BY MATTHEW DRAPER

In print | Published November 4, 2004

Approximately five days ago, the Boston Red Sox won the World Series…

Say what?

Approximate…

No, I heard you the first time and I still don’t believe you.

Well, believe it or not, after a virtual millennium of anticipation, the Boston Red Sox are finally the World Champions of Baseball. It’s been 86 years since Boston fans last got to celebrate a victory, and now they’re so excited you can still hear ’em partying all the way down in Philadelphia.

But that’s just the thing – you can’t. I admit I’m not in Boston right now, but from what I hear, the city didn’t burn down as so many said it would. They had what must’ve been an exciting victory parade last Saturday, but after that, life just went on. Even worse, now that it’s all over, nothing much has changed, except for the writing on the T-shirts. Boston did not suffer from an influx of new jobs, perfect schools, Coke in their water fountains, or brown paper packages tied up with string. So what was so special about this World Series? Why have the residents of Boston waited 86 years for this, enduring heartbreak and agony as they invested so much in their teams, only to watch them come up short time and time again? Was it really worth all the pain? What did they get out of waiting? Well, in the midst of an election where the outcome of the “game” actually has consequences for the real world, I would like to remind everyone why we watch sports in the first place, and why so many more Americans scream at their TVs because of their sports teams than because of politicians.

So what does it mean to be a sports fan? Some would claim it means that you have at least three blades, spin rapidly when plugged into an electric socket, and are used for some sporting purpose. As fans of such large enterprises as the NCAA, the NBA, the MLB, the NFL, and the No Hockey League (not that I’m bitter or anything) would tell you, however, it means you are part of a history, a tradition and a folklore, and that you subscribe to it because the stories it tells are truer to your identity than anything we see from our world leaders.

Unlike the two political parties you can choose to support or ignore, the sports teams you cheer for inevitably say more about who you are. Can you imagine anyone, for instance, identifying with a political party that has lost for 86 years in a row? Well, some people probably have done such a thing, but we think of them as ludicrous, dreamers who can’t come to grip with the realities of life. If you’re a fan of the Red Sox, however, you’re a cult hero, a tragic figure who has, through your parents and/or grandparents, experienced an incredible legacy of tragic losses and historic blunders.

Red Sox fans do not cheer for their team just because they hope they’ll win. No one would have cheered for the Red Sox for this long if they did not in some way get something out of the hope and promise brought by each new success, and if they did not also get something from enduring the pain and agony that only they can understand. When the Red Sox won, they scored a victory for every little guy in the United States, every kid who has ever lost 86 games in a row (and has kept insisting he can win the next one), everyone who thought that the rich and powerful always win. The Red Sox even scored a victory for the Democrats, reminding us that the rich, overpaid juggernaut that claims to (and sort of) represents the common people can sometimes beat the rich, overpaid juggernaut that represents the interests of all the privileged members of this country.

Pro sports may be, in many ways, ridiculous, and perhaps we could all spend our Sundays doing more edifying things than watching strangers toss a pigskin around, but we don’t just watch so that we can see our team win and then gloat about it (except for Yankees fans). Sports fanship is a process, not a result, and we pour all of our attention into it because of the stories, stories we will take with us to our death bed while all the gummy promises of politicians go slip-sliding away. Sports are for so many a great hope, because unlike the stories we see unfold in our daily lives, the impossible really can happen. The Boston Red Sox can win the World Series.

Matt Draper is a senior. You can reach him at mdraper1@swarthmore.edu.

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