Take Me Out to the Sox Game!

I grew up in New England- which means I grew up a Red Sox fan. For those of you from outside of the Northeast it would be difficult for words to ever express exactly what that statement meant in my youth. Although I fortunately only had to live through seventeen years of The Curse, it was still no way to spend one's childhood. Being a Red Sox fan now is a walk in the park (with the exception of the beginning of this current season) but back then, the times were tough and the defeats were legendary.

I grew up surrounded by cars with bumper stickers that read 1918 World Champions and stories of Bill Buckner's ball between the legs. My town bragged constantly about the one time Babe Ruth came to visit, and I knew multiple three-year olds who could pronounce Yastrzemski with ease. The debate over whether to freeze Teddy Ballgame was just as hotly debated as whether Pesky hesitated in 1946. In New England, baseball is not just a game.

That is why it was so difficult to grow up loving the Sox; eighty-six years is a long, long time. People start to get hungry; they start to get desperate. Which is why 2004 is New England's very own version of the Kennedy assassination or the moon landing- everyone remembers exactly where they were when they first heard about the Red Sox winning The World Series. I was watching at home with my mom. We both started screaming, crying, jumping up and down. It was all too much. After the drama of the ALCS against the Yankees, it was almost more than we could have ever hoped for. The Sox had finally managed to beat the Cardinals in a World Series.

Three years later, I was at school at Boston University and living right in Kenmore Square- less than two blocks from Fenway. I was so close, I could hear the screams of the fans in the park- even with my windows closed. This was very annoying since I got NESN over satellite with a five second delay, which meant that I could hear the cheering outside before I could see what it was they were cheering about on TV. However, this proximity also meant that I was in the thick of it when the Sox won the ALCS at Fenway that year and then again when they swept the Rockies on the road.

The scene was unbelievable. It was a sea of red and blue. There were brooms on fire everywhere and, somehow, even more police. I was chased down Beacon Street by riot police that were both on foot and horseback. I was repeatedly turned away from entering my own block because the roads were closed-off and I had no proof of address. I finally had to sneak into my own house to avoid the rowdy frat boy fights.

After two years of living outside the park, I finally got my first chance to go inside. Upon first sight of the grass and the seats and the people- I burst into tears. I started crying because of how surreal the whole experience felt to me. I had seen this place on television so many hundreds of times, looked at the outside of it almost everyday on my way to class, and there I was finally inside.

Even now that I've moved beyond the glow of the Citgo Sign, the Sox still affect my daily life in Boston. One has to be careful about when to use the Green Line and when to stay out of Kenmore. Though there are infinite cheap t-shirts to choose from, the foot traffic makes it nearly impossible to bike through there on my way to work. It's loud, crowded, and completely covered in garbage, but I would give anything to live near Fenway again- deep in the heart of Red Sox territory.

Fandom has changed a lot since I was younger; it's now fashionable to be a Sox fan, you have to prove to many that you are not just there for the fair weather. New Englanders love their Sox, and I am proud to say that I am a lifelong fan. And also hopefully the future Mrs. Jacoby Ellsbury.