When my dad was a kid the Red Sox would win on the days that my grandmother did her ironing while they listened to the game. One afternoon they were heading out to the game like they often did (just hop on the train and 45 minutes later you're there) they begged my grandmother to just bring her iron for good luck. He and his siblings were relentless, begging and pleading until my grandfather yelled "ENOUGH! She's not bringing the iron and that's final!" He then picked up the ironing board, put it under his arm and told the kids to hurry up so they wouldn't miss the train.
Baseball, the love of the Red Sox, it's in my blood. At 16 years old my dad couldn't believe I had never been to Fenway, he asked how it was possible. I wasn't trying to be a jerk when I said "well, you've never taken me." The next week he managed to carve out a Friday night in his 60 hour work week, found us amazing tickets on his almost nonexistant budget, got lost in Boston (as always) and then he was there to see my face the very first time I saw Fenway Park.
Baseball, it is a lifeline for me to him in heaven. I've seen three of these World Championships for Boston, he didn't get any. It's not fair but I hope he knows his love of baseball lives on in me.
This is why I love sports.
♥ - Amber
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