For now, the quiet is almost quaint.
From the Fenway Park press box, it's currently possible to hear the grunt of the pitcher hurling a pitch toward the plate, the reaction of teammates to a hard-hit ball and the good-natured trash-talking that takes place around the batting cage.
We can hear all of these things, of course, because Fenway is otherwise empty -- save for a few members of the front office watching from the seats or off to the side.
And for Summer Camp, the silence is fine. There are few distractions as players get their work in, shake off the rust from a three-month lockdown and prepare for the upcoming 60-game season.
But when that 60-game schedule begins later this month, the atmosphere won't be any different. There will be -- for now anyway -- no fans in the stands. This means no rhythmic clapping as a rally unfolds and no eruption of euphoria to follow a late-inning homer. When a great play is made on the field, you might hear words of appreciation from teammates, but you won't have a raucous ovation from a sold-out crowd.
There will be no cat-calls for the visiting Yankees, no audible razzing of opponents.
It will be quieter than a high school game on a rainy afternoon in May, quieter than a late-summer Gulf Coast League game on a sweltering August day.
Even the notion of a home-field advantage might not exist. Yes, players are more familiar with -- and comfortable in -- their own ballpark. But no longer can they count on fans providing emotional support or willing a team to a comeback win.
It will be strange indeed -- for fans watching on TV from the comfort of their home, accustomed to the sound of the roaring crowd making it seem like they're almost at the ballpark. But it will be stranger still for the players, who likely won't have experienced games like this before. Not in college, not in the minors, not in winter ball.
Some players, including those who successfully tune out surrounding noise and manage to motivate themselves, might hardly notice. Nate Eovaldi fits that bill as well as anyone on the Red Sox.
"It's definitely going to be different,'' acknowledged Eovaldi. "I haven't given it too much thought. It's a lot more fun out there performing in front of our fans and have our fans rooting for us. But it's going to be different, yeah.''
Others admit the adjustment will be significant.
"Maybe for the first 30 games, it's fine,'' said Alex Verdugo earlier this year when asked about the prospect of playing in empty ballparks. "But what happens when the players are a little bit sore and it just gets repetitive? The fans bring that energy. The fans kind of add that extra adrenaline that maybe pushes you a little bit more.''
Verdugo acknowledged that the reaction from the fans will be conspicuous by its absence.
"I like when you make a play, or a pitcher strikes somebody out and you make a play, I like to hear the cheering, I like to hear the boos,'' Verdugo said. "It's that instant feedback that makes you a little bit nervous and you feed off of that.''
Over time, players will have to find that missing motivation on their own.
"At this moment,'' said Verdugo, "I think everybody's so excited to be around each other and to get back, the energy -- all that stuff -- is easy. It's a matter of being happy to be here. When we're 20-30 games into the season and we still don't have fans, that might be something to get through. But we're all professionals and we all know what we have to do to get ready to do our job.''
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