The Joy of the RemDawg

I can't think of any announcers I would rather listen to than Jerry and Don. Whether the game is a blowout or coming down to the final out, they always make it interesting. Wouldn't it have been nice to have had them calling the world series games instead of that dreadful Fox group?

The best part of listening to Jerry and Don is that you never really know when either one of them will start laughing uncontrollably. It could happen at any time. Sometimes even before a game. The link I have here is when Jerry fell off his table while pretending to play a guitar. My son was watching the pregame with me when this came on the air, and now, everytime he sees the Rem Dawg, he says, "that's the guy that fell off the table."

Over the next couple days I will be posting some of my favorite Remy/Don moments from over the years.

Tickets go on sale for us in 5 days, I will be calling in late for work Monday...

How Things Have Changed

Yesterday we went out and got my 4 year son Austin a new Red Sox hat. It was something I didn't want to do. His old one he had worn nearly every day for the last 2 years. It was no longer a dark blue, but a sun-faded purple. There were some mud stains here and there and even a little oil on the brim from when he helped me change the oil in the cars. In other words, his old one was just perfect.

In picking out the new hat from the nearly 200 sox hats on the shelf, I realized that of all the great things that have changed since the Red Sox won the series in 2004, there is one thing that I miss about the old days. It is the camaraderie between the fans. Maybe it is just me but doesn't it seem that Red Sox fans are everywhere now a days? Growing up in Florida, and Nevada and Wyoming and even here in Oklahoma, before we won in 2004, I rarely saw anyone wearing a red sox jersey, shirt or hat. On that rare occasion when I did spot another "B" hat, there was that moment of happiness and recognition and sometimes the other fan would give a nod, or a little wave and I would always nod back. Sometimes they would stop and we would talk about Mo Vaughn's hitting or even about where we were when a certain game happened.

I still have the hat I wore in 1986, but my wife absolutely refuses to go anywhere with me if I wear it so it stays in the closet. I bought that hat in the summer of 1986 to replace an older Sox hat and when I was entering the store to buy the hat, an older gentleman was leaving the store and he was wearing an old B hat as well. I remember he asked me if this was going to be our year and if I thought Clemens was the best pitcher we ever had. We stood outside in the parking lot talking about the Red Sox in the middle of Wyoming for at least 20 minutes. A 17 year old and 70+ year old with only the Red Sox in common. I remember how he shook my hand and how old and frail his hand was. I remember how he smiled at me and pulled on the brim of my hat and told me 'this is the year' before we said goodbye. I thought of him when we lost later that year to the Mets. And I thought of him again in 2004 and again last year. I wonder if he made it long enough to see our team win it.

However, after 10-27-04, all that is gone. Now, when you go to the mall you can count at least 10-20 people wearing red sox hats. Not one of them gives a nod or even a moment of recognition. And what is sad is that most of the hats look brand new, unlike my current hat that I have had for the last 10 years. It has turned a light blue color and the white around the "B" is now black, and the crud that has built up around the rim is probably either giving me a brain tumor or causing all my hair to fall out. So anymore, unless they have some old school jersey on or a hat that looks like it had been trampled on the floor of a movie theater, I don't waste my time giving the nod. They don't understand.

Strange thing is my son does understand it already. About a year ago I took my son to work and a Judge who is a Yankee fan asked my son "What is that on your hat?" Expecting my son to say "a 'B'", I was shocked by what he did. He took off his hat and looked at it. He looked at the stains and dirt and the overall wear on the hat and he looks up at the Yankee Judge and said, "Tears". And yesterday, when I placed his new hat on his head and asked him if he liked it, he said, "This one doesn't have any tears".

And he was right.

Living on Red Sox time

Today marked the day we print out the Red Sox schedule and start to make plans for the upcoming season. Although we reside in the Central Time Zone, we live on Red Sox time. What this means is we look at the schedule and mark down when we can go on our annual trip to Texas to see the Red Sox, we mark out spaces on our calendar for the Red Sox day games so we can be sure to be home from work, and we have marked down the date to set our alarm clock for the opening day game in Japan. In essence, from April to October, we set our lives on the Red Sox clock.

We do our grocery shopping on Saturday morning to be sure to be home by the Saturday afternoon day game. The grass gets mowed on Sunday afternoons if the Sox have a night game then, but if they have a day game, the grass gets mowed afterwards. On Red Sox off days we schedule the housework and the maintenance on the cars.

Even the smaller routine things are measured on Red Sox time. For example, if my wife asks when was the last time I changed the oil in her car, I can tell her, "It was between the Twins series and the series with the Orioles", and she knows instantly when it was done. My son has learned that it is bath time right after they sing God Bless America during the 7th inning stretch(unless the Sox are playing on the west coast). The time he spends in the bath is measured in outs. He has the choice of 3, 6, or 9 outs. He says, "I want nine outs tonight", that would mean he gets out of the bath at the start of the ninth inning. He also knows that he should have his PJ's on before Papelbon takes the mound. He routinely yells out from his room while trying to put on his pajamas, "Is Papelbon out yet?" And he knows that immediately after Papelbon gets the last out, that it is nighttime. It is like clockwork, as soon as the game ends, he says goodnight to us and gives us kisses and he knows to go to bed.

The trouble is when we are losing and Papelbon doesn't come in. We have to get creative and say that Papelbon is sick so tonight we get Tavarez or Donnelly. I think that he knows though that on the games Papelbon doesn't pitch, we end up losing. Sometimes I hear him say, "I sure hope Papelbon is not sick so we can win!"

If, for whatever reason, we are stuck out somewhere and are missing the game, my wife never asks what time it is. She just asks me, "What inning do you think they are in?" and then she says we should make it home in an inning or two.

Even on a grander scale, we still live on Red Sox time. Anything before 2004 is called BC (before championship). So if she holds up a picture and asks me when it was taken, I immediately check to see if it is BC, and I say, "that was taken before we won, around 2BC", and she knows instantly that I am talking about 2002.

During the game, my wife and I also live on Red Sox time. When my wife asks when I am going to take out the trash, I tell her, "In three more strikes" and she knows that if Wakefield is pitching she might as well take it out.

She even lives on Red Sox time as well. During the game, if she has to run out to get some snacks, she says, "I'll be back in 2 innings" and I know that she'll be back in about 30-45 minutes.

This is the best time of the year. We set our clocks to Red Sox time!

The Rainbow Connection

With spring training just around the corner and talk of the pitchers and catchers reporting, I can't think of a better time to post this video I made right after the 2004 world series to get us ready for the 2008 season. The reason I chose this song is because when I was a child, when I heard this song, I thought of the Red Sox. In my mind I would see images of us winning the world series.

One Christmas, many years ago, I was given a snowglobe with Fenway Park inside. But instead of snow, it sprinkled confetti. When you turned the dial, it would play "take me out to the ballgame" I remember back in the late 90's telling my wife, "this is what it will look like when we win", and would shake the globe and watch the confetti fly over Fenway. She thought I was crazy, but I hung in there knowing that one day we would find it - the Rainbow Connection. And on 10/27/04, we finally found it - the lovers, the dreamers, and me.

It Was Our Destination

With the Clemens hearings going strong, I like to focus on the fun aspects of baseball. Maybe our most fun player is Manny Ramirez. It is so fun to watch Manny wander around in left field, going into the green monster in the middle of an inning to do whatever, and doing his finger pointing/wave to fans and other players. We call it the "Manny Wave". All of these antics is what we call "Manny being Manny".

My favorite Manny being Manny moment was immediately after we won the 2004 world series. He was given the MVP trophy and the whole time he was smiling and giving over emphasized 'Manny waves' to everyone in the club house. Now this was someone who earlier in the year was put on waivers, then almost traded to the Rangers for Arod, and now he was getting the MVP trophy for the world series. Then Jeanne Zelasko asked him, "Sir, do you believe in curses?" and his reply was truly another Manny moment. He said, "No, I don't believe in curse, I think we all make our own destination." I think that wrapped up the 2004 team in one sentence.

I found another Manny moment on youtube and I will post it here. It was from last year and Manny and Julian was sitting in the dugout and Manny was rubbing Julian's hair. The best part of the clip is the commentary between Don and Jerry. Don saying that sometimes he gets the urge to tidy up Jerry's hair and Jerry tells him to control his urges and stay on his side of the booth. Don saying, "Make him stop !" and the both of them laughing out loud is just great.

Someday, the Manny era with the Sox will end and that will be a sad day. I know that he sometimes drives us crazy with his fielding, but his Manny moments and his bat makes it all worthwhile.

Here's hoping to many more Manny moments this upcoming year!

What a Wonderful World

When the time came to buy tickets for the 2005 Red Sox games, the biggest thing I remember was when I called the ticket office and the voice on the other line began talking about tickets for sale and the dates that certain teams are playing. The voice said, "Tickets are now available for games against the World Champion Boston Red Sox" and I got that feeling in your stomach when your teacher would call on you in class and you hadn't done your homework. "Did I just hear what I thought I heard?"

After I bought the tickets, I had to call back just to hear the recording. "The World Champion Boston Red Sox..." It had been over 4 months, and I still couldn't believe it. I told my wife to call and listen to the message and said, "Is that what you wanted me to hear?"

I told her, "They said World Champion Boston Red Sox, did you hear them?" She just shook her head and asked if I had bought the tickets yet. I guess she didn't realize how unbelievable that message was. She was still a fairly new Sox fan then. You know, even today it is still hard to believe that we had won it.

This is a video I made during the 2005 season about our championsip team.

It's Truck Day

I have always loved Truck Day. It is much better than Groundhog Day in that Truck Day is a sure sign that Summer is on its way and Winter will soon be behind us. Every year Red Sox fans gather outside Fenway to watch a truck get loaded with gear and head down to Florida for the start of Spring Training. Why do so many fans come out on a cold February morning to watch a truck get loaded with boxes? Probably because we all know that the boxes are not just filled with wooden bats and new jerseys and other baseball equipment.

Inside those boxes are the promise of summer. A promise that soon our days will be filled with the smell of hot dogs being cooked on a grill and the sound of Don and the RemDawg filling the living room every night with their play by play.
Inside each box holds hope that this summer will be filled with memories spent with family watching the Red Sox, holding our breath with each pitch, and the hope that maybe our prayers this year will be answered once again.

Inside each box is the dreams of a new Red Sox fan possibly falling in love with our team this summer. The dream that perhaps one of the bats sitting in one of those boxes will hit a game winning home run some summer night, maybe even against the Yankees!

Pitchers and catchers report and 3 days and opening day is only 44 days away. It can't come soon enough.

Finally ! A Look Back at 10-27-04

When October 27th, 2004 finally ended, I had to sit down and write down exactly what was going on in my head. My Sox had just won the world series. I was dizzy from lack of sleep, yet so excited I couldn't think of sleeping. So I sat down and wrote this down. I wrote so 10 years from now, or 50 years from now, I can sit down and read what I was thinking when the impossible happened. It was something I had always dreamed of. And it was better than I ever imagined. Here is the story with the picture I had waited an entire lifetime to take.

My wife nodded her head and told me to go get him. I had been asking her if it was time for me to go get our one year old son and wake him up. We planned to wake him when the Red Sox won the world series so he wouldn't miss it. I had been asking her for the last two innings, but she had said no, so as to not jinx our team. She had seen us lose too many games in the late innings. So now with one out in the bottom of the ninth, I was going into the nursery to wake him up.

He stirred when I picked him up and I whispered into his ear, 'Come see something no one's seen in 86 years'. I began to walk back into the living room and I remembered all the times I had thought 'this was the year' and it never happened. But right now at this very minute, it is actually possible. It is not just wishful thinking. It can actually happen.

As I held him in front of the TV I remembered many years ago, as a child, the hours I spent in the backyard of our house swinging an old wooden bat and dancing like Carlton Fisk waving the ball fair. Except when I did it, the home run was to win the championship.

I remembered for my birthday, every year as a child, I would close my eyes, cross my fingers and wish for my Red Sox to win the world series as I blew out the candles. My birthday was in September and by October, they had always let me down. I couldn't understand why my birthday wishes never came true.

My mind continues to spin as I remembered 1986 when we were one strike away from winning the world series and yet lost. I remembered my mom, who used to think baseball as dull and boring. She got hooked on the Red Sox that year but after their collapse in game six she refused to watch game seven with me stating that the game is too emotional and takes too much out of you. She left me alone to watch game seven and to this day we haven't seen a game together since. She told me she would never get hooked on them again. 'Never more,' she had told me, but it was funny she called earlier tonight to wish us luck. She still followed them, but I guess at a safe distance, one where they would not hurt her again.

As I stand in front of the TV, I continue to hold Austin and we watch the Red Sox get the second out in the ninth. I think back to last year. My wife was pregnant with Austin and all summer long, every day we watched every Red Sox game. When she gave birth to Austin, in the baby book, she wrote, 'You were born August 27th, and on your first weekend, the Red Sox beat the Yankees.'

I remember standing at this same place last year and watching Aaron Boone hit the home run to beat us in the playoffs. I was holding Austin then too and I remembered he had cried at that very moment. Debbie thought it was because I had yelled, but I think it was because he knew what had just happened. I had felt like I had done the worst thing a father could do to his son. I was supposed to protect him and keep him from harm, but I was allowing the Red Sox to do to him what I wouldn't allow anyone else and that was break his heart. After that game, my wife, with pain in her eyes, told me she wasn't going to watch them any more and she left me alone to watch the Yankees celebrate on the field.

I remember when April came, my wife, forgetting the pain the Sox inflicted on her, was the first to get tickets to the Red Sox games in Texas. She explained to me that the Red Sox are like being in a dysfunctional relationship. One where they treat you so badly but you love them so much, you always come back. We went to Texas and got swept by the Rangers and lost every game. I guess they were testing her love again. In one of the games, during the seventh inning stretch, all the Ranger fans were dancing and singing and having a good time. Then on the big screen at the stadium, after showing several Ranger fans having fun, a Red Sox fan came on the screen. He wasn't dancing, he wasn't singing. With a worried look on his face, he simply pointed to his left arm indicating it was time to go the bullpen. Upon seeing that, Debbie knew what it was like to be a Sox fan. Being a Red Sox fan is not fun. The games are work, we always have to be thinking of our next move. There is no time for fun, not until we win it all.

I turn up the volume on the TV and I turn around to tell Debbie we need three more strikes. She is pouring the champaign in preparation for the final out. As I turn back to the TV, I remember just a little over a week ago thinking we were done. I remember the excitement of the upcoming series with the Yankees. I remember us losing game 1 and hearing that Schilling, our best pitcher was injured and out for the year. I remember losing game 2 and how the Yankee fans had tormented Pedro Martinez. I remember my wife telling me she had seen enough in game 3 and she told me she felt betrayed for believing in them again. And while we were losing 19-8 we heard that no team had ever come back to win being down 3 games to none in a best of seven series.

Game 4 was a Sunday night and I remember not making it to sleep until 3 am. We hit a home run to win it in the 12th inning. That game was the longest playoff game ever, finishing in just over 5 hours and I had paced the floor for every minute.

I remember being dead tired for game 5 but I paced the floor for all 14 innings of this game. My nerves kept me from sitting. We won it in the bottom of the 14th and this one broke the record as the longest game ever breaking the record from the night before. I didn't sleep that night at all catching as much post game as possible and there was talk that Schilling was going to pitch game 6!

My wife had said that this was part of the curse. That they make us think they have a chance and then they will lose. We started to watch game 6 and noticed that Schilling had blood seeping through his sock from his ankle. It was like something from a movie. He gritted it out and left the game in the 8th with the lead. Immediately, our relief pitcher came in and gave up a run and the Yankees had the winning runs coming up to bat.

I thought we had lost it when A-rod caused our pitcher, Bronson Arroyo to drop the ball on a tag, but the umpires ruled that A-rod had slapped at the ball causing interference and he was called out. The Yankee fans then started throwing things on the field and the police had to line the field in riot gear. My wife and I looked at each other, both out of breath, all of this was unbelievable, could we actually beat the Yankees?

In the ninth inning, our closer came in and walked the first batter. The tying run was at the plate. Debbie started fanning her face and stated that she couldn't bear to watch anymore, that the Red Sox were making her angry and she stood up. She said she couldn't watch us blow this game after Schilling pitched so well on a bloody ankle, and she just walked away. She left me to watch the game by myself.

I watched our closer get the next two Yankees out, but then he walked the next batter which meant the winning run was at the plate. I had to tell Debbie we were one out away. I walked into the bedroom and all the lights were out. I then looked over to the corner of the room and there she was leaning against the wall. Her hands were on her knees and her head was bowed. Struggling through the darkness was the low sound of the radio play by play. The darkness provided a comfort and a sense of safety and it hid the pain the Red Sox was about to inflict. She looked up at me and there was uncertainty on her face. I didn't tell her we needed one more out, she knew.

I went back out to watch the final out and when it came, from the back room I heard a scream. She came running out of the bedroom jumping up and down. The Red Sox didn't let her down, and we were getting ready for game 7 tomorrow!

In typical Yankee arrogance, they had Bucky Dent throw out the first pitch, but it didn't help, game 7 wasn't even close and we beat them 10-3. The Red Sox celebrated in Yankee Stadium, it was something I thought I would never see. Players were taking pictures and saving clumps of dirt from the field. It was unbelievable!

And now, as I hold Austin here in the ninth inning of game 4 of the world series, I feel my legs are weak from lack of sleep. I haven't shaved in two weeks, not wanting to jinx my team. The carpet is actually worn thin where I have paced back and forth the last couple of weeks. Now just one out away, but I have been this close before. And then there is a ground ball to our pitcher, ... he has it, ... he tosses it to first. It is over! My wife snaps a picture to prove we saw it. Eighty Six years of losing is now past. I can't believe it. I collapse to the ground.

As the Red Sox players run onto the field to celebrate, I notice that our center fielder, number 18, runs over and embraces our right fielder, number 19. As they jump up and down in celebration, their shoulders touch and their jersey numbers come together. It forms the date '1918', the last year we had won the world series. It serves as one final reminder of how long we have all waited for this one moment. We don't have to wait any longer. We can finally sing and dance during the seventh inning stretch. We can finally have fun.

The Red Sox - MY Red Sox, are World Champions. - at last !

Curt's Last Stand?

There are reports that Curt Schilling has a torn rotator cuff and he may be out for the year. There are other reports that say he may be back some time after the all-star break and I would bet that Curt will be back some time around then. Even if he pitches only in September for the home stretch, I would bet he will be back. We have to remember this is the guy who had his ankle sewn together so he could pitch in 2004.

Do you remember when we first picked him up around thanksgiving 2003? When he said, "I guess I hate the Yankees now too" and "I can't think of anything more enjoyable than making 55,000 fans from New York shut up." He was one of us and we loved him for it. Then there were those commercials he did. Remember the dunkin donut one where he was walking around the locker room trying to speak like a Bostonian, something about "Pahking his cah when he gets to the pahk." And my favorite, the one where he is hitchiking out of Arizona. He gets picked up and the driver asks him where he is going and he says, "Boston, I have to go erase an 86 year curse." And he did.

I hope that this isn't the last image we have of Curt in a Red Sox jersey and I would bet it won't be. If we have learned one thing, he will do whatever it takes to make it back on the mound. Hoping you a speedy recovery Curt... hurry up back.

Win It For ...

Those last two weeks of October 2004 went by so fast. After sweeping the Angels, and then losing the first 3 games to the Yankees, it looked like once again, we were going to have to wait another year. But then, we all know what happened. Millar walked, Roberts stole second and Mueller tied it up with a base hit. All of this in the bottom of the ninth. Then Big Papi was Big Papi once again, and we won it in extra innings. We won again in extra innings the next night and from that point, I don't think the Yankees had a chance. Game 6 showed the Yankees desperation and revealed A-rods true colors as he was caught cheating by slapping the ball out of Arroyo's glove and my favorite part was the look on A-rod's face after he was caught. He had the look my son has when he is caught eating chocolate before dinner - like "what did I do?" I am so glad we never got him!

Before game 7, I stumbled across a thread on the Son of Sam Horn web site titled "Win it for ...". It told hundreds and hundreds of stories of people who were asking the Sox to win it for certain people in their family who were not around to witness what was happening. By the time game 4 of the world series came around, there were thousands of entries and I spent hours reading each one. On October 27, 2004, in the morning I added my entry. The entries were eventually made into a book, and mine didn't make, but I thought I would include it here. Little did I know that within 24 hours of writing it, my Red Sox were going to change my life. We were going to win the world series! Here it is...

Win it for....

My Wife - win it because although she remained strong and didn't give in to my obsession for several years, they eventually sucked her in. Win it because she remained at that game years ago for the entire 18 innings, being told by security to sit down twice, never once asking to leave, and cheering to the end of that 18 inning loss at two in the morning. Win it because she watched the games even after her favorite player, Todd Walker was traded, then Shea Hillenbrand, then Nomar and she always came back. Win it because she wears Red Sox earrings to all the games, the ones she picked out because they would bring us luck. Win it because her Sox hat had been worn enough to have sweat stains around the rim. Win it because she wrote in the wedding book "The Sox swept the Yankees" the weekend of her wedding. Win it because she can hold her own in any argument with a Yankee fan. Win it because she cried when Boone beat us last year. Win it because she knows this is much more than "just a game."

Win it for ...

My son Austin - Win it because he leans toward the tv and mumbles, "C'mon Manny" every time any Red Sox player steps up to bat. Win it because he can imitate his favorite pitcher "Bronson Ayo-yo", leg kick and all. Win it because he celebrates every Red Sox win by throwing his hat in the air and jumping up and down. Win it because after we ran the bases at the Texas Rangers AAA team's ballpark, I set him down on home plate, he touched his heart and pointed to the sky, just like Big Papi. Win it because he can't go anywhere without wearing his "B" hat on his head. Win it because instead of waving hello, he simply points and gives a "Manny wave". Win it because he thinks the last two words of the National Anthem is "Play Ball !" Win it because his first word he ever said was "Go!" and that was during a Sox game when we needed a stolen base. Win it because the next word he ever spoke was "Manny" even though his mom would like to think he actually said "Mommy", but that will be our secret. Win it so he will never have to hear Yankee fans chant "1918!" Most of all, win it because like his father 30 years ago, he is falling in love with the Red Sox for the first time. Win it so his first love never breaks his heart.

And they won it !!

Opening Day 2004

My son Austin was born in August 2003, and not even being 2 months old, the Red Sox welcomed him to the family by breaking his heart. We had purchased the MLB Extra Innings package and we watched every game that year. My wife was pregnant throughout the season and we dreamed how nice it would be to have the Sox win it on the year he was born.

We "cowboyed up" with Millar and hung on every pitch Pedro made, but it all ended so quickly when Aaron Boone hit Wakefield's knuckler into the crowd. I felt horrible. I remember handing Austin back to my wife, and through tears told her, "Thank you for watching them with me this year." She said, "It is sad," and she had tears in her eyes too. I felt bad because not only did the Sox lose, but as I looked around my family I saw what the Red Sox were doing to it. My wife was in tears, I was heartbroken for a thousandth time, and now I was willingly and encouragely pushing my infant son to be one of us too. At that point I began to wonder if I was doing the right thing. I felt it was my fault, that I had told them, "look how fun the Red Sox are," but I had lied. I felt it was like a defective gene that must be passed on to the next generation and I couldn't do anything about it. As always though, we hung in there, we survived and it only made 2004 that much better.

I came across this article I wrote on opening day 2004 and this picture of my son which was posted on The Remy Report on opening day 2004 as well. I like to think that maybe, it began something that year that lead to us winning it all. Little did I know, that "Wait till next year!" was this year! -Anyway here is the article...

Spring is finally here!! For many of us, spring means the beginning of something new. Spring is the time we start the new project on the Porsche and spring is when we begin the new Porsche racing season. In my house, spring is both of those things, but also something more. Spring is the start of the baseball season. Despite knowing my Red Sox haven't won it all since 1918, this is the time of year when I begin to say, 'maybe this is the year'. I have said that every year and every year they keep me waiting.

I remember as a child in 1975, crying myself to sleep after a game 7 loss in the world series. The collapse of 1978 still makes me mad even today, and in 1986, we were 1 strike away from winning it all, but yet we lost. In 1988 I bought a bottle of wine when we made the playoffs, waiting to open it until when we had won the world series. After 4 quick games, the bottle went back into the cupboard. In 1990, the bottle came out again, only to remain unopened. In 1995, my future wife didn't understand why I dragged out a dusty bottle of wine when the Sox made the playoffs again. She and I watched the Sox lose to the Indians and I placed the bottle back on the shelf. My wife became a fan in 1999 and she watched us lose to the Yankees in the playoffs and the bottle remained unopened. By 2003, she was addicted, and when she told me we were going to have a son, she added, 'and he will be born right before the playoffs.'

By midseason, my wife could recite the batting order by memory and she knew every player by number. Our son Austin was born in August and in October, we had made the playoffs. That same dusty, old bottle of wine made its entrance and sat on top of the TV. We had it all planned out, I was to hold Austin in front of the TV and my wife was to take the picture when the Sox won it all. It would be proof when he got older that he saw it with his own eyes. All of us cheered throughout the playoffs until the 11th inning of game 7 when the Yankees hit a home run to beat us. At that very minute, he began to cry. I think it was because he knew we had just lost, but my wife thinks it was because I had scared him when I let out a muffled scream. My wife, still holding the camera, and with tears in her eyes, told me to turn off the TV, she didn't want to see the Yankees celebrating on the field. As I was securing the wine back in its resting place I realized I had just welcomed Austin into the world of being a Red Sox fan and another heartbreak.

When Christmas came, Santa brought Austin a Red Sox jersey. I couldn't wait to see him in it. I started to pull it over his head, but then I stopped. It hurt me to think it, but maybe I should keep him away from the Red Sox. When the season ends, I don't want him to shed a tear or lose sleep over a game like I have had to. I plan on protecting him and keeping him from harm, but I was going to allow the Red Sox to do to him what I wouldn't allow anyone else, I was going to allow them to break his heart. I pulled the jersey over his head and onto his shoulders and he smiled. I told him I was sorry. He didn't understand.

So for me, this spring, I will once again start a few new projects, but I would really like to finish one old one. This spring, everyone in my house will be rooting for the Red Sox and I will once again be hesitantly optimistic. I know that being a Red Sox fan costs too much, and the weight of the jersey is sometimes a lot to bear, but it will all be worth it if we could only see them win it once. My wife now realizes it has been 86 years since the last Red Sox championship, and a lot of other Red Sox fans never lived long enough to see them win it all. Every once in a while she jokes that I should probably add the bottle of wine to my will. This spring, I think I will do just that, while I continue to hope 'this is the year'.

I introduce the sox to my wife

I met my wife in the summer of 1995 and the Red Sox were having a playoff year. Her birthday fell on game one of the division playoff against Cleveland, and although I had kept her from the Red Sox all summer, the pictures from her birthday party show the Red Sox game in the background and me wearing my 1986 Red Sox AL Champions shirt. We lost that game in extra innings and went on to get swept in the series. It was our 13th straight postseason loss.

By 1998, we were living over 1000 miles apart from each other, but on her birthday, she came to visit. As it appeared our relationship was ready to go to the next level, I told her about 1986 and 1988, 1990, and 1995 and how we had lost 13 straight playoff games. She asked a lot about the rules of the game and by the time game 4 came around she had a decent grip on the game. Down 2 games to 1, game 4 fell on her birthday. In the 8th inning, with the Red Sox in the lead, Tom Gordon came in to pitch and the TV showed something like Gordon had not blown a save in something like 40 consecutive attempts and had only 1 blown save the entire year. She was standing and cheering, (she didn't know better), but I remained seated and I looked over to Debbie and said, "just watch, he will blow this one."

She didn't understand how I could be so negative, but within 2 minutes, he had blown the game and the Red Sox were done for another year. That was when I told her about 1918 and how long it had been since we won.

By the time the Red Sox made the playoffs in 99, we were married and now she couldn't escape the pull of the Sox. Down 2-0 in the Indian series we came back to win 3 in a row and we both cheered when Pedro came in (in relief) and pitched 6 innings of no hit ball. During our series with the Yankees, I properly introduced her to my "summer family", the Red Sox. I brought out old VHS tapes of old games and showed her Fisk and Yaz, and I even replayed the Buckner game for her. During this time, I was nervous, sort of like a kid when you take your girlfriend home to meet the parents. You hope they like each other or your life can really be miserable. Then in game 4 of the Yankee series, when the game started to get out of hand, my "summer family" embarrassed me. After Offerman was called out on a phantom tag by Chuck Knoblauch of the Yankees, the Red Sox fans started throwing trash on the field and the game was placed on hold. I told her it was just 81 years of frustration boiling over and that we are all not like that. I don't think it bothered her, but at the time, I thought she may not like the Sox because of that one incident. But I didn't need to worry, the Red Sox were just starting to pull her in.

Starting in 2000, we have made nearly every game in Texas when the Sox play the Rangers, and through the years, we have witnessed the longest game in Ranger history (18 innings and one where my wife was yelled at by security to quit standing on her seat - twice) and we have witnessed the coldest game in Ranger history (opening series 2007). She cried when Aaron Boone beat us in 2003 and she cheered and cried again when that ball was "underhanded to first" in 2004. She is a Red Sox fan. They got her too.

The Beginning

I suppose all Red Sox fans fall into two categories. The first category is the Red Sox fan who was born into it. This would be the category my two children would fall in. It is in their blood, much like high blood pressure or the color of their eyes, it is in their DNA. The other category of Red Sox fan, is the fan that chose to be a member of Fenway Faithful. That is the category I would fall into.

I guess it really all started in October 1975 when living in Ohio, I was allowed to stay up to watch the World Series. The family was going for the Reds since we were in Ohio and I watched the games not following any team. I have no memories of any of the games, I don't even remember Carlton Fisks home run in Game 6. The only memory I have is of Fenway Park. Even in the days long before high definiton TV's, I thought Fenway Park was the most beautiful park I had ever seen. In particular, I loved the Green Monster. I was amazed that people could hit the ball over a wall that tall.
The memory of Fenway lingered and I remember in 1977, watching as many baseball games as I could in order to find that ballpark again not knowing even which team played there. Then one day in the summer of 77, I found a Red Sox home game on TV and I was pulled back in again. I remember saying to myself that is my favorite team and I began collecting as many Red Sox baseball cards as I could find.

1978 was the season I followed them on a daily basis. We lived in Florida at the time and I could only watch them when they appeared on Saturday afternoons and even then it was only 3 or 4 times per year. I did though get the newspaper every morning and without looking at the final score, try to find the boxscore of the Red Sox game. I placed my thumb over the boxscore and slowly slid my thumb to the right revealing one inning at a time. In my mind, I would play out the entire game. I would then spend at least an hour reading over the scorecard seeing how my favorite player Yaz did, or see if Jerry Remy stole any bases, or if Rice or Lynn or Fisk hit any home runs.

Then the Bucky Dent game happened. I faked a cold so my mom let me stay home from school and I watched the game on TV. I suppose it was that game where my dislike for the Yankees began. When Yaz came to bat in the bottom of the ninth, I just knew he was going to pull it off for us. When he instead popped out to third, I don't remember being upset or crying but I do remember I felt bad for Yaz.

From that day on, I was addicted. I was 10, and I never gave any thought, that almost 30 years later, they would be such a big part of my life. I have followed them daily ever since and it was a choice. A choice that through it all, the good, the bad, the heartbreak and the joy, I am glad I made. Pitchers and catchers report in 11 days !