I can relate to the recent post on Lox et Veritas about how sports is a religion for many people. I say this because I can see Fenway Park from my dorm room, and as I sit typing, there are swarms of fans flooding Beacon Street outside my window, cheering and running and shouting expletives. I just saw my friend Larry out there banging on a cowbell. My roommate and I didn’t even have to ask anyone or turn on the TV or check online to see if the Red Sox won – we could hear it. The Red Sox are going to the World Series and the people of Boston are in a religious ecstasy.
Of course all season we’ve heard fans walking past our apartment on their way home from the game at ungodly hours. One particularly charming incident was on the first night of Rosh Hashannah, when I lay in bed, tossing and turning to drunken screams of “Go Red Sox!” and, oddly, “Konichiwa!” outside. Their religious event and mine coincided. But now this is the culmination of the Red Sox fans’ pure and unwavering devotion. I don’t know a lot about baseball, but I do know that starting Wednesday night, I should probably not plan on going to bed early.