What It Means To Be a Red Sox Fan

I've been a Red Sox fan my whole life. I grew up listening to my dad grumble about Bill "Fucking" Buckner. For a long time, I actually thought that was his name. We lived in England during the '86 Series. My dad religiously watched every game. I grew up knowing the meaning of being a Sox fan. It meant having dreams crushed. It meant losing hope. It meant worshipping a team that could hand a win away.

My son, Shaggy, knew about Aaron "Fucking" Boone. He, like me, also thought that was his name. I remember watching his walkoff homerun in like the 11th inning against Tim Wakefield. I remember shutting off the TV in disgust and just going to bed. That epitomized what it felt like to be a Sox fan. The loss of hope. Knowing you were this close just to see it disappear. Hope...its a word most Sox fans know well. Loss of Hope...well thats a phrase Sox fans know better.

Something miraculous occurred in 2004. I think its because I didn't have the Weeping Jesus in a drawer. Maybe its because I was abstaining from sex at that point. Maybe its because I was only casually watching the games because they were UGLY and I was feeling that familiar loss of hope. Whatever it was, the miracle occurred. The Sox were down 0-3 games in the ALDS against, who else, the Yankees. It looked assured that yes, it would be the Yankees again in the World Series.

Game 4: I stayed up....late...somehow, someway, the game was tied. After a few extra innings, I finally had to go to bed. I think it was midnight. I woke up like a kid on Christmas morning and turned on the TV. Could it be? Was I seeing this right? The Sox pulled it out?

Game 5: See game 4 above except I stayed up later and the game went even long.

Hope....I had Hope. Could it be? Was it possible? A tiny glimmer of something so small I barely recognized it began to grow in my heart.

Somehow, the Sox managed to do the impossible. They pulled out the biggest upset in MLB history! Against the Yankees. Whom I hate. With a Passion.

Now, I find myself in a similar position this year. Trying to maintain that smallest glimmer of hope in my heart while the Sox are down 2 games to 1 agains the Indians. The current score...7-3. Hope...I feel it growing. If I had the Weeping Jesus, I'd pull him out of the drawer and light it. Hope....