Why I am a Red Sox fan

It's a question I get asked a lot actually, how I became a Red Sox fan living all the way down here in the West Texas town of El Paso. The answer is quite simply, Nomar Garciaparra. Even though I have always been a baseball fan, it never really came full circle for me until I was about 10 or 11, around 1999. I had never disliked the Red Sox, but I had always just kind of followed my grandpa's coattails when it came to rooting for a team, in his case the Dodgers. When I decided to kind of branch out and find my own team, I took notice of a guy with an unusual name and an even more unusual batting routine. From then on I was a lost cause. Any spare moment I had was devoted to Nomar and his Red Sox. Any book I read was on baseball. Any paper I wrote was on baseball. Any conversation I had was dominated by one subject; our great American Pastime. Even though my grandpa spoke primarily Spanish and I speak primarily English (with a little bit of Spanish and an even smaller amount of German might I add), we were able to carry on conversations stemming from the game that has been bringing families together for years. It was a way to get past the language barrier and come together on one common ground.

As I said earlier, from the moment I fell in love with those Boston boys I was gone. Any kind of project immediately belonged to the Red Sox. They completely took over my heart, but I can't say that I gave much of a fight. Slowly, my room began to look less like a casual fan's room and more like one who is addicted. My parents have always said that I go into something hard and passionate and this transformation into a Red Sox fan wasn't any different. That was 10 years ago and 10 years later I haven't changed a bit. My dorm room is covered in Red Sox memorabilia, from the old weathered cap, to the blanket on my bed, to the calendars and posters, to the plethora of shirts and jackets in my closet. My pickup truck, adoringly named Sherlock, is covered in Red Sox stickers, with more coming this summer. And my beloved Nokia and Itouch are decked out with the latest Boston screensavers. Yes...I am a fan and yes I am obsessed.

But why am I a fan? Why have these boys stolen my heart and kept it for 10 years? Why have I never wavered from my stance as a proud member of Red Sox Nation?

The honest answer...is that I can't really answer that. There's just so much to love about them and I could never see myself wearing any other team's colors. What's not to love about seeing Pedey out there every game, giving his all? What's not to love about seeing that Green Monster? What's not to love about singing "Sweet Caroline" or hearing the intro to "Dirty Water?"

I know ever since the Red Sox started making more appearances in the post-season, and especially after 2004, Red Sox Nation has grown exponentially. I know that if Boston goes another few years without a championship we will also say goodbye to those citizens. But I, like so many others, have been there for the hurt. The pain of Aaron F'ing Boone breaking hearts, the painful trails of tears left on our cheeks as we watched dreams of "The Curse" being broken follow that ball out of the park. The pain of having to watch the Yankees celebrate and the whispers of "86." New fans got a taste of it this season as we watched our boys go down against the Angels, a team that hadn't really been more that a small speed bump in our quest for that Fall class in recent years. But something that I really came to understand this season was that I would rather feel that sick to my stomach after a hard loss feeling that comes with the roller coaster ride that is baseball season everyday as a Red Sox fan for the rest of my life than to feel that elation that comes with a World Championship as anything else.

So my name is Analycia, I am a Texan, I love Texas, but damn it I am a member of Red Sox Nation and I will never change that. I want to pass it on to my children and my grandchildren. I want them to know the joy that comes from being a Red Sox fan but I want them to understand the pain that can come from it too. I want to be buried in my Red Sox jersey. I want "Dirty Water" to be played at my funeral.


I am going to be with this team until the day I die, and even after.