One of my longtime traveling wishes is to visit all 30 baseball stadiums. If I counted driving or walking past as visiting, I'd be in semi-decent shape, but at present time, my wish is best filed under "Not in This Lifetime."
Of course, visiting every Major League ballpark does mean that I would have to enter Fenway Park. This is a daunting prospect, to say the least.
First, it's located in Boston, a city that I appreciate for its prettiness and historical presence (Fenway included), but that I don't entirely love.
Second, it's home to the Red Sox. And its fans.
I've tried explaining this notion to some people, but not everybody understands. There are some places that, when you visit, are instantaneously comfortable, despite possibly being new or unfamiliar. Boston is not one of those places.
In a blog post on The New Yorker's website today, Robert Mankoff sums it up well: "I don't feel right at home when I'm in Boston. I'm a Yankees fan..."
Bonus points for calling Red Sox fans "the infected." Well said, Mr. Mankoff.
To offset the fact that I devoted too much of this post to the Sox, I will end with this:
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