Loyalty and an affair

As I fell in love with Rose Mary, I warned her that I would be loyal and have just one affair. I told her not to despair but to feel secure in it. My loyalty and faithfulness to her would be proven through my affair.

My love affair began when I was 1o and in the fourth grade at Loring School. Mr. Myers was my teacher, a cantankerous Maniac from Portland. One day in the middle of class a knock came upon the door. It was my mother! She was peeking in the class from just behind the door in the hallway. So I ran to her, embarassed, to see why she had come. She didn't say anything but just pulled a picture of Jim Rice that she had autographed for me at Star Market. It said, "To Bobby. From Jim Rice." It has been 26 years and the memory and warmth of that moment is still fresh, although the picture and signature have faded somewhat. This is how my love affair with the Red Sox began.

My passion for this storied franchise never waned, even after the debacle of Butch Hobson or the infamous hit by Mookie Wilson through Bill Buckner (actually Bob Stanley put the Sox in the position to let the game rest on such an error). There is much history, Fenway Park (Boston's Basilica) and there were many captivating figures in each decade, too many to list here except for one. Ted Williams, the Splendid Splinter, was the the greatest hitter ever - the first and last to bat over .400. His story left an indelible impression on me. Not once but twice did he interrupt his baseball career to go serve in war as a Marine Corps Aviator (World War II and the Korean War). The best dedication written about him was by John Updike, "Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu."

Anyway, I live in Miami today and read the Boston Globe online to catch up on everything Sox. In my sales presentations, I sometimes throw in great pictures of Sox figures or unforgettable moments for effect. My little girl Sofia has been following in my footsteps and proudly wears her Red Sox hat to school. At ten years old, she can tell you the starting pitchers, where Big Papi bats in the order, and why she can't wait to go to Fenway. When Sofia sees someone with a Yankees hat she feels the same nausea I do. This is passion unbridled and unequaled; it is the passing of this depth of feeling from one generation to another and unwavering loyalty that separates Sox fans from all others. It is also the way a true fan speaks of the team: it is not "the" Red Sox. It is "my" Sox, as we are all part owners, players and commentators.

It is easy to root for a winner. To understand how one can root for a team befallen by bad luck (or the curse of the Bambino) for 86 years is to reach into the deep chasm of human psyche. Many fans came and went without seeing the celebration of 2004. Yet they never wavered in their support for their local 9.

The rings of 2004 were dedicated to all who played and never won the grand prize; to those who were accustomed to Springtime greatness, summer slumps and the last gasps of fall; to those who never had the chance to see their Red Sox take the field in Spring as defending World Series champions. But most of all they represent loyalty, hope and unwavering support - that which we should all hold as an example and emulate. Rose Mary understands and is fine with my affair, yet she still doesn't quite get my Sox.