So I grew up in a weird household. My father was a die hard yankees (and jets, rangers, knicks) fan, and we were New Yorkers until we moved to CT in early 75. I was 8 years old and in 3rd grade and brand new transplanted in northern CT and I latched on to the 75 Sox when the whole state did because I just moved here (but retained my Jets, Knicks, Rangers craziness) I loved baseball and was making new friends, anyway, through the next few formative years of sports obsession the sox were great and the Yanks (I hate to say it) were better. I hated the Yankees, and when the sox and Yankees played my father and I would have a great time together. He put down Boston, I put down reggie. But I still remember the day Munson died. My dad was devastated, and I learned humility because deep down even as an 12 year old who respected the hell out of Thurman (unlike reggie), I tried to frame it as a rivalry win, and my dad taught me in a quick second that ain't how this stuff works. Thurman was one of the great ones.