After I moved to Boston in 1980, it was solely pure that I grew to become a Crimson Sox fan, decided to destroy the New York Yankees.
In spite of everything, competitors had at all times coursed by our household’s blood. My mom was tennis champion of the Ohio Valley and I trooped to Crosley Discipline with my father to see Ted Kluszewski hit a grand slam for the Cincinnati Reds.
A World Sequence underneath our belts, we had been cocky after 2004. Pals and I cheered wildly at Fenway in 2006, at one of many 5 now-famous August video games with the Yankees. We had been positive we had been on the best way to a different championship. However as New York pitchers blew us away in what grew to become referred to as “Boston Bloodbath II,” I sat in field seats with dejection as thick as pine tar. We misplaced all 5 video games. Our playoff desires had been dashed.
However baseball hope springs everlasting. A month later, from the grandstand, I roared as David Ortiz smacked dwelling run quantity 51, and astonishingly within the seventh inning, quantity 52. It was a recreation in opposition to his former staff, the Minnesota Twins, and nonetheless, the group yelled “Yankees Suck.”
Nonetheless, no quantity of “Yankees Suck” chants may inch us nearer to our rivals. We ended 11 video games again.
This 12 months, six months after I completed chemo, decided to chase away most cancers with medication, train and pleasure, I handled myself to a Crimson Sox-Yankees recreation. I went solo, respiratory within the therapeutic air, grateful to eat a heat pretzel and sit excessive above the crowds, as blissful as I’d felt in months to be close to my beloved Sox.
Within the eighth inning, I moved to the great seats. A row of blue behind dwelling plate however the aisle seat was empty.
“Is that seat taken?” I had on my purple “Boston” sweatshirt.
“That’s my son’s seat.” A four-year-old in pinstripes sat on his lap. “However positive, you possibly can take it.”
I smiled. “Thanks,” I stated. Whoa, I assumed.
“That’s so candy of you,” I continued. “And also you too,” I stated to the infant, who I now observed wore Yankees sneakers, had a blue cap in his lap and eyes wanting the world to at all times be a baseball recreation.
The boy regarded up at me, nestled in his dad’s arms. It was arduous not to think about elements of the world the place youngsters would actually die to be this near their dads, the place they’re dying day-after-day. And but, right here we had been, high of the eighth; the Yankees up 4-2.
The boy beamed at me. His grandpa, somebody I figured round my age, got here from behind the railing to take the boy’s image. That youngster had no thought I used to be his household’s chief rival.
They talked about coming to Fenway 12 months after 12 months. I stated that I’d been afraid to go to a stadium with New York fanatics. “Yeah, they are often tough,” stated Grandpa.
I’m speaking to a Yankees fan? I stated to myself.
We hardly had time to talk. Jarren Duran homered and I used to be on my ft. We’d come again 3-4. After which, in what felt like moments, the dreaded Aaron Decide managed to attain they usually had one other run. They had been 5-3.
“I’ve to confess Decide is an effective participant,” I coughed up.
“He’s like David Ortiz,” the dad stated. His father was nodding.
I stated one thing insipid like “I suppose in a world the place everybody’s preventing, it appears a bit of insane to struggle, even in the event you’re profitable.” They stated they felt precisely the identical manner, that row of blue.
Grandpa took a photograph of me in my purple sweatshirt, his blue cap on my head — if just for an immediate.
It was clear that none of us would change our allegiance. However possibly these are the type of rivalries that we must always have relatively than those that we do have.
I left earlier than the final pitch.
Jean Trounstine of Tewksbury is writer of the books ”Shakespeare Behind Bars” and “Boy With a Knife,” professor emerita at Middlesex Neighborhood Faculty in Lowell, and a social justice activist. Her eighth guide and first novel, “Sounds Like Bother to Me” will likely be printed by Operating Wild Press in Might 2026.
