Confessions of a closet Red Sox fan

--- IMHO-NH

I was looking for a tax abatements workshop meeting at the community center. I took one of the empty seats in Room 201 as a gaunt, middle-aged man walked up to the lectern. When he stared speaking, I realized I was in the wrong meeting.

"Hi. My name is Jeff (not his real name), and I'm a Red Sox fan." The rest of the attendees showed their approval with soft applause. "I have been living a double life," the gaunt man continued, "hiding the truth from my friends and family."

He stopped to suppress a tremble in his voice. I decided that this meeting sounded a ton more interesting than any tax abatement workshop. Slyly, I switched on the voice recorder in my jacket pocket, leaned back and put on my best "you poor thing" face.

"Everyone thinks I'm this 'okay' guy...not all obsessed with sports like all other guys." His head dropped as if he could no longer bear eye contact. "But I'm not okay. I had no idea I was a LBF (later explained to me as a Latent Baseball Fan). No idea! I grew up in a state with no baseball pride. No one ever talked about it."

"My wife boasts that I'm not like her friends' husbands. My kids think it's cool to have a dad with time give horsey rides. All that changed when we moved to New England a few years ago."

"The truth of my...condition, started to show up in the late summer of 2004. I caught myself listening to my co-workers talk about the Sox at the water cooler. At first, I could walk away. But then the Sox made it to the playoffs. Would they make it? I was curious. My slide into ruin had begun."

"I pretended to make photo copies just so I could stand near the water cooler longer. My will power totally crumbled when the Sox were so far behind in the championships that they were almost out of it. Would the next game eliminate them -- again? Was this curse thing real? I had to know. I was hooked."

"The night of Game 4, I told my wife that I needed some batteries. Truth was, I snuck off to Wal-Mart and watched that fateful comeback game in their TV department. They came back to win it in the 9th! They were still alive! In my dancing around, I knocked over a big display of video tapes. It was embarrassing, but it did give me a plausible excuse to tell my wife for why it took me three hours to buy a pack of double-As. That was close. I knew I had to be much more careful."

"I thought that after the Sox won the Series, and the curse broken, that my...problem...would be over. I wouldn't care anymore. I figured I could quit then. I was wrong. I followed the Sox in their 2005 season too. I used to throw away the Sports Section. Now I would leave it lying on the table awhile so I could steal glances at the Sox stories. I would listen to Red Sox radio in car on the way home from work, but change the station back as I got home. I was determined that no one knew."

"My wife would be angry. My kids would be disappointed. My boss, a Yankees fan, would give me all the stinker projects. My career would be ruined. I had to live a lie. Don't you see? I had to!"

"During the '05 playoffs, I would pretend to bring work home to do on the computer. Under the spreadsheet I had an ESPN web page. I was forever glancing over my shoulder. I even put a Victoria's Secret website up to hide the ESPN, so if my wife caught me quickly clicking back to the spreadsheet and wondered what I was up to, she could catch me in a more acceptable sin."

"I was reading everything I could about the Sox during the off season. I wanted to know what happened to Theo. Why didn't they sign Johnny? Would Curt ever be the hero he once was? I had to know. Yet, I continued to hide and pretend."

He shook his fists in rage. "I'm living a lie, I tell you!" Finally, he slumped, the picture of total despair. He spoke softly, as if only to himself. "Opening day is almost here. I don't know how much longer I can hide it. They'll discover my secret. I know they will. I'll be forced to sleep in the garage. My kids will wear paper bags on their heads. I'll be jobless, outcast." His voice trailed off to mutters.

One of the others gently led Jeff back to his seat. The rest of them circled around him, giving reassuring pats on his head and shoulders. I took that moment to slip out of the room.

Who would have known? He looked so normal.