Foulweather Fans

When I was a young girl, in 1970s Berkeley, the Oakland A's were my team. They were an exciting and entertaining team (perhaps especially to a young fan, learning baseball), with their waxed mustaches and colorful players.

In 1975 they were swept in the ALCS by the Red Sox. I started watching the World Series that year rooting for the Cincinnati Reds. My older brother tried to reason with me. "If the Reds win, that means there are two teams better than the A's. If the Red Sox win, only one team is better." This 12-year-old wasn't interested in logic; revenge was ruling my heart.

But during the series, something changed. I suppose it was hearing the announcers recount the Red Sox hard luck story. Fenway's beauty and the exciting Game 6 surely helped sway me. I was sad when they lost, and not because it meant two teams were better than my A's. But I remained an A's fan.

In 1999 my family was living outside Boston for a year. We'd come from Portland, a city without any major league baseball. My three kids were 6, 10, and 12--and hadn't yet fallen for baseball, which saddened me. I needn't have worried--being in Boston that October took care of turning the kids into fans. For that I will always be glad.

And it gave me something as well. The A's hadn't been my team for a while, really. The Bash Brothers of the late 80's didn't do it for me, and I left the Bay Area around then anyhow. Call me a fair-weather fan, but the A's just didn't keep their hold on me. But being in Boston in 1999 brought back those stories I'd heard during the 1975 series. I was converted.

We weren't lucky enough to be in Fenway for any of the 1999 post-season games, but that didn't matter. We could see the blimps circling Fenway, and the excitement in the air was as palpable as the crisp New England fall. Kids and adults alike were moving through their daytime routines sluggishly, sleep-deprived from watching late games. All conversation began and ended with Sox talk. True, the season didn't end as we'd have liked, but it made us all fans.

The problem now, of course, is that people are starting to accuse the Red Sox of being as bad as the Yankees. A friend messaged me this morning on Facebook: "Sox, sox, sox. It's getting to be a dynasty - at least from a Cubs' fan perspective." I don't think he was being complimentary.

But I ask you. If we stood by the Sox during their heartbreaking collapses (and we weren't fans for long enough to have to go through too many of them), what kind of fans would we be for abandoning them when they're winning? Foulweather fans?