I had expansion team affection for the hapless early Mets that empowered me to root for their miraculous 1969 World Series victory.
I even retain a lifelong residual favorable disposition toward the Pirates, dating back to Bill Mazeroski's 1960 World Series home run, because my grandfather was a season ticket holder, even though I only ever knew my Poppy as gravel-voiced, partially-paralyzed a man enfeebled by a stroke. My parents met at Pitt, and I was born less than a mile from Forbes Field. Roberto Clemente was my first sports hero. In that sense, I can identify historical interest in two National League teams.
That said, I became a Red Sox fan slightly before November 1961 when I got a clock radio with a sleep timer as a birthday present. For certain, the radio preceded my first attending basketball games at UConn's Field House.
In 1986, WSBK was removed from the Brookhaven (LI) cable television channel lineup. It had previously addressed an historical eastern Long Island Red Sox fanbase emanating from the North Fork.
In 1986, I worked for a company that had box seats at Shea Stadium. My previous company also had seats at Shea. I was given 2-4 seats several times per season by both employers. Both companies were heavily weighted toward Mets fandom. I followed & watched & enjoyed them, especially that year when Red Sox games were no longer regularly on TV.
The capstone was joining much of the company huddled in a windowless conference room watching Game 6 of the NLCS on a black & white TV with crumpled aluminum foil added to the rabbit ears antenna.
I cede the floor here to Wikipedia, which reports well on the season, the series, and the Game 6 final that decided who would represent the National League in the World Series against the Red Sox.
en.wikipedia.org
But let's zoom in some.
I've looked up the dates and, armed with the facts, I am confident but not 100% certain of the exact facts required to support my memory. As is often said, "People will not remember what you said or what you did, but they will remember how they felt when they were with you."
October 13, 1986 was a Monday and Yom Kippur, so I was fasting from eating, and doing so as part of a 3-day weekend, during which my wife & I traveled with 15-month old daughter from Bellport to West Hartford to do a granchild-sharing visit by joining my family to break the YK fast. A year later my mother was hospitalized and in her life's final weeks, so this was the last of such gatherings.
Either in that day, with extended family gathered, or perhaps the day before while watching the Mets take a 3-2 NLCS lead, I revealed to my father that if the Mets were to win a 4th game against the Astros, I would be rooting for them in the World Series.
Among a number of famous, crushing moments as a Red Sox fan, I'd been in attendance at Games 1&2 of the 1975 World Series, and cried out, "No," when the choice was made to bring in a relief pitcher to 'save' what would have been a 2-0 lead over the Reds. I'd watched slack-jawed from Fenway's right field bleachers as Bucky ******* Dent's home run sailed off his bat in 1978. I'll stop there.
My father was a perceptive, dutiful, quietly accomplished man who was described in complimentary terms as "unassuming" in his Weaver High School yearbook. He cast a gentle side glance my way when I said I'd be rooting for the Mets. Nothing more.
Two days later, I was thrilled when the Mets won the legendary 6th game -- 7-6 in 16 innings -- and punched their ticket to their first World Series in 13 years.
And yet, even before the first Game 1 pitch, I
knew that I'd be rooting for the Red Sox, just as I knew I was signing up to experience heartbreaking defeat in a new and permanently memorable way. Whiley co-workers agonized over the Mets, I was calmly, mostly secretly, bizarrely secure that they had no worries.
I do not recall my father making any comment prior to that NLCS game or before/during/after the World Series. He must have said
something, but whether he did or didn't, nothing left an impression of criticism, gloating, "Told you so," or anything like that. I was given the full freedom of my own experience.