How I learned to stop worrying & love the Sox

Several healthcare professionals have warned that I'll have a heart-attack unless I seek help for my psychotic hatred of pro sports.

As such, since I work less than one block from Fenway Park, I decided that the only remedy is all-out assimilation. During the 2010 season I hit 43 home games, and have since been referring to the Sox as "we" and engaging in all sorts of other foreign rituals.

Stick with me through my struggle to become a Sox fan, as I force-chug hella beer to numb myself like strippers do before they hit the pole. This is no joke. This is for survival, and for my book, "How I Learned to Stop Worrying & Love the Sox," which drops in 2012.

-Chris Faraone

Contacts

Twitter @SoxMobster
Email: SoxMobster@gmail.com

Home Runs from the Archive

About This Project

The Sox Mobster's First Beef

I Was the Guy at the Family Function Watching Baseball

How Old is Too Old to Bring Your Glove to the Game?

Do the Yankees Still Suck?

An Example of When Fan Shit Gets out of Control

My First Game - and "We" Won

Baseball Fans Don't Vote

The Homeys

Boston Sports Then and Now

Fire Brand of the American League

Boston Sports Media Watch

Sports Girl Kat

Six States, One Blog

Sox Space News

I Blacked Out

The Boston Phoenix

Supah Fans

Dan Sullivan Sports Management

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