My family have been Red Sox fans since 1919. That year my six year-old grandfather saw Babe Ruth play for the Red Sox in a game against the White Sox at the old Comiskey Park. Later that year Babe Ruth was traded to the Yankees, cementing my family’s long standing antipathy for the team. Grandpa always blamed the Yankees for stealing Babe Ruth away.
The real details of why Babe Ruth was traded to the Yankees had more to do with Ruth’s demands for a raise than thievery on the part of the Yankees. The Red Sox were unwilling to double his pay and the Yankees offered cash. The Red Sox made the trade and got quite a bit of money to give him up.
I never discussed this with my grandfather prior to his death last year. I didn’t want to screw with my family’s mythology. It doesn’t matter how it happened but that year we became Red Sox fans. As far as I’m concerned, we always will be. I will always be thankful that my grandfather lived long enough to see us win in 2004 and win again in 2007. And I’m listening to the game right now. We’re winning. (This was written before our spectacularly sad losing streak at the end of the season. Truly and ridiculously spectacular.)
I have to say that what I find even more amazing than the fact that my grandfather saw Babe Ruth is the fact that he saw the 1919 White Sox. That was the the year of the “Black Sox” scandal where the World Series was fixed. The White Sox threw the series and the Cincinnati Reds won. The eight players accused of taking bribes were banned from baseball for the rest of their lives. My grandfather saw those men play that summer. He saw “Shoeless” Joe Jackson run. How fucking cool is that?
