I grew up as a casual Yankee's fan - growing up on Long Island in NY made them the default team to root for, but I didn't really know much about baseball since my parents didn't follow the game. My mom said she liked the Dodgers since she remembered going to see them in Brooklyn when she was a child. My passion for baseball didn't start, however, until I moved to Boston after college in 1990. I told my then boyfriend, now husband, that I was going to root for both the Red Sox and the Yankees when he took me to my first baseball game at Fenway Park. It was (and still is) the biggest of rivalries and I was excited to see the two teams in action. He patiently explained to me that I couldn't root for both, I had to choose, and if I wanted to continue to date him, I'd better choose the Red Sox. I did choose the Red Sox (I really wanted to keep dating him) and am glad I did. I got to experience 14 years of "wait until next year", hearing tales of the "Curse of the Bambino", until finally it happened: history was made, Boston erupted in joy as the Red Sox not only came back from being down 3-0 against the Yankees to go to the World Series, they actually won. In celebrating with my husband and his family and all of our Massachusetts friends, I understood what it was like to truly love a team and feel both the pain and the love that comes with that commitment. I can't wait until our son is old enough to bring to his first Red Sox game at Fenway park and pass on the love of our team to a new generation.