Why do we root, root, root for our particular teams?

I've uprooted myself quite a few times in my brief existence, spending significant time in Europe, California, and now DC. I've wandered the streets of Paris and London, trekked the emerald hills of Ireland, skied the majestic Alps, marveled at the Great Pyramids of Egypt, played a softball tournament in Australia, danced in the clubs of Berlin, breathed the filthy air of Rome, climbed the hills of San Francisco, and reflected spirituality on the banks of the River Jordan, among other amazing adventures. But one thing that has remained constant has been my love for the Cincinnati Reds.

Despite my enthusiasm for the Nationals, they'll never trump my devotion to the team of my childhood (except in the extreme case when they play each other in, say August 2005 and the Reds are way out of it but the Nats are still in it and I have to root for the Nats to take 2 of 3, which they did not and subsequently failed to make the playoffs.) In this day and age of technology and easy travel, maintaining allegiance to your team is simple no matter where you are in the wide, wide world.

Nothing can replace my priceless memories of Riverfront Stadium and the Reds who played there. We'd travel down I-75 from the Dayton area - an eternity for an eight or ten year old kid nearly bursting with anticipation - mesh Reds caps on heads, pointing in excitement every time we'd pass a car full of like-headed people, exclaiming, "They're going to the game, too!" Then, just as the anticipation was about to drive us mad, the car took the final interstate curve, and the Cincinnati skyline and the cathedral-like stadium exploded into view. The whole city seemed to come to life at that instant as the magic of summer and baseball took hold of it.

We usually got off the Freeman Avenue exit and bumped over the old railroad tracks on the way to the outlaying gravel parking lots full of guys selling large inflatable bats and plastic batting helmets and sometimes scorecards or programs. Then we'd get out and walk under the bridge and through the tunnel to the start of the ramps that went up and then turned and went up and then turned again and up and turned forever until we were on the outside concourse and could watch the boats on the river or stare up at the skyscrapers or just enjoy the thousands of Reds-decked fans streaming into the stadium.

I remember wanting to jump through the gates and run to the seats - couldn't wait to get there. (Never ran, though - back then, parents didn't let their children run wild in public places. It's a shame that's changed.) Finally, the green field erupted into our sight, and there were the players - gods in our eyes - warming up for the game. I know I saw Pete Rose play. I wish I remembered it. My memories of individual players really start around the time of Ron Oester, Nick Essasky, Ron Robinson, and Mario Soto, with Pete as manager, just after he stopped playing and right before his downfall. Of course, the vivid memories are of Eric Davis, Chris Sabo, Paul O'Neill, Tom Browning, Jose Rijo, the Nasty Boys, and the 1990 World Series Championship. And then there is my all-time favorite Red - Barry Larkin.

I recount these memories because they are part of what firmly embeds my love for the Reds into my heart, a love that can never be uprooted no matter where I may be in the world. Which brings me to the point of this post. How could someone ever change allegiance to another team, and how do people who did not grow up with baseball become fans of a team?

What prompted these thoughts was the article on Nats bloggers in WaPo last week. I started to wonder how such a devoted following could develop so quickly, especially for a team who had been the bastard child of baseball for so many years. I wondered how many new Nats fans had been O's fans before and why or how they had switched. I wondered if some of them had grown up somewhere else and had rooted for other teams as kids. I think it is a fascinating relationship Nats fans have developed with the team.

I love the Nationals. I would have loved them if they hadn't had that magical 2005 season. (I mean, I stood in line from 7am until tickets went on sale at noon so I could get Home Opener tix then!) I love the Giants, too, from my time spent in Monterey. I even rooted for the O's during my first two years in DC (though rooting for an AL team was kind of weird for me.) I love baseball, love the magic it brings, love to share enthusiasm and joy with fellow fans, but I could never stop loving the Reds the most.

It's a curious thing, team loyalty, isn't it? I'd appreciate any comments anyone might have about why they love their team and how they developed such affection (especially from Nats fans).
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