes now sitting around collecting cobwebs, it’s high time for the alumni of Boston’s baseball past to get another chance to be acknowledged and appreciated by Red Sox nation in a pre-game introduction and tribute. The traditional Old-Timers’ Game is probably an event that has passed its usefulness (and could even jack up our collective health-care premiums in the event of injury or — gulp! — death during the exhibition contest), but the concept of a reunion weekend is pure marketing genius, and an idea that the players themselves would certainly embrace. In addition, fans would no doubt flock to any events that would offer them the opportunity to rub elbows with the old coots, er, legends (autograph sessions, posing for photos with Arquimedez Pozo, hot dog-eating contests with George Scott, etc.).

No question, this is an idea whose time has come, gone, and is now banging on the door begging to be let back in, if only to give Sox fans one more chance to stand and cheer for those guys who have begun to fade from memory, yet remain in their hearts for the heroes and goats that they were. Yeah, with the passing of Ted Williams, there’s one less hero in the world and still too many goats, but let’s take the opportunity to appreciate the Red Sox players of the past before they too shuffle off their mortal coil and become just another geezer in the freezer.

Sporting Eye runs Mondays and Fridays at BostonPhoenix.com. Christopher Young can be reached at cyoung[a]phx.com.