By Charlie Danrick

My wonderful wife Iris and I raised a son and a daughter, now both in their 30s and many years gone from the “nest.”

Rick was born in Apr.1968 and we subcribed to cable in 1975 so obviously the kid was quite baseball conscious at age seven. But something went awry. We live in North Jersey and within not too great a distance lie Yankee and Shea Stadiums. So it would figure that the kid would favor at least one of the corrersponding clubs. No such thing-Cable dictated otherwise because one of the stations being piped down here was WSBK, Channel 38,the Red Sox flagship.And so nightly as I switched my tuner between the Mets and Yanks, Rick sat transfixed by his new found love-the Bosox. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I tried like heck to talk him out of it to no avail. He was hooked.

Alright, 1975 proved to be one whale of a year for HIS Bosox because they came this close to beating the Reds to become World’s Champs and who’ll ever forget the mother of all World Series games? Gm.6-Fisk’s extra inning “body english” homer that tied the series 6 all. The single greatest W.S. game ever played. Bar none but I must say that game 7-1960 W.S. was right up there too.

The years went by and where were his Bosox? Yankees in ’76; Yanks in ’77; Bucky “dented” his boys in ’78; the Orioles in ’79; the Royals in ’80 and the Yanks again in ’81. By this time I figured he had just about given up because the curse of the Bambino was all too present,year after year. But no such thing.Here the kid was at age 14, just as much enamored by his Fenway idols as he was as a tyke who watched them night after night. In fact I had to give him my older shortwave radio with good selectivity on the AM bands so he could tickle the knob to pick up his guys on WTIC, Hartford. The “disease” was growing worse. Good Lord…what to do?

It was early August 1982 when my wife and I were at a wedding of a rather distant relative’s when we met up with a long lost cousin Mark from Boston. It turned out that he was an architect on Temple Street in that city and a season ticket holder to Fenway. I began discussing the Bosox and how my son loved the team etc. and then an idea struck me? Why not top off Rick’s summer with a weekend at Fenway? So Mark sent down two tickets to the games on Friday night with “Harvey Wallbanger’s” Brewers in town plus ones for Sat. and Sunday P.M. When I told Rick we were going up to Boston at the end of the month he went beserk. Oh man..what traffic was up there-should have flown!

Here it was, Friday night. We went out early to a lobster house and got to Fenway just in time to sit and wait for the place to open. I remember sitting on those cold hard steps while watching Larry Bird being limousined in. He got out and the kids went wild. I looked at this 6’9″ blond monster who refused to stop signing autographs until every kid was happy. Honestly, I didn’t know the diff between Larry & Big Bird but no big deal-he made the kids happy.

The doors opened,tickets were presented and Rick and I walked over to one of the guards. I stuck a $20 bill in his hand,told him we were from the NYC area and my Bosox-loving son would treasure going over to the Bosox dugout to look at his heroes up close. The guard handed back the bill and said, “This isn’t New Yawk. Our team loves kids. Go right ahead son and maybe you’ll meet a few.”

I couldn’t believe it but it so happened on that night the Soxers weren’t in any mood to sign anything so Rick was content to look, savoring everything as if it were dessert to the meal we just had.

But then came Saturday afternoon. Once again we got to Fenway early and saw the same guard. He said to Rick, “Go to it, big guy.” Rick and I walked to the dugout as Tony Kubek was preparing his pre-game show. A friendlier guy you’ll never meet. Rick told him that he was North Jersey and how much he loved the Bosox etc. With that Tony yelled into the dugout, “Hey guys.We have a young man from New Jersey who came all this way to meet you. How about it?”

Out of the dugout came Ralph Houk to shake hands and ask my son about school.Following him was Rich Gedman who gave Rick a broken bat. “Yaz” stuck his head out to yell hello. Tony Armas walked by in some broken Spanish I asked if he’d sign an autograph for my son. He was glad to. Then Bruce Hurst popped out, took Rick around by the shoulder and said to me, “Hey pop, how about taking a snapshot of me and a future Red Sox player together?”

I was stunned. Rick was in shock. Never did we ever anticipate the wonderful congeniality encountered. What a class organization.

Oh by the way Rick, now age 34, lives in McLean, VA and mentioned a few nights ago that a few weeks ago he motored up to Camden Yards to see his Pedro pitch against the Birds. Do you think after 27 years his love for those Sox has waned a bit? Not a bit and the latest standings show the Bosox as having the best record in baseball and a 4.5 game lead over the Yanks who, with the acquisitions of Jason Giambi, David Wells and others, were a SHOO-IN for the 2002 East flag.

Rick’s reply? “The Curse of the Bambino” ends this year. Who knows? Maybe he’s right?