A silenced awe fell over the crowd as the ball sailed higher and higher toward the seats. Would it reach me in the upper deck? Would it fall short and end up a fly ball? No, it landed in the grandstand, a level below me. A homerun, hit by Aaron Boone, ended the closest taste of glory I had ever known as a Sox fan.
I was a 16-year-old high school junior at the time, a Red Sox fan since birth and by blood. As a spur of the moment surprise, my dad bought tickets for Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS. I was thinking about going to school in New York, so after days of begging while the series reached fever pitch, he agreed to take me to the game. He figured it would give me my first glimpse of Yankee Kingdom and its insufferable fans.
At one point midgame he said, “Syd, we could have a whole subway car to ourselves on the ride back to the parking garage.” Thanks for the jinx Dad, I nervously fumed to myself. Sure enough, Petey stayed in and our lead shrank. Afterwards, the Yankee fans around us erupted, and the few other Nation members sitting near us were silenced too. It was the first time I really understood the gravity of the 85 years, but it was not the last.
For Christmas that year, I gave my dad a scrapbook of the season I had labored over since July. It had everything – pictures, clippings from the Globe, even that illustration of Theo and Steinbrenner combating Star Wars style. It was bittersweet that the last page held our two ticket stubs from the game in New York, but no “FINALLY” headline. My dad quietly turned through the pages, and then said, “I have something to show you.” He went upstairs and brought down an old photo album, the cardboard binding peeking out from the frayed fabric cover. I flipped it open, and a picture with the caption “YAZ!” greeted me. It was my dad’s very own scrapbook from 1967 (when he was almost the same age as me), the summer of the Impossible Dream. The scrapbook’s uncanny existence – and timely revelation – confirmed what I had long suspected: the Red Sox were in my blood and I was in it for the long haul.
The following year I decided to attend New York University, in the heart of Yankee territory. The drama of 2003 and 2004 taught me that no matter where I chose to go, I had support and faith from being a Red Sox fan and a Bostonian. Some people in my family haven’t graduated college, so going to a rigorous liberal arts school away from home – in Yankee country, no less – became my own (Im)Possible Dream.
I should be the Red Sox Intern because I bring that level of dedication and passion to every aspect of my life. I am a history and broadcast journalism major with a Pre-law concentration, and have consistently attained a high GPA and Dean’s List status. I am diplomatic and have great people skills, honed by delivering clever retorts to disparaging Yankees fans who see me in Red Sox gear. Being a fish in a sea of sharks has helped me become more outgoing and confident, a boon in my journalism assignments. I have also studied abroad in Europe twice, in Prague and Berlin, bringing my Nation citizenship and dedication with me. As I mentioned in my accompanying video, I frequently stayed up until early morning to “watch” the games on my computer and read the live feeds on boston.com. It was a sometimes weary – but always worth it – habit.
Some of my friends, from Boston and New York alike, ask me why I chose to go to school so far from my beloved Red Sox and Fenway. I think the distance has given me perspective and helped me stay an even stronger fan; I appreciate our successes and losses that much more. I have to work twice as hard as fans in Boston to find a live broadcast, a Sox-friendly bar, or read recaps. I am representing Red Sox Nation as a knowledgeable, passionate fan who can hold her own against Yankees fans, helping to dispel the notion that Boston fans are only rude and rowdy. I will bring this same class and maturity as the Red Sox Intern.
To work for the Red Sox is my dream job. The organization strives for the very same ideals I uphold: dedication, passion, compassion for the community I live in, and a responsibility for the environment. I will bring all of these qualities and my experiences to the Red Sox internship.