Red Sox Fan: An Origin Story

In 2003 a Red Sox fan was born.  The dorm I lived that first year of college was so close to Fenway you could hear the roar of the crowd when outs were made or homers flew into Landsdowne Street.  The street outside my windows would fill with college students screaming "Let's go Red Sox," "Yankees Suck!" and other, more foul chants. (Not actually the mark of a great fan, but I was 18 and my family aren't into sports so it was all very new and exciting.)

When Aaron Boone hit that homer in game 7 of the ALCS I realized I'd never understood what it meant to be a fan before that moment.  ("Never" includes the approximately 6 weeks I'd been actually watching baseball.) "How did Boston fans live like this year after year?!  Where did they get the strength to endure such heartbreak?!" My young, sad mind wondered. (Sheltered, much? Yes. Yes I was.)

In 2004 during game 6 of the ALCS I ran from my dorm to Fenway, bought a Sox shirt and ran back to finish the game.  When won the World Series I thought I was going to explode from joy.  But I'd grown up, I was all of 19, and knew that the streets would be absurdly full and probably a little violent (I believe that's the year BPD used rubber bullets on crowds, no?)  So I stayed home instead of joining the growing horde outside, went to bed, and went to Fenway earrrrrly the next morning to greet our boys when they came home.  Youkilis, who until that series had not been one of the shining stars of the team, was drunk off his butt.  He deboarded and ran over to the gates, slapping hands with all of us there to congratulate the team!  It was an incredibly memorable moment!

The next time we won the series I lived in Scotland.  I bought an MLBtv subscription and watched the ALCS games on my laptop with a Yankees fan and several Britons.  During the World Series the games were played on British television and I was treated to ... uniquely British commentating. 

I am, and always will be, a Red Sox fan.  It's taken me a while, but I will confess this:  I don't actually find watching baseball all that interesting.  At least not during the regular season.  But leading up to the play-offs?  The ALCS? The World Series (when we're in it)?  That I'm glued to.  I realized something else, too.  Though it sounds nuts, there's something about the community spirit baseball fosters that I find very appealing.  I think that's what made me fall in love so quickly with the sport in Boston.  It wasn't, perhaps, strictly about baseball; it was about Boston, about my college, about watching the game while pacing the floor with friends.  I felt like I knew the 2003 Red Sox.  Their wins and losses were personal to me.  I think, though, when you don't watch during the regular season you lose some of that.  (New goal: Next year watch/listen to as many Sox games as is feasible.)  This sentiment was reiterated last night when I was at Camden Yards for the heartbreaking game against the Os.

I'll tackle that subject more in my post about last night.