The Lie: We root for the Red Sox because it’s the honorable thing to do.

The Truth: We root for the Red Sox because it’s the convenient thing to do. A decade ago, rooting for the Sox was still a truly admirable pursuit, but things changed after that first championship: the “loveable loser” moniker was gone forever, and with it went the specific brand of honor previously ascribed to Boston fans for their near-century of hardship and disappointment. Once the second championship was sealed up, it began to feel as though being a Sox fan had become the moral equivalent of being an Imperial Stormtrooper. (Or worse: a Yankees fan.)

We always want better for our children than what we had, but I truly wish my kids could’ve grown up in an age in which the Sox still had a bad year as often as they had a good one – when they were still tragic heroes, not swaggering bruisers. Olivia was only eight months old when Boston finished off the Cardinals to lock down their first World Series in eighty-six years. I can only hope that the energy that was permeating the city – and our home – at that time will forever be lodged somewhere deep in her core. Maybe then, in some small, ethereal way, she’ll be able to feel the pure, visceral honor of being an old-school Sox fan.