Dear Boston Red Sox:

I’d like to say thank you. Thank you for giving me the best season of Red Sox baseball in my entire life.

There. I said it. It sounds too simple, too stupid and too plain for me to say it. It’s obvious for anyone that knows me, given that I’ve been a Red Sox fan since little league, and that I have a Sox cap on my head nearly every day of the year, with at least five different color hats to choose from.

But I need to say it. Because as horrific as this will sound to any true Red Sox fan, my overwhelming emotion early Friday morning for the Red Sox wasn’t despair, or sadness. My final response to their loss to the Yankees was a huge sigh of relief.

The last few months are a time that no fan of Red Sox baseball will ever forget. For everything that goes with being a few outs short of making a World Series – second-guessing Grady Little, wondering why Nomar disappeared during the playoffs, and questioning the immortality of Pedro Martinez, among them – nothing can change that fact.

But at the University of Massachusetts, the games changed the way we live. Win or lose, many students on campus dreaded game nights for the Red Sox because of the chaos afterwards. And sadly, the further the Red Sox-Yankees series dragged on, the more I became one of them.

There have been four major post-game disturbances since Oct. 4, for those of you counting. Each time, hundreds of students who want no part of the action had no choice but to be involved. Fire alarms pulled during the disturbances emptied hundreds of unsuspecting students into courtyards filled with drunks throwing rocks at riot police armed with pepperball guns. All they could hope is that they didn’t get caught in the crossfire. Thursday night’s drama was no different: it even included serious vandalism to the fire alarm system in Thoreau Hall, an inexplicable choice for destruction.

As can probably be expected, Massachusetts Daily Collegian reporters were dragged into the fray as a part of doing their job. This isn’t to complain – it’s a part of the duties. But we’ve also been stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Rioters hassled reporters on the scene for being press, identifying us by our open pad and pen. Police hassled us for being on the scene, with many officers treating us no differently than any other student, despite our job at hand. One vandal chased a staff member on Thursday night after she took a picture of him pulling a railing out of the ground near the Morrill Science Center. Two other Collegian reporters were pepperballed in Northeast, even after they identified themselves as media. One of the two vomited from the effects.

The point of mentioning these facts isn’t to criticize authorities, or to question the enforcement of school policies on people showing their “love” for the Sox. Quite to the contrary, I sympathize with the officers who missed the games so they could get ready to deal with a bunch of violent idiots.

For many students, the results of the games were rendered almost unimportant by the end, as we dodged a combination of pepperballs, bricks and beer bottles flying through the air. You can love the Sox all you want – it isn’t going to save you from taking a brick off the dome piece.

All of this was brought to you by your friendly neighborhood Red Sox fans, as they showed their support for the team through violence.

What rioters forgot, though, is what they were supposedly celebrating.

The 2003 Red Sox formed a team marked by greatness, with lunch bucket heroes like David Ortiz, Jason Varitek and Trot Nixon representing a team that succeeded because of its togetherness and willingness to put aside egos for the betterment of a group working toward a common goal. How could destruction, mayhem and a blatant disregard for others possibly represent that?

Sure, the Red Sox had their downsides. Pedro’s whining and continuing deterioration from the ranks of the all-time greats is disheartening. Manny Ramirez continues to make fans tear their hair out, as they watch a man who has hitting down to a science, but has little clue how to do much of anything else. And finger-flippin’ Byun-Hyung Kim has probably played his last game as a member of the Red Sox.

But that’s not how I will choose to remember this team, and neither is the violence in Southwest. For all of my frustration and aggravation over the last two weeks covering melees, I refuse to let it sour me on the Red Sox.

I’m taking back this season as a fan, and I’m hoping others will do the same.

Dan Lamothe is a Collegian columnist.

Photo bendee: Dan Lamothe

Pull quote: “Win or lose, many students on campus dreaded game nights for the Red Sox because of the chaos afterwards. And sadly, the further the Red Sox-Yankees series dragged on, the more I became one of them.”