This week, I read that a construction worker attempted to curse the new Yankees stadium by burying a David Ortiz jersey in some freshly poured concrete. I thought to myself, really? And then I realized, of course some crazy Red Sox fan did this.
Now, hold on. Don’t indict me for hating America’s favorite pastime. This Red Sox loathing has nothing to do with baseball hate. And no, I do not hail from the land of the Yankees. Why then, you ask, do I find my college town’s team insufferable?
Well, that really gets to the root of the problem—just because I go to school in Boston does NOT mean I should subscribe to this outrageous fanfare. Suddenly, my Cleveland ears can’t listen to “Sweet Caroline,” as I don’t don a Red Sox hat. Not only does Boston have a monopoly over Neil Diamond, but the fans can also be outright scary. After the victory over the pitiable Rockies this past fall, one would think that primal scream had come early.
Plus, Boston fans need to stop playing the underdog card. What do the Patriots do all the time? Win. The Celtics? Likewise. The Red Sox are no different. After two World Series titles in the past four years, here’s a newsflash Boston fans: we don’t care. Even Fox chose to air NASCAR over the Red Sox-Yankees match-up last weekend.
Basically, this whole Red Sox business is neither tolerable nor sane. When the administration finds a bulldog with a Yale bandana tied around its neck buried under a building on the new Allston campus, hopefully you Bostonians will understand.
