Boston’s Josh Beckett pitches in the ninth inning as the scoreboard on the Green Monster at Fenway Park shows the zeros he racked up in blanking Los Angeles on a four-hitter last night in the opener of the best-of-five division series.

The Providence Journal / Bob Breidenbach

BOSTON — The TV cameras were your first clue.

They lined the railing from home plate to halfway down the right-field line in Fenway Park, and another swarm of them were in front of the visiting-team dugout waiting for the Angels to come out.

It was 4:30 yesterday afternoon, more than two hours before the game was to start, and already there was a media circus. Welcome to baseball in October.

The best baseball there is.

The baseball that determines whether teams are remembered forever, or ultimately slink away into the dustbin of Red Sox history.

For here we are in another baseball October. The Red Sox are in the postseason for the first time in two years, chasing 2004, the year they came from being down 0-3 in a best-of-seven series to beat the Yankees, then defeated the St. Louis Cardinals in the World Series for their first title in 86 years, the October that changed this franchise’s history.

That is the hope, certainly, and last night it was on full display. Red, white and blue bunting hung from the grandstand behind home plate. It also decorated the railing behind home plate from dugout to dugout.

So you didn’t need a schedule to tell you this wasn’t just another game against Kansas City in July, that this is baseball in October, the time when the leaves on the ride to Boston are starting to turn, and things get serious. The time when everything is under a microscope.

Shortly before five the first fans started filing into Fenway, like parishioners flocking to Lourdes. They stood along the railway in their red Papelbon and Schilling jerseys, in their blue Ramirez and Ortiz jerseys. They took pictures on their cell phones.

A band was playing in the middle of Yawkey Way, the street already jammed with people, a sea of red and blue jerseys, the air smelling of grilled sausage. Two blue banners that said “Fenway Park” hung over the street. More blue and white banners commemorating the Sox’ championship teams were on the red-brick façade of Fenway Park, this old ballpark that’s been here since 1912, this old ballpark full of history and the ghosts of the past.

It all looked like some giant costume party, anticipation hovering over the street like morning fog. People old enough to remember the “Impossible Dream” summer 40 years ago. Kids for whom Roger Clemens is ancient history. Men. Women. Everybody.

Remember when Red Sox Nation was just a phrase in newspaper columns?

Last night it seemed like a reunion.

“There’s not a better place to be anywhere,” said a guy in a blue Sox jersey named Steve Muller. “Right here. Right now.”

For sure.

Baseball in October.

Fenway Park.

The Red Sox chasing their second World Series title in four years.

Behind Muller, on the corner of Yawkey Way and Van Ness Street, was a large TV platform, all done up in red, white, and blue. Everywhere you looked there were vendors selling everything and anything that had a Red Sox logo. Muller said he comes from Connecticut, “near Foxwoods,” and he was standing with his buddy, who was wearing what looked like a white Sox throwback uniform top that had “Petrocelli” on the back, as if it could be 1967 when Rico Petrocelli was the young shortstop and the Sox went to the World Series against the Cardinals in another baseball October.

That was the other thing about last night, another example that the Red Sox are one endless story, season surrendering to season, Yaz morphing into David Ortiz, Roger Clemens turning into Josh Beckett, a love of the Red Sox passed down through the generations like some prized family heirloom. The sense that, once again, the Red Sox are off on a postseason journey and are going to take us along for the ride.

You could see that last night, too, see that in the love fest that was Fenway Park, the love fest that is the Red Sox in the playoffs, the love fest that has become the Red Sox in New England, the incredible interest in this team.

Last night it was the Sox at their best, the kind of baseball they played the first two months of the season, when they got off to their great start. It’s the blueprint they’re always looking for: a great performance by starter Beckett, who silenced the Angels all evening in pitching a complete game, home runs by Kevin Youkilis and David Ortiz, just enough offense.

By the numbers.

A game out of some Red Sox pre-game script.

And a great start to this postseason.

That was the storyline last night on a beautiful night in Fenway Park, a night in which the Red Sox set out to chase 2004 all over again, the start of another postseason dream.

For this was baseball in October.

The best baseball there is.

breynold@projo.com