When it comes to the Red Sox, I’m day to day. When they win all is right with the world, a loss and I avoid SportsCenter for fear of seeing a highlight.

As most dedicated fans do, I go through this 162 times a year. It’s difficult to take a long view when your emotions fluctuate like a Wakefield knuckleball, but a long view is warranted as Fenway Park celebrates its 100th anniversary this season. Not to mention it helps erase the bitter taste of the team’s 1-5 start under Bobby Valentine.

I grew up in an era (Paleozoic) when the Red Sox weren’t very good. My grandfather got me hooked on the Sox. I recall him listening to Curt Gowdy on the radio on our back porch (he called it a piazza) and I felt I was at the ballpark. Saw my first game at Fenway in 1961 when the lineup included such luminaries as Don Buddin, Pete Runnells, Frank Malzone and a young fella who we later came to call Yaz because no one could pronounce his last name.

It didn’t matter all that much that the team stunk although I have to admit I was a little disappointed when Gary Geiger led the club in homers with 18 in a year when Maris hit 61 and Mantle 54. These guys weren’t the millionaires we see today. Yastrzemski made $8,000 his first year and surely needed another job in the off-season and Malzone used to run tryouts at Capital Park in Augusta for several years after he retired.

My grandfather, of course, had lived through this for years, although he was around when the Red Sox won four World Series between 1912 and 1918. He grew up in Everett, Mass., just outside of Boston and was 15-years-old when Fenway Park opened in 1912. We had several debates in the ’70’s over the best Sox outfield of all time. He said no group could top Lewis, Speaker and Hooper while I stood by Rice, Lynn and Evans.

There were well-documented lean times for the Sox after 1918, but in those days, rooting for the team was all about hope. It arrived in 1939 when Ted Willams came to town and drove in 145 runs his rookie year, a rookie record that still stands. Williams didn’t become a fan favorite until long after he retired but it’s tough not to admire a swing like his.

It seemed every generation was tossed a bone. The Sox reached the World Series for the first time in 28 years in 1946 only to lose a heartbreaker to the Cardinals. They were back in 1967, the Impossible Dream year that probably saved the franchise. As much as I enjoyed Boston winning the World Series in 2004, nothing for me topped the drama in 1967, perhaps because it was so unexpected.

Today, the team is all about expectations rather than hope. Salaries are off the charts and we expect these millionaires to produce. I like them no less for this, but I admit I expect much more. I am part of the spoiled generation, too.

When I think of the recent success, though, I often think of individuals, which is part of the beauty of baseball. Watching Pedro twirl one of his masterpieces is certainly worth more than a single victory. The pragmatist in me says a win is a win, but the dreamer only cares about style and grace, diving catches with the game on the line, majestic home runs, dramatic strikeouts.

This includes failure, too. At the end of the season, 85 wins often appears that way, but final results seldom equate to the journey.

Gary Hawkins — 621-5638

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