When I was 9 years-old my dad got me my first radio. It wasn’t a regular radio, it was a huge, clunky headset radio. Like Skull Candy headphones with a radio built in. My grandma told me that Cubs games were on AM 720 so of course, in 2003, I had a spectacular first year of baseball fandom. I listened to the entire Cubs’ playoff run and I vividly remember Aramis Ramirez’s grand slam in Game 4 of the NLCS, not only because it was a huge moment, but because I got out of my bed to call my grandma. “Did you see it!?” I asked. “Yep, I was watching.” She said (I’m pretty sure she was smiling). That radio broke one night when I rolled over and crushed it. It wasn’t until about mid 2004 that I became interested in the Sox. The Cubs were a losing team for all I knew, and I wanted to follow a winner. I admit I was a bit of a fair weather fan as a 10-year-old. I’m adopted and my parents said that my birth mom wanted me to be raised a Sox fan. My dad, growing up on the South Side of Chicago, had no problem with this request. Knowing this I felt good switching over to the Sox. I switched just in time to see them do alright in 2004 and then, as everyone knows, take the whole thing in 2005. I’ve been purely a Sox fan since then. Of course I’ll sometimes switch up the dial from 670 to 720 so I can hear what the Cubs are doing. My grandma passed away in August of 2010 and this will be my first baseball season without her. She was 94 when God finally told her it was time to come home, so she never got to see the Cubs win a World Series. She came in a little late and left too early. But I know she’ll be watching from Heaven when the Cubs finally do hoist a World Series banner at Wrigley, I just won’t get to call her to see if she was watching.