About a month ago, one of our editors — a certain Mr. Carson Cistulli — had me as a guest on FanGraphs Audio. He asked me questions mostly related to my life, devoting only a small portion of the hour to topics surrounding the subject (baseball) of the site for which we write. One of those questions, however, was about my fandom, and the sort of labyrinthian route to where it currently finds itself.
For those of you who didn’t catch that audio segment, I’m an ex-lifelong Red Sox fan. I know how ridiculous that sounds. I was born in Boston, spent large amounts of my childhood there, went to Fenway multiple times a year: the whole deal. In middle school Spanish class in the Virginia town I spent my adolescence in, everyone had to choose a new name to be called. I chose Nomar. The 2004 season provided an emotional return unlike anything I had experienced in my life up until that point.
But, after 2007, I slowly realized that the identity in which I had gotten so wrapped up with the Red Sox — an identity centered around loss, being out-resourced and outspent, and searching for the subtle catharsis in small moments — was gone. The team had moved on from that identity to one I wasn’t comfortable with anymore, and so I moved on from them. I moved to Oakland in 2011, spent one strange year watching Red Sox games while I guiltily rooted for the A’s, then bought season tickets.
The A’s went 68-94 this year after crashing out of the playoffs in spectacular fashion the past three seasons, and I can honestly say that they have been everything I’d hoped they’d be. Winning, in my damaged opinion, should be an exception, not a rule.
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