Here's to You, Number Six.

Tonight, the Boston Red Sox will add a seventh number to the distant right-field facade inside hallowed Fenway Park. Amidst the legendary red numerals of 1, 4, 8, 9 and 27, graced by a blue 42, shall rest another digit that will persevere for countless generations to come.

No, this red 6 will not be honoring Tony Pena or Gary Gaetti. It won't be for the beloved Rico Petrocelli. Not even for the now-forgiven Bill Buckner. This night is reserved for a man who bleeds a deeper shade of red than the rest of us. It is for a man who is a genuine member of the Red Sox family through and through: Johnny Pesky.

The entire VendorBall staff will be lucky enough to be on-hand Friday night to witness the unveiling of Pesky's number thirty feet from the yellow pole that bears his name. It brings to mind my one-and-only meeting with Johnny, some five years ago. I was working as a vendor at Fenway (wonder how we named the blog?) with fellow columnist, Kyle "Don't Call Me Meredith" Baxter. As Kyle and I were sitting in the right-field grandstand about two hours before gametime (we were required to be there quite early), we noticed a small crowd gathering a few sections over. We wandered by, and noticed that all eyes were on none other than Johnny Pesky. He was sitting there, discussing hitting techniques with anyone who would listen. Timidly, I grabbed a baseball from my backpack (we caught several of them during batting practice), fumbled through t-shirts and papers to find a Sharpie, and asked him for an autograph. Not only did he sign the ball, but he did it with a smile. We talked about the team for a few minutes before I let the others around me experience the same joy. I shook his hand, thanked him, and haven't forgotten the moment since.

I've heard many callers on the radio dispute Pesky's resume and dedication to this team. They say his statistics aren't impressive, he hasn't been with the team long enough, and that he's less genuine than he seems. To those who stray on that side of the fence, let me say it plainly so there is no doubt: there has never been an individual more deserving of this honor than Johnny Pesky. That includes Williams, Yastremzski, Doerr, Fisk, whomever you'd like to bring up. This man has lived with a "B" tattooed on his heart for sixty years. I met the man. He is every bit the gentleman that he appears to be. The Boston Red Sox are his life, and this is the perfect way to commemorate his solemn dedication. Congratulations, Johnny -- you've earned this.

Posted by Dan Zappulla, VendorBall Columnist.