Fair Weather

I grew up in the Boston area, and I remember my first Red Sox game. I took the T with my then-best-friend Carolynne Chanley all the way to Fenway. We were sixteen, I think. Carolynne talked about Billy Buckner. The Sox were always on TV in our house, because that's what Bostonians did: they watched the Sox. Good games, bad games, whenever. But baseball was never my thing. I'm sure I'm committing some sort of heresy by admitting that Marc had to call me on Wednesday night to tell me to watch the game. Marc, a native of Colorado, had to tell me, an admitted Bostonian, to watch the game that would make history.

I also have to admit that I sighed as I turned the channel to the game. I had a few wow moments when the guy at shortstop made some great outs, but I don't know his name. I don't know any of their names. I knew more Mariner's names when I lived in Seattle.

But here I am, excited for the Sox for yet another try at the Series. I'm as Fair-Weathered a fan as I've ever seen--proud to be from Boston when they're winning, and ignoring the sport entirely when they're not. At this point, most of my friends and family will disown me, but I've made my confession. Let's watch some ball.