OH MAN, IT’S BEEN a stink year for the Mariners, and… “Let’s go Red Sox!” Wait, did you hear that? “Let’s go Red Sox!” Great, it’s the Boston Sports Fan Group of Seattle making a racket in Section 147.
The estimated 200 fans are just a small percentage of the many citizens of Red Sox Nation who invade the ballpark when the club they grew up with plays the Mariners. When Manny Ramirez gets a hit or Kevin “Yoouuk!” Youkilis comes to bat, it’s like the home fans aren’t even there. “Let’s go Red Sox!”
“Are you sure we’re not in Fenway?” says Eda Robitaille, who gets the prize for best Red Sox attire—a lower-back tattoo with the team logo—and best Red Sox story. She and her husband Dave—he’s a mortgage banker, she’s in “real estate _mahketing_”—met at Floyd’s Place in Lower Queen Anne on the night the Sox won the 2004 World Series. Two seasons later they were wed at Safeco Field by Chris Porter (the same Chris Porter who programs music for Bumbershoot). He was ordained by the Universal Life Church for the occasion, serving as their man of God. “Of the Red Sox religion,” says Dave Robitaille.
Seattle’s not a place where you get beer poured on your head for wearing the wrong cap (unlike, say, the Bronx). But that doesn’t mean the Red Sox Nation is exactly welcome either (especially when their team shuts the Ms down three games in a row). As one local cracks while standing in the left-field beer line, “This is the only time I’d rather see the Yankees fans.”