Being a Red Sox fan means a life of anguish, hope and passion. You must have faith through repeated failures, to bear the disappointment cycles, and have the courage to believe that a group of men can only come together for acts of heroism.
For those born and raised in New England, the Red Sox are passed as family heirlooms from generation to generation. This is a thread that runs through the family history and tradition. As a rite of passage takes pride father with the son of Fenway Park for the first time. Grandpa sits on the porch talking to grandchildren about the Red Sox of yesteryear. Brothers play baseball in the streets of Boston, which claims to be his favorite player. But even a transplanted Red Sox fans, like me, who lives elsewhere and found the team later in life shares the same love for the team you see in the lifestyle, behaviors and beliefs.
Since the victory of the first World Series in 1912, the dream season of 67, the devastation of '86, and '99 postseason anguish, when the team combined to defeat the Indians only to be killed by the Yankees in the ALCS, Sox fan is a mind full of history. The dates of the losses, victories and monumental moments stay in your mind. You know there never was a man who did more for the Red Sox as a player, coach and fan of Johnny Pesky. You know the days of Ted Williams and Carl Yastrzemski retired. You are an expert in the infamous Babe Ruth "curse" and the new rhetoric of England to reverse it. And, of course, when the Red Sox won the World Series in 2004, a total 86 years after their last title, which had a single, teary-eyed thinking that coincided with the collective consciousness of all Sox fans: I can now die happy.
The life of a Red Sox fan is a difficult question. Their behavior, manic sporadically and is dictated by the team wins and losses. Who are fans and neurotic, engaged in a love-hate relationship, where the computer determines the position available. After a loss that is removed, looking at the world through the eyes sunken suspects and muttering to himself about that crucial catch in the seventh inning that could have changed everything. If this is a post-season loss which may stop eating altogether, medical consultation in the work of a few days and ask everyone to leave you alone. As ESPN shows summaries mourn, consider returning to confess their religious beliefs, drinking cocktails and economy size. When they make are jumping on the couch, the air is a fist in joy, and his life reaches a global ecstasy where it seems that nothing could be wrong. Call for fellow fans enjoy mutual congratulation, discuss details of the game and shouting words of how "we" kicked "her" ass. Beers broke down, down, and threw it across the room. (As the saying goes, in Boston, win or lose we drink alcohol.) You can walk around with a lift in your step, touting post-season possibilities and talking optimistically. The victory is a testament to his faith, and believes that, beyond what has happened in the past and make predictions for the future, the team can keep winning.
As a Red Sox fan, your skin should be thick. For you will be subject to ridicule, slander, shit-talking and down. Because the team is known for losing a critical game repeatedly, foreigners will come up to you and distort the history of the Red Sox. They will recite famous losses, rubbing salt into the wound and degrading mistakes players with play-by-play. They pat on the back and say they feel sorry for you, smiling all the time. However, there are those who share his love for the team instant smile to see their membership Sox and talk to you like an old friend. Immediately a feeling of camaraderie and close relationship with them, these people are part of a nation of Red Sox fans who share a common bond, regardless of the roots, race or gender.
With fans that form a congregation in the country, the Red Sox are like a religion. As a faithful follower who live by their doctrine. The creed of brotherhood, strength of spirit, and integrity that the team lives by rules his conduct. This belief is exemplified in interactions, both inside and outside the field in the central office of the Red Sox, John Henry, owner, general manager Theo Epstein and Terry Francona as a head coach, and players who have been a staple in the team for several years, Manny Ramirez, Trot Nixon, and Tim Wakefield. Fenway Park, with its narrow seats, cracked pillars, and is battered hot dog is considered a sanctuary and a place of worship. It smells and talks baseball history. Sitting in their booths are Fenway faithful, who have journeyed hundreds of miles, sold the car or the best credit card to get inside its doors sacred. The game days are sacred. If you have entries missing work, cancel dates, and postpone the wedding.
Exposing affection for the team is also part of being a Red Sox fan. Objects of interest exist in all aspects of his life, is part of their fanaticism. Your car has a bumper-sticker and / or support of the license plate. A framed picture of the baseball team or crashes somewhere in your home. A flag adorns the Sox either your front door or garage. Articles of work-related news in your closet hanging stockings and a miniature Wally the Green Monster mascot sits on your desktop. A pet or child, is the name of your favorite player. His cabinet is standard equipment: hats, at least 5, sweaters, shirts, even underwear.
But above all, above all and most importantly for the existence of a Red Sox fan of: to hate the Yankees. Dating from 1918, the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry has its roots in the history of each team and then in the culture of the fans. Ruthless, arrogant, and a player of theft, the Bronx Bombers have wronged more than Red Sox fans remember. Our vengeance on despise them as there are the devil in disguise and the rejection of all things related to the Yankees. (This includes family, friends and lovers.) Combating the twenty-something World Series titles (actually count) and the portions huge payroll that exceeds the Red Sox, who must profess the mantra of "Yankees suck "and discuss them with disgust. Never publicly praise, no matter how good your players. And always be prepared with an argument to show how and why the Sox are better, and have all-time fervor that Red Sox should have beaten, but the mysterious power of the evil American empire. If the Red Sox are a religion, the Yankees are the anti-Christ to avoid, and never, never think or speak of them with something other than hate.
Heart, hope and passion that is what counts with a Red Sox fan. You should love them entirely, hurt by them willingly. You must be willing to forgive when they break your heart (and if you are a player, your bank account) and keep them up when others put them down. A Sox fan is like any other fan. No turning back, there can be no other team, you're a fan for life. You have fractions of insanity, finding yourself saying things like: "Only three Grand Slam tournaments and a solo homer to tie" when the Red Sox are at the bottom of the ninth. In February is full of dreams of spring training, your heart begins to swell with new hope and no matter what has happened last fall you fall in love again. It is the sweetest thing for love, are the desire and death, his double-edged addiction. They make you tired and wild, passionate and poor in spirit. They depart from the tradition of his story with you and fill you with the promise of harvest. Wait and wonder and predict all season, and the final delivery - win or lose. You get baseball: beautiful and pure and classic. They give themselves.
For those born and raised in New England, the Red Sox are passed as family heirlooms from generation to generation. This is a thread that runs through the family history and tradition. As a rite of passage takes pride father with the son of Fenway Park for the first time. Grandpa sits on the porch talking to grandchildren about the Red Sox of yesteryear. Brothers play baseball in the streets of Boston, which claims to be his favorite player. But even a transplanted Red Sox fans, like me, who lives elsewhere and found the team later in life shares the same love for the team you see in the lifestyle, behaviors and beliefs.
Since the victory of the first World Series in 1912, the dream season of 67, the devastation of '86, and '99 postseason anguish, when the team combined to defeat the Indians only to be killed by the Yankees in the ALCS, Sox fan is a mind full of history. The dates of the losses, victories and monumental moments stay in your mind. You know there never was a man who did more for the Red Sox as a player, coach and fan of Johnny Pesky. You know the days of Ted Williams and Carl Yastrzemski retired. You are an expert in the infamous Babe Ruth "curse" and the new rhetoric of England to reverse it. And, of course, when the Red Sox won the World Series in 2004, a total 86 years after their last title, which had a single, teary-eyed thinking that coincided with the collective consciousness of all Sox fans: I can now die happy.
The life of a Red Sox fan is a difficult question. Their behavior, manic sporadically and is dictated by the team wins and losses. Who are fans and neurotic, engaged in a love-hate relationship, where the computer determines the position available. After a loss that is removed, looking at the world through the eyes sunken suspects and muttering to himself about that crucial catch in the seventh inning that could have changed everything. If this is a post-season loss which may stop eating altogether, medical consultation in the work of a few days and ask everyone to leave you alone. As ESPN shows summaries mourn, consider returning to confess their religious beliefs, drinking cocktails and economy size. When they make are jumping on the couch, the air is a fist in joy, and his life reaches a global ecstasy where it seems that nothing could be wrong. Call for fellow fans enjoy mutual congratulation, discuss details of the game and shouting words of how "we" kicked "her" ass. Beers broke down, down, and threw it across the room. (As the saying goes, in Boston, win or lose we drink alcohol.) You can walk around with a lift in your step, touting post-season possibilities and talking optimistically. The victory is a testament to his faith, and believes that, beyond what has happened in the past and make predictions for the future, the team can keep winning.
As a Red Sox fan, your skin should be thick. For you will be subject to ridicule, slander, shit-talking and down. Because the team is known for losing a critical game repeatedly, foreigners will come up to you and distort the history of the Red Sox. They will recite famous losses, rubbing salt into the wound and degrading mistakes players with play-by-play. They pat on the back and say they feel sorry for you, smiling all the time. However, there are those who share his love for the team instant smile to see their membership Sox and talk to you like an old friend. Immediately a feeling of camaraderie and close relationship with them, these people are part of a nation of Red Sox fans who share a common bond, regardless of the roots, race or gender.
With fans that form a congregation in the country, the Red Sox are like a religion. As a faithful follower who live by their doctrine. The creed of brotherhood, strength of spirit, and integrity that the team lives by rules his conduct. This belief is exemplified in interactions, both inside and outside the field in the central office of the Red Sox, John Henry, owner, general manager Theo Epstein and Terry Francona as a head coach, and players who have been a staple in the team for several years, Manny Ramirez, Trot Nixon, and Tim Wakefield. Fenway Park, with its narrow seats, cracked pillars, and is battered hot dog is considered a sanctuary and a place of worship. It smells and talks baseball history. Sitting in their booths are Fenway faithful, who have journeyed hundreds of miles, sold the car or the best credit card to get inside its doors sacred. The game days are sacred. If you have entries missing work, cancel dates, and postpone the wedding.
Exposing affection for the team is also part of being a Red Sox fan. Objects of interest exist in all aspects of his life, is part of their fanaticism. Your car has a bumper-sticker and / or support of the license plate. A framed picture of the baseball team or crashes somewhere in your home. A flag adorns the Sox either your front door or garage. Articles of work-related news in your closet hanging stockings and a miniature Wally the Green Monster mascot sits on your desktop. A pet or child, is the name of your favorite player. His cabinet is standard equipment: hats, at least 5, sweaters, shirts, even underwear.
But above all, above all and most importantly for the existence of a Red Sox fan of: to hate the Yankees. Dating from 1918, the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry has its roots in the history of each team and then in the culture of the fans. Ruthless, arrogant, and a player of theft, the Bronx Bombers have wronged more than Red Sox fans remember. Our vengeance on despise them as there are the devil in disguise and the rejection of all things related to the Yankees. (This includes family, friends and lovers.) Combating the twenty-something World Series titles (actually count) and the portions huge payroll that exceeds the Red Sox, who must profess the mantra of "Yankees suck "and discuss them with disgust. Never publicly praise, no matter how good your players. And always be prepared with an argument to show how and why the Sox are better, and have all-time fervor that Red Sox should have beaten, but the mysterious power of the evil American empire. If the Red Sox are a religion, the Yankees are the anti-Christ to avoid, and never, never think or speak of them with something other than hate.
Heart, hope and passion that is what counts with a Red Sox fan. You should love them entirely, hurt by them willingly. You must be willing to forgive when they break your heart (and if you are a player, your bank account) and keep them up when others put them down. A Sox fan is like any other fan. No turning back, there can be no other team, you're a fan for life. You have fractions of insanity, finding yourself saying things like: "Only three Grand Slam tournaments and a solo homer to tie" when the Red Sox are at the bottom of the ninth. In February is full of dreams of spring training, your heart begins to swell with new hope and no matter what has happened last fall you fall in love again. It is the sweetest thing for love, are the desire and death, his double-edged addiction. They make you tired and wild, passionate and poor in spirit. They depart from the tradition of his story with you and fill you with the promise of harvest. Wait and wonder and predict all season, and the final delivery - win or lose. You get baseball: beautiful and pure and classic. They give themselves.
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