Have you ever known a Yankee fan with real character? George Will

David at OxBlog makes a pilgrimage to the Fenway bleachers:

Alas, I am a Yankee fan. Still, I was rooting for the Red Sox. In part, because they deserve so much pity. But more importantly, because the people of Boston have truly made baseball worthy of its designation as America's pastime.

Sheila A-Stray writes the post brought tears of nostalgia to her eyes:

Which is ridiculous when you think about it. It's not like I'm huddled in a yurt on the Mongolian steppe, dreaming of the Citgo sign and Long Wharf. I live in New York City. 4 hours away from Boston.

Oh well. I'm Irish. We love nostalgia.

Father-to-be Steve of the Llama Butchers weighs in on the lyric little bandbox in the Fens:

The whole "Yankees Suck!" culture that pervades the place: I hate to say it, but the Red Sox nation are perilously in danger of becoming the French of American professional sports: haughty, arrogant, tied to an antiquated facility, not having won since 1815, and continually beaten upon by their ancient and mortal enemies. I'm not going so far as to draw a Rudy Guliani/Winston Churchill parallel here, nor am I saying that Nomar and deGaulle would have been buds, but I mean it's gotten far out of hand.

I love Fenway---but to me it's the Fenway of Yaz and Fisk, Lynn and Rice, the Fenway where you could have an aging Johnny Pesky standing behind you in the concession line, not the place that it has become.

The surly attitude remarked upon in the Hub of the Universe toward the New York American League Baseball Club is captured in these t-shirts that dispense with New England reserve on the question of where the Pinstripes can put their 26 rings. (No doubt our own Steve M. is getting out his credit card as we speak!)