The scars of my sports fandom were forged in the third base grandstand of Fenway Park.
When my maternal grandfather, Ray Paradiso, returned home to his adopted country after coming ashore at Omaha Beach and helping the world beat back fascism in World War II, he checked a few items off his personal to-do list.
Securing Red Sox season tickets, in that third base grandstand, was atop that list.
Those seats, acquired in 1946, were in our family for decades. Like every other Red Sox fan, the dates that were hurled in our direction in the years that followed them became badges of honor. “Armor yourself in it,” as Tyrion Lannister said,
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