As the 2026 season begins to settle into its first rhythms, Red Sox fans are already doing what Red Sox fans have always done in late March and early April: reading too much into everything. A crisp Opening Day win feels like a signal. A sloppy extra-inning loss feels like a warning. A starting pitcher looks dominant and suddenly the entire rotation seems fixed. A bullpen wobble and the anxiety returns all at once. That emotional swing is part of the charm of baseball’s first

Many stories have been written and told about this classic rivalry. Books, documentaries, highlight reels, and barroom arguments have all tried to capture what it means when the Boston Red Sox face the New York Yankees. The history stretches back more than a century, through dynasties and droughts, through heartbreak and redemption. Yet even with all that history behind it, the rivalry somehow feels just as alive today as it did generations ago. Part of that is because the ri

As the 2026 season draws near, it’s only natural for Red Sox fans to begin thinking about the players who might shape the coming summer. Spring always has a way of resetting expectations. Prospects arrive in camp with fresh opportunity, veterans chase one more good season, and somewhere along the way a player few people expected becomes part of the story. But if you look back through the history of the Boston Red Sox, something quickly becomes clear: the players fans often re

There used to be a day on the schedule that felt different. You didn’t have to check the standings. You didn’t need a preview show or a deep dive into matchups. You just looked at the pitching rotation and circled the date. The Red Sox ace was pitching. That word — ace — used to mean something in Boston. Not just the best arm on the staff. Something heavier than that. Something closer to certainty. For years, that certainty had a face: Roger Clemens. When Clemens walked to th

A ballpark isn't supposed to feel mortal. It’s just steel and brick and green paint. It doesn't age the way players do. It doesn't limp off the field or hold tearful press conferences. It just stands there. And yet Fenway Park feels older now. Not weaker. Not fading. Just older — like someone who has seen enough to stop reacting to every little thing. There was a time when Fenway felt loud before first pitch. Not because of decibels. Because of anticipation. You walked up Yaw