Diary of a Boston Sports Fan

It's hard being a sports fan in Boston.

This has been the mantra for Beantown sports for generations. Scores of fathers and sons, tied indelibly by the knots in their collective stomachs caused by the annual futility of their local clubs, have handed down their angst, anguish, and "there's always next year" mantra like a hereditary badge of honor. School children got their secondary education in humility in the Fenway bleachers and bum-numbing concrete of Foxboro Stadium.

It wasn't that long ago that the Patriots were one of the most dysfunctional franchises in sports. Led by an inept ownership and playing in a dilapidated stadium, the franchise's first three decade in existence had very few bright spots, reaching its nadir in 1-15 and 2-14 seasons in '91 and '92. We were the Kansas City Royals of football. The team was rumored to be moving to St. Louis and, later, to Hartford.

The Red Sox ineptitude has been well-chronicled -the sale of the Bambino, the Boston Massacre and Bucky (Bleepin') Dent, Buckner, Clemens, Game 7 in '03 and Aaron (Bleepin') Boone.

Even the Boston Celtics - one of the crown jewels of professional basketball, and a dominating team for most of the preceding 40 years - went into a free fall in the 90s after Larry Bird's retirement and Reggie Lewis' untimely collapse during a summer shoot-around. The once proud franchise quickly became a punchline. (See then-coach Rick Pitino's classic post-game press conference about the state of Celtics basketball.)

But now here we are... It's 2007 and Boston has become one of the most successful sports towns in America. The Red Sox have won 2 of the last four World Series Titles. The Patriots are steamrolling their way to their 4th title in 6 years. The Celtics will go into the new year with the best record in the NBA. It feels like 1986 all over again, except this time we aren't the scrappy underdogs trying to shock the world. We're bona fide favorites in every venue in the city, from the Garden to Fenway to the state-of-the-art stadium down on Route 1. Grade schoolers know nothing about the suffering of their forefathers, save for the tiresome anecdotes told against the ironic backdrop of another Boston-led beatdown. That was then, Grandpa... go back to your oatmeal.

Yes, our time has arrived. No longer do old men have to stare longingly at the retired numbers of Yaz, Pudge and Teddy Ballgame in right field and wonder what might have been. Retro "Pat the Patriot" emblems can be found displayed proudly on headgear and bumpers all over New England. Celtics games at the "new" Garden feel like the days of the "old" Big Three again - raucous crowds cheering with abandon, unencumbered by the feeling of imminent defeat. Larry Bird's not walking through that door... and for the first time in a long time that's ok! We've finally shed the reputation as loveable losers and can be embraced by the populace and respected for our on-field pursuits.

Except now everyone hates us.

Red Sox fans (and their self-pronounced "nation'), formerly referred to as "knowledgeable sports fans", are obnoxious. The Celtics have bought their way back to relevancy. The Patriots are cheaters who run up the score. We've become the Cowboys, the UCLA Bruins, the Lakers, even (gasp!) the Yankees. When it comes to sports, everyone loves a loser. Nobody likes to get beaten to a pulp.

And so after generations of getting beat up on the field of play, our fathers and grandfathers cannot even enjoy their time in the sun. Instead, we get beat up in the newspapers, on sports talk radio, and in every sports bar and pool hall south or west of Hartford. Blame overexposure (believe me... we're as tired of seeing the Red Sox on Fox's Saturday game of the week as you are!). Blame envy. Blame Boston sports columnist Dan Shaughnessy (creator of "The Curse of the Bambino").

Me? I blame the 20th century and the decades of Boston sports futility it wrought upon the hardworking folks of this region who only wanted to root for teams they could be proud of. Now that we finally have them, and in shedding the emotional baggage that comes with losing in heart wrenching fashion - not just year after year, but generation after generation - maybe we've gone a little overboard. Like a species that has evolved over time to respond to its environment and is then all of a sudden thrust back into its original habitat, we're a little shocked but we're adjusting. Give us some time.

After all, its not easy being a sports fan in Boston.