About This Site
FenwayFanatics.com was born out of the mind of one diehard Boston Red Sox fan shortly after he watched his team blow a late-inning lead in Game Seven of the 2003 American League Championship series, eventually losing the pennant to the New York Yankees. The site not only provides you with some of the latest news and developments on and off the baseball diamond, it also provides information about the team, both past and present, as well as commentary about the state of the organization as well as the world of baseball from the perspective of an everyday fan.
About The Author
The first thing you should know is that, after my son was born in 2003, my wife and I gave him the middle name of Champion. It's actually a family name, but perhaps it was in part because I thought that he might be a lucky charm for my favorite sports team. My friends and colleagues, upon reading the birth announcement, realized immediately that I was too obsessed with the Red Sox; to this day, they still refer to him as "Champ" and I smile every time they do.
I made my first visit to Fenway Park at the tender age of eight with my father and several teammates from my Little League squad in 1982. Boston was hosting the Milwaukee Brewers that day and lost a barnburner, 11-10. Among the players on the field that day for the Red Sox were Jerry Remy, Dwight Evans, Jim Rice, Carl Yastrzemski, Dave Stapleton, Rich Gedman, Wade Boggs, and Bob Stanley. For Milwaukee, Paul Molitor and Robin Yount batted first and second, respectively, in the lineup while some guy named Rollie Fingers pitched the last few innings for the Brewers to earn the win. However, at that age, I was honestly more interested in securing some popcorn and a pennant to hang in my room at home.
Four years later, I watched Roger Clemens strike out 20 batters in late April, then followed the Red Sox as they took first place in the East in May and never surrendered that position for the rest of the season; from that point forward, I was hooked. Unfortunately, the season ended with bitter disappointment, a taste that my father, and perhaps my grandfathers, had put up with for years before me, and it wouldn't disappear for several more years. I witnessed the loss of 13 straight post-season games. I had front-row seats to humbling championship series losses in 1999 and 2003. I cringed at the thought of another opportunity lost when Boston fell behind, three games to none, in the 2004 ALCS.
At the age of 32, I can now say with pride that I have seen Boston win a World Series in my lifetime, something that the pundits believed would never happen. No longer will I have to hear chants of "1918!" or the loud whispers of a curse. Despite all this, had what transpired over the course of eleven days in October 2004 that brought Red Sox fans to the pinnacle of a Major League Baseball season never happened, I would continue to carry the torch for my team, never wavering in my undying loyalty. When I die, I hope that they bury me with my David Ortiz jersey, my 1986 team picture from the Boston Globe, and my tickets to Game Four of the 2004 ALCS and Game One of the 2004 World Series. At the very least, I know that I'll die happy.
