Life wasn’t easy growing up as a Boston sports fan when I was younger. Things were more likely to go wrong than right and it was a part of the lore to end up crying at season’s end. Before 2001, when the Patriots won the first Boston championship of my lifetime, I was just another tired sports fan with little to no hope.
Everyone knows the stories. Despite some promising runs, I had relatives who were born and died without ever seeing a Red Sox World Series win. I heard stories from my father about seeing Larry Bird play at the original Boston Garden while I watched the likes of Antoine Walker struggle to even make the playoffs. My brother even had a portion of his wall dedicated to pictures of his favorite Patriots players under a little sign he made that said “Wall of Shame.”
Being a frustrated sports fan was all I knew, so when the Patriots started their stretch of three championships in four seasons, I didn’t know what to do with myself. When the Red Sox made the final out of the World Series in 2004, I cried, and when the Celtics won the championship in 2008, I smoked a victory cigar with my dad, just like he did in 1986 when they last won.
These moments in my life mean more to me than they should, considering they revolve around a series of games, but that doesn’t change them. Yet eight years on from that first championship that rocked Boston, being a Boston sports fan is difficult in a new way.
Fair-weather fans are expected any time a team meets some success. In Boston, every team seemed to come together and play well within the same span of years, brining the idea of the bandwagon to a whole new level. You see it at any game you go to now. At Fenway this past summer, I saw people sit in some of the best seats you can get texting throughout entire innings, never once looking up. But it is to be expected at this point.
What is new to me, and frustrating beyond belief, is being accused of being a fair-weather fan after living and dying with these teams since I was born. I wish I could say it wasn’t made harder by being a female sports fan, but the term “pink hats,” which has come to be synonymous with the bandwagon, says it all.
They are just sports to some, but to me and many others, they have come to be a part of our identities. It may seem extreme to compare my fandom to someone else’s morals or beliefs but it is who I am, and I know I am not alone in these thoughts. I was raised to know I am Irish, I am Catholic and I am a Boston sports fan. I don’t intend to let anyone doubt that.












