College campuses have been described as dangerous places, but it wasn't until recently that I realized how scary they really are. I had heard that anti-Israel sentiment runs rampant on certain campuses. In preparation for battle, I attended lectures, conferences, and programs that train high school students for 'combat' when they arrive at college. I came to Tufts University in Medford, Massachusetts ready for the worst. But while I discovered that Tufts is a very positive environment for pro-Israel and Jewish students, it is not such an accepting environment for Yankee-supporting New Yorkers.
I was not fortunate enough to be part of a Yankees activist training program as a high school senior, so I arrived on campus fearful and uninformed. I had asked my parents to send me a hat when the Yankees played the Twins, but my package did not arrive until four hours before the Yankee-Red Sox showdown.
I wore the hat while watching the game in the safety of a fellow New Yorker's room. I wore the hat as I peeked into the "Red Sox rooms," pretty much every room on campus. I wore the hat while door after door was shut in my face. I wore the hat as I encountered insults from students who were my friends the day before. I wore the hat during our victory laps through the dorm.
The real test came the morning after Game 1. I put on my blue and white Israeli Air Force tee-shirt, and then remembered that I had my hat, and that the shirt and hat happen to match perfectly. But did I have the guts to wear the hat around campus? Did I have the guts to wear the hat to my political science class, which just the day before had come to the consensus that people on campus care more about the Yankees/Red Sox rivalry than the Kerry/Bush one? Could I sit in the same room as the intimidating senior who wore a Red Sox jersey every day and despises the Yankees with every fiber in his body? Why wasn't I prepared for this?
Standing in the middle of my dorm room pondering my predicament, I began to laugh. I felt completely confident wearing a shirt supporting Israel, but quivered at the thought of being ridiculed or abused as a Yankee supporter. I thought it would be easier to show my support as time went on and I built up confidence, but I was wrong - the more the Red Sox lost, the more violent their fans became. And the more intimidated I was.
But the worst was yet to come. It was Saturday evening and I was all set to watch the game with some guys in my dorm. They were all Sox fans, but not the die-hard kind, so I thought everything would be cool. I showed up as the game was starting, this time wearing my "I heart NY" shirt in addition to the hat. The owner of the largest television in the dorm came to the door and said, "Sorry Sam, you can't wear that hat in here."
"Excuse me?" I replied. "No sorry, it's my TV, and you can't wear the hat in here, just take it off ... you're lucky I'm letting you wear the shirt." I was speechless. I sulked back to my room, wishing the Anti Defamation League tackled discrimination cases on account of baseball team affiliation.
While as a Jew I don't face the traditional scapegoating that my ancestors faced, I and all other Yankees supporters are scapegoats in another way. It is my theory that a large portion of Sox fans have no other outlet for their anger at their team for failing them year after year, so they take it out on Yankees fans. Of course, there are those that aren't the "hatin' kind," but that's not what this article's about. It was especially after the massacre in Game 3, and the ensuing possibility of a Yankee sweep, that I really understood why they hated us so much.
If only there really were a sweep. If you're superstitious, which I think most of Boston is, then I take full responsibility for the lack of a sweep, because I literally typed "the Yankees swept the Red Sox" before Game 4 was over. I must have counteracted that other curse.
The final three games, however, allowed me to witness the most brutal acts of anti-Yankeeism that I have ever seen. Even as the "cursed team" began to win, the Sox lovers were still hostile towards Yankee lovers. After each win, they rallied (or rioted) on the residential quad, lit trash cans on fire, and cried out chants of "Yankees suck" and other blasphemous comments towards my beloved Jeter and A-Rod.
By the end of Game 7, there were easily 1,000 celebrators storming the president's house. It was true insanity. Sign me up for a Yankees advocacy training program because I don't know if I can do this again next year.
Samantha Goldman is a freshman whose has not declared a major.
