A Convert Speaks

I do not enter into this lightly. I understand how difficult it is for a forty-year-old to pick up new habits, especially when it concerns something that has been so fundamental over what I hope is not quite half-a-lifetime, that I was able to do it without thinking about it. That's the definition of a habit, of course, but it's also the hallmark of the blind faith approach that is at the heart of what being a fan is all about. And not just a fan of any team, but a fan of the New York Yankees, they of the 26 World Championships and the famous Yankee Stadium and the famous pinstripes and the famous deep pockets of their owner. In other words, a fan of the most successful and admired—and reviled—sports franchise in American history.

So I understand that the idea of changing who I root for will not be easy. Some might even say that it's impossible—and they may be right. But I'm going to give it a try. Over the course of the next year, I am going to root not for the New York Yankees, but for their most hated rival, the Boston Red Sox.

Notice the positive attitude there: not "I'm going to try," but "I'm going to root for" the Boston Red Sox. This blog will chronicle my attempts. I mean, it will chronicle my journey from Yankee confusion to Red Sox enlightenment.

Why, you are rightly asking, would anyone want to do such a thing? I am not doing this because I feel scorned or let down by the Yankees. I am doing this purely out of love and devotion to my children.

Being a parent means having to confront many of the items on that long list of things that you spent a lifetime saying you would never do. And I'm not even talking about those out-and-out gross tasks associated with diaper changing and toilet training. No, I mean the more theoretical aspects of being a parent, such as the firm declarations that my children will never watch television or drink soda.

Despite all of the compromise between belief and reality that seems to make up the bulk of parenting, one thing I thought I could count on was the fact that my sons would grow up being fans of the same sports teams that I root for. So imagine my horror when my older son began rooting loudly for the Red Sox. I knew that I had tempted the fates of fandom by moving my family from New Jersey to Massachusetts, but I'd always looked at fandom as one of those inalienable rights of parenthood. Like Thanksgiving traditions, big ears, and poor singing voices, it's something that's not just passed down, it simply can't be avoided.

At first I thought my older son's antics were just a phase. Then I thought it was just his way of teasing me, of sticking it to his old man. As he's become more aware of professional sports and spent more time with his classmates and fellow Red Sox fans, however, I'm beginning to see that this is no passing fancy. And he's surreptitiously worked to indoctrinate his younger brother, who told me recently, with pride, that he likes the Red Sox. "You," he said, his voice filled with more scorn than a four-year-old should be able to muster, "root for the Yankees."

So, in the spirit of the love that can only come with being a father, I've decided to make the biggest sacrifice since Abraham and Isaac and spend one year rooting for the Red Sox and document my experiences on this blog. In addition to exploring the experiences of fatherhood, I also hope to look at what it means to be a fan of a professional sports team today, when players are millionaires and don't seem to care for the average fan. I may also examine the question of how one becomes a fan these days, when most people interested in sports focus on "fantasy" leagues and not on teams. At the heart of the experiment, however, will be the experiences of a recovering Yankee fan trying to fit in in Massachusetts.