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There was a time when I was a big Red Sox fan. I was living in Boston with the rest of the world along Comm. Ave., went to sports bars to watch games on a regular basis, and attended two or three games each season. I could walk into Star Market and pick up a conversation with the bagger about last night's win. On game days, the T was filled with red and white jerseys. Kenmore Square was one huge party. Even as a child growing up in the suburbs, the team was a part of life. Heck, I even had my foot nearly run over by 'Oil Can' Boyd one year trying to get his autograph outside Fenway Park. It's nearly impossible not to love the Red Sox.Then, ab
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