What Makes the Red Sox so "Fenway Faithful"
What Makes the Red Sox so "Fenway Faithful"
What is it about the Red Sox? Why is it that no matter what happened in the previous season; win, lose, or draw, Red Sox fans are still lining up at the ticket booth in the freezing cold and snow on the first day of sales to buy tickets?
We love them, we hate them, but we are never indifferent to them. Every season begins with a clean slate, a sense of hope for a first place division title, a pennant, or the brass ring--the World Series. Many seasons end in failure. We swear we will never watch again; that we will never allow ourselves to be sucked in for more disappointment, pain, and sorrow. Yet, here we are, excited for Spring training, Pitchers and Catchers, and of course, opening day.
We bring our children to the ball yard at Fenway Park, the way we used to introduce our children to church. It is the Cathedral of baseball. Each of us remembers our first trip to Fenway, just as surely as we remember our first day of school, our high school graduation, our wedding and all the important moments in our lives. It is a sight we never take for granted, walking up the ramp and seeing the park, the green monster scoreboard, the Citgo sign, the Pesky pole, and now the Carlton Fisk pole, the Coca-Cola bottles that were added in the eighties to much consternation, but have since become a new icon of the Fenway faithful. It never grows old, that view of Fenway Park every time you see it unfold before your eyes.
Growing up, I remember the whole family sitting around the black and white, console TV, with our coffee table littered with popcorn, beer and soda cans. The grown-ups alternately standing up shouting and cheering, then screaming, "you bums," while throwing popcorn at the screen. Now, I'm the one yelling and cheering or throwing nerf balls at the digital color widescreen. How many times did we go to the beach, lake, or park, and listen as someone invariably had a transistor radio blaring the game for all to hear.
The Red Sox are as much a part of summer as the beach, flip-flops, t-shirts, and shorts. In fact, you would be hard-pressed to go anywhere in New England and not see many people wearing Red Sox t-shirts or caps. With the possible exception of Connecticut, where they think they're supposed to be Yankees fans.
I have an entire room of my house devoted to Red Sox memorabilia: books, photos, signs, pez dispensers, signed baseballs, bobble heads, a chess set, a checker board, a dart board, yearbooks, programs, rugs, blankets, coasters, even a Curt Schilling Jack-in-the-box; not to mention at least ten t-shirts, five game shirts, two jackets, three sweatshirts, three pairs of shorts, a pair of flip-flops, and a pair of socks, all with the Red Sox Logo on them. Even my cell-phone case, my fanny-pack, and my back pack all have a Red Sox logo on them. I'm quite sure I'm not the only one. I love the Red Sox. I hate the Red Sox. I am forever bound to the Red Sox by my ancestry, and my bloodline as a New Englander. I am a part of Red Sox Nation, a group of people addicted to suffering yet ever hopeful.
So why do we do it? At least two generations of fans died never seeing the Red Sox win a world series, my own parents included, yet they instilled in us a love for this team that simply will not die. Every one of us who witnessed the World Series Victory in 2004, took a moment to think about all those who died never seeing what we saw. I, too, witnessed the 1967 loss, the 1975 loss, the 1978 sudden death playoff loss, the 1986 loss. It is precisely because of the suffering that we love the Red Sox so much. We began the last century with five World Series victories in eighteen years. Then nothing but almost' for the rest of the century. The names Johnny Pesky, Carlton Fisk, Carl Yaztremski, Rico Petrocelli,Jim Lonborg, Luis Tiant, "Oil Can" Boyd, Jim Rice, Jerry Remy, Butch Hobson, to name a few, became the stuff of legends. As anyone who has ever been in a casino and won big on the first try knows, there is a conviction that it can happen again. If, after every ten losses, it is followed by two cherries instead of three, one finds themselves more certain than ever that a victory is just a handle pull away.
Now, I'm waiting for the day that my Grandson is old enough to take to the "Cathedral" and introduce him to the new era of Red Sox history. The era that has seen two World Series victories. Lovable losers no more. His legends will be Schilling, Lowe, Ramirez, Varitek, Ortiz, Millar, Roberts, Foulke, Wakefield, Beckett, Matsuzaka, Youkilis and Pedroia.
If it takes them another 86 years to win a world series, he too will anguish and suffer the heartbreak and disappointment that previous generations of Red Sox fans have suffered. But, I guarantee that he will be standing there, every year, lining up for tickets, just as we have.
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