Welcome to another installment of "In the Name of Glove." For past articles from this column and others, check out the archives. This column is dedicated to those that feel their allegiance and their strength to our beloved Red Sox waver after another disheartening loss to the Yankees this past Fall. Keep strong and keep your faith, we will prevail eventually and just imagine the party that will ensue!

Growing up a Red Sox fan is something special, something not to be taken lightly. The influence of the Red Sox over a young boy or girl is uncanny when compared to any other team. The Red Sox are not just a team you root for. They're not just a team you watch. The Bean Town Boys of Summer are a way of life for those of us that grew up as citizens of Red Sox Nation.

This strange yet glorious upbringing starts with the sports icon, Fenway Park. Let's face it, they don't build baseball parks the way they used to. Ballparks built in the first half of the century were something to behold. Each was unique from Ebbett's Field to Yankee Stadium (unique, but still butt ugly) to Wrigley Field to our beloved Fenway Park. Each park had it's own special features. Tiger stadium's second and third decks that were as close to the field as the first level will always be one of my favorites. But nothing will ever match the uniqueness found surrounding that little patch of clay and grass in the heart of the Fen. Whoever designed Fenway Park was a lunatic and genius at the same time. The triangle in center, the 38-foot wall in left and the corner in right that spits out baseballs like a pinball machine on unsuspecting visiting outfielders are unmatched in character.

No one in their right mind would build any of theses features into a ballpark today, which just shows the severe drop in the quality of architects today because they are "too quirky." The past 4 decades have produced stale and depressing stadiums such as the Astro Dome, the King Dome, Veterans Stadium (where knee cartilage and ligaments go to die) and the old Memorial Park in Baltimore. Memorial's replacement, Oriole Park at Camden Yards, is one of my all time favorite ballparks and has led a revolution in stadium building. On the way out are the Astro Turf and concrete parks. Camden Yards has brought back the vibrant color of red brick contrasted by the intense green grass on the inside, long time staples of ball parks built in the first half of the century (what the hell happened at Yankee Stadium?). However, Camden Yards has been beaten down by impersonators. All of the Jacob's Fields, Ball Parks at Arlington and revamped Busch Stadiums look alike theses days, leaving almost no sense of originality or uniqueness to the city.

Growing up going to Fenway is the type of experience that only Chicagoland natives can now share because only Wrigley Field has that same old world feeling when you pass through the turnstyles. Never will you see seats jut out from third base foul ground to one foot off the left field foul line. Will any team ever build a stadium with outfield seats right at field level and a wall that is not even four feet high like you find in Fenway's right field corner? Doubtful, even though Baseball Weekly calls them two of the top five places to sit in any ball park. Even with all the new-fangled technology, the roomier seats and bigger bathrooms, nothing can replace the feel of an old-time ballpark. There's something about the history that hits you when you walk through the tunnel and into the daylight of the stadium. When I was 8 years old and went to my first game at Fenway Park, I wasn't old enough to understand the legends of Williams, Yastremski and Conigliaro or the Curse of the Babe, but I knew the stadium in which I was sitting was something special. Fenway was the start of my life as Red Sox fan.

Beyond the ballpark, citizens of Red Sox Nation share something else in common. The Curse. I hate to bring it up, but it's true. The Curse of the Bambino has created local lore and fan tradition that is unmatched. What other team routinely places baseball bats in the form of a cross on the field or it's manager carries around a candy bar for a year to ward off the evil spirits of the worst trade in the history of sports? The fact is, we are a cursed people. We have lost the World Series in every way imaginable, been beaten down by the 5'6" Bucky Dent, and we were tortured through a 14 games post season winless streak. The Red Sox have a great history of winning, but also a history of not winning enough. And to make it worse, we play our home games not more than three hours from the home of the dreaded Yankees, arguably the winningest franchise in all of sports, let alone baseball (see my previous column for a response to the previous statement).

But through all of the heartache, we the citizens have weathered. Why? I'm not entirely sure. There's something every Spring that infects us with this feeling of hope renewed that makes us push forward and become even stronger, more dedicated fans. But the fact is, we are here and as long as the this great game we call baseball exists, Red Sox fans will forever be here, even if another World Series win is asking too much. The routine teasing that is replaced by constant defeat at the end of each season fails to break us. It makes us come together. When I see someone on the street wearing a Red Sox cap I know that person has heart, he is my kind of people, he knows my pain. Can you say this of any other team? Think about the Yankees. They win at all costs, throw money and people around as if they mean nothing and collect World Series rings as if they came out of a Cracker Jack box. What kind of fans do these produce outside the city limits of New York? They produce bandwagon fans that will mysteriously lose their blue and white caps when their first losing season comes around. These are not the type of people we associate with. We are brought up with stronger moral fiber, regardless of the where we live. We are more loyal than the family dog we refused to let the wife neuter, more enthusiastic than a kid on Christmas morning, and more savvy than any battery throwing goon you find in most stadiums. We taunt and cheer with style, class and intelligence unparalleled in sports (hint, hint: topic of future column).

We love our Red Sox and the fabled Fenway Park. Fenway as we know it will be gone soon but it will live on in our hearts and memories as we recount to our children, and their children and their children and so forth, the history and the legend we have witnessed at Fenway Park.

Citizens of Red Sox Nation, we are a unique people, a strong people, a people that has been changed for ever because of our love for the Red Sox. And I will tell you first hand, that that change is one for the better. A life without the Red Sox in your heart and soul is a life that will never be complete.

patdaddy@prodigy.net