Re: Why do you love the Red Sox?
posted at 1/1/2013 4:00 PM EST
In response to carnie's comment:
For me, my love affair with the Red Sox started in the summer of 1967 in Augusta Maine. Like most 9 year old boys in my neighborhood I loved to play baseball, although I had never paid much attention to the proffessional sport. Both my father and grandfather were huge Red Sox fans though, so the Sox game was always either on the TV or the radio at our house. Something about that 1967 team really captured my imagination. It could have been Yaz, Tony C., George Scott or Jim Lonborg, but by the end of the year I was following the Red Sox as religiously as my male progenitors.
I've been a Red Sox fan through thick and thin ever since. Granted this year's team is off to a very bad start, but I am still, and will remain a Red Sox fan. I will root for them even when, maybe especially when, they are down.
I was 6 and had lived in America for a little more than a year. My best friend was a Sox fan, as most of us in SE NH seemed to be. Exceptions were those who lived at Pease AFB and Kittery that were Air Force and Navy folks from all over. I guess it was just a natural development...becoming a Sox fan. It became more than that ... an ethereal connection that struck at my very heart. I have lived in three countries and six states, and during those days prior to 1994, when I first got on the internet, I often only got to read line scores in the local papers that had other allegiances, some that had no professional sports connections.
Baseball became my favorite sport almost immediately hjere in the States. In the old country, we played field hockey and cricket. But here, in 1961, baseball replaced both. We played it from sunrise to sunset. We eventually played Strat-o-matic all through the wintah. I delivered the Boston Globe for 7 years, from 8 to 15. It was my Red Sox Bible. My best friend delivered the daily from Dover. We were stats nuts. Baseball was so full of fun stuff like that. My best friend had a better mind for all those things than I did, but he was brighter than I was anyway - and a kid who grew up with baseball.
Dad was born near Albany, NY. He grew up in the communities between Troy, NY and North Adams, MA. He was a Yanqui fan as a kid. But after 15 years in India and E. Pakistan as a missionary, his first charge state-side was in Rochester, NH. A strong fellowship with churches in Roxbury, Malden, Pawtucket and Providence all helped make Boston and the Sox even more "natural." Dad became a Red Sox fan, early in the '60s. (His second favorite team was still the Yanquis, miracle of miracles.) He would take me and my friends - as well as brothers - but they weren't interested in baseball like Dad and I were - to games at Fenway. Dad would haggle with neighbors around Fenway for a parking space and we would head into the game. $1 per person in the bleachers. Man, those were great days! Riding home in the old '64 Dodge wagon with the wind blowing through the windows .... tired and mostly happy.
I remember the arguments of how the young kid Yaz would never replace Teddy Ballgame. Heh. It made me love Yaz all the more. I never saw Teddy play. I respected his legacy but I loved #8. He and the Red Sox we one and the same, in my mind.
'67 was a bolt out of the blue. What a celebration!