Over the course of the past World Series between the Red Sox and Cardinals, I could not help from feeling slightly homesick. Every October at Macalester, the same old melancholy passes over my being. For as long as I can remember, I have watched the MLB playoffs with my dad. Not all the games. It was more of a “once the homework and other stuff is done,” flip on the end of a divisional series game kind of thing. Depending on what teams were playing, the baseball watching usually increased as the playoffs progressed. After the Red Sox won the World Series this year, I tried to remember if there was ever a year before college when I did not see the final out or hit (Re: 2001 Diamondbacks over Yankees) of the World Series with my dad. Since I’ve been at Mac I’ve called him after the last out of each World Series. This year was no different. He and my mom were just leaving a bar in Chicago when I called. “God. Boston. That city is so goddamn entitled,” he said half jokingly. “Maybe next year.” The “next year” is in reference to our beloved White Sox. While we still struggle with our favorite team, our suffering has diminished considerably. 2005, the first year the White Sox won the World Series since 1917, was the year that changed everything in my household. From the ages of 7 to way too old, after heartbreaking losses, I had a habit of crying in bed with the transistor radio under my pillow. I still listened to the postgame show so I could hear angry Chicago meatheads call in and express a percentage of the sadness I felt. My brother, who slept above me in our bunk bed, cared about the White Sox, but not nearly as much as me. He would sing Aretha Franklin classics in a falsetto voice for what seemed like hours after the games, trying to cheer me up. Those were the days. My dad has always been mature in his White Sox fandom during my lifetime, but when he was a kid struggled as I did. In 1967, after the Sox blew their playoff chances in the last few games of the season, he locked himself in his room for over a day. Before 2005, he enjoyed telling me that I was infected with a disease, the same one he had much longer than I did. We were cured in 2005 when the Sox finally won it–sweeping the Astros in the World Series.

Those are my memories. Here are a few others.

Jordan Lim ’15: The San Francisco 49ers

My family loves the Niners because of my grandpa, his siblings and my cousins. This generation of the family all grew up in San Francisco and the Giants and Niners were a big part of family gatherings and living in the City. They were the ones that passed it down and pretty much everyone in the family has been a fan since then. My Grandpa had season tickets for a very long time, so I’ve gone to lots of games. Some of my fondest memories are pre-season games between the Niners and the Raiders. The games don’t matter at all, but that doesn’t stop the fans from getting into fights and being ridiculously rowdy. At school, I like to BBQ and watch the games with friends to make up for the lack of family and team spirit back at home.

Joe Evers ’14: The St. Louis Cardinals

I’ve been a Cardinals fan for as long as I can remember. I was born in St. Louis and had older brothers who were fans, so basically I was a fan when I came into consciousness. If you grow up in St. Louis, everyone is a Cardinals fan. We had season tickets to the old park, which got demolished after the 2005 season. I remember going to a lot of games with my parents and brothers, which was really wonderful. In the late 90s, Mark McGwire went to the coffee shop by my house, so that was cool. People in St. Louis fucking loved Mark McGwire. When I was in high school, I would go to like 15 games a year. As far as food: classic hot dog with sauerkraut, grilled onions, relish and mustard for life. There are three games I remember really well. I’ve been fortunate enough to go to some really classic Cards games. When I was eight, I was at the game where Mark McGwire hit his 62nd home run, breaking the single season record. They stopped the game for like an hour to do a ceremony. In 2004, I saw the Red Sox break the curse and win the World Series in four games. Cool to say now, but it was a bummer at the time. In 2011, over fall break I went home and saw the Birds win the World Series in game seven. Amazing. At school, I live with a guy who will watch the big games with me. I also buy MLB.TV so I can watch the regular season on my computer.

Mark McCrae-Hokenson ’15: The Michigan Wolverines

My parents were both lifelong players of many sports, and that was a central part of my childhood. Instead of staying in and watching a movie, we would go play some sport. I played beer league softball in the womb (sans the beer). My mom loved to watch sports, more than my dad. She would be the one who would sit down at noon on Saturday and wouldn’t get up until the final football game ended at midnight. She says that when asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, young mama said “Dick Butkus,” an All-Star linebacker for the Bears at the time.

My sports caring routine was established by my mom, but the subject of my obsession was definitely geographic. My mom was too kind to pick favorites and always rooted for the underdogs, but I fell in love with the local team, University of Michigan. I had a wardrobe full of Michigan shirts, and because of my disdain for Michigan State, I only added a green shirt to my wardrobe in college. All of this was supported by my parents. They loved going to games and brought me along. Liking sports was just what you did. I think the most memorable game of my life was the 2006 Michigan vs. Ohio State football game. OSU was No. 1 and Michigan was No. 2 in the country, and when Michigan lost by three, I wept. And my momma acted like it was normal. That is more of a sidenote, but that was awful. She just tucked me in and made popcorn.