If Boston’s Fenway Park has a current maven, it’s sure to be Henry Taves.

A grad of both Harvard and Columbia Universities, Henry has followed the Red Sox since his Cambridge childhood in 1963. But he harbors a deeper love of major league baseball’s senior ball yard, which opened just as the Titanic was settling to the Atlantic’s bottom in 1912. I met Henry in the grandstands behind home plate during a recent Saturday afternoon tilt between the Sox and Toronto’s Blue Jays. I wasn’t supposed to be there.

Robin and I had joined a Jay Buckley group tour a few days earlier. Our seats this afternoon were in Fenway’s roof deck, drenched in glaring sunlight. Robin does sun well; El Sol and I have a bad history. By the 4th inning, even slathered in SPF-50, I went hunting for shadier climes, eventually landing in the cavernous grandstand. In a short while a graying gentleman, sporting Fenway ID, approached and began chatting about the park. “How would you like to see more of the park? I can take you up to the Green Monster.” Long time ball fans know this is the equivalent of: “Hey, come along and visit the Promised Land!”

Henry led me past several checkpoints, introducing me to attendants, as we eased into much more expensive seating zones. We passed the Legends Suite where, for around $20,000, groups of 20 can view a game with a former Sox player. I resisted an urge to shake hands with Luis Tiant.

Within moments I was above left field’s 37-foot Green Monster, an arm’s length from the Fisk Foul Pole, immortalized to long ago fans when Boston’s Carlton Fisk ended Game 6 of the 1975 World Series against Cincinnati by ricocheting a 12th inning homer off that pole. Henry and I traded stories of that game. I was on late night military duty, 5000 miles away, listening by radio. A senior at Harvard, he was present in the stands, and described the crowd’s electric reaction.

Henry possesses more than a casual interest in his hometown’s venerable ball yard. Trained in historic preservation, his professional career led him to several states, including ours, where he resided in Tarboro with his family. He performed rural architectural surveys in Edgecombe and Halifax counties, and is one of three authors of ‘The Historic Architecture of Halifax County, North Carolina’.

A New Hampshire resident now, Henry ventures to Fenway several times a season. Earlier this year, the Red Sox approached him with an offer to become an unofficial ambassador for the park. During games he enjoys approaching unsuspecting folks, like me, with treats to sights they would, otherwise, never see. His ‘Fenway Purist’ blog can be accessed online.

Robin eventually joined us, and Henry left us at Fenway’s Royal Rooters’ Club, a limited-access facility near the Ipswich entry where members enjoy better food, drinks, A/C, and Sox memorabilia dating back over a century.

We did not share Robin’s personal connection to Boston’s 86-year World Series ‘curse’. In 1946, it was St. Louis’s Enos Slaughter who raced from first base to score Game 7’s eventual winning run, denying Boston a title. Slaughter shared kinship with Robin’s maternal family in Person County.

We were just grateful for the Fenway hospitality.