When I was a boy, I was a devoted Brooklyn Dodgers fan [the Giants seemed colorless, and the Yankees, in their pinstriped uniforms, struck me as businessmen.] Then the Dodgers decamped for the West Coast and my heart died a little. Even when I was living in Boston as a student and young Harvard Instructor, I could never get it on for the Red Sox [I had a prejudice against the American League], although I did once actually see Ted Williams in person. I was taking the Shore Line back to Boston from New York, and went to the club car for a soft drink [in those days, I did not even drink wine.] The car was totally empty, so I sat down at a table at one end, and then realized that the Splendid Splinter was sitting all alone at the other end. Needless to say, I did not disturb him.
Many years later, when I was living in Massachusetts, I became, faute de mieux, a New England Patriots fan, so I look forward to Sunday with anticipation. Susie's sons, growing up in Chapel Hill, are of course Tar Heels fans, and much to my surprise, Susie loves to watch college basketball [but not pro games, although the level of play is so much higher.]
I even became a Mets fan for my Columbia years, and it stuck with me for a while. Indeed, one of my happiest memories from my thirties is a sunny October 10th in 1973 when I sat in my lovely third floor pine paneled study in Northampton watching on a tiny tabletop TV set as the Mets beat the Reds in the fifth game of the playoffs to win the National League title, while the broadcast was interrupted by spot announcements of Spiro Agnew's resignation. It doesn't get any better than that.
As I think I have mentioned, my grandson, Samuel, is a rabid San Francisco Giants fan. Family takes precedence over tradition, so I go along, but a part of me wishes Patrick had decided to live in L, A.