When you follow a baseball team - or any professional team, really - and you buy a specific player jersey or t-shirt, who you pick says a great deal about who you are.

Since I follow the Red Sox, I inevitably spend time at Fenway games examining the sociological nature of that particular team and its fans.

Tek, Trot or - tear - Mueller: you appreciate the hard-working, silent types. You're a fan of the ones who do their jobs and don't necessarily shy away from the spotlight when it's thrust upon them, but are most content focusing on the task at hand. You admire players who eat dirt on a daily basis, take the extra swings or fielding practice when it's available and grit their teeth when they're training on their own time. You know that hard work speaks for itself. You like your beer, you know your stats and you're the one likely to be calling out, "Tek. Buddy. I fuckin' love you, man!"

Schilling: you are the optimists. During the first half of the 2004 season, you were looking for something on which to focus your prayers, and you found it in the one man who promised you a miracle when he rolled into town. When the 2004 postseason rolled around, you were the ones crying happy tears into your beers (you like it, too) as you saw the bloody sock because you KNEW that there was no way this kind of sacrifice would go unrewarded. You also doubled in population after the World Series, but I hardly fault you for that. You may or may not be Republican. Just saying.

Ortiz: you note the importance and joy of a single swing, therefore you cherish the little moments in life. You cherish strength, and you adore it most when it's coupled with a face-breaking smile and what would certainly be bone-crushing hugs. You also, coincidentally, enjoy jumping up and down when you celebrate. Odds are good that you probably have a passion for spices, particularly when found in salsa.

Manny: you just want to win. You also can show passive-aggressive tendancies. You rail and complain with the rest when your player seems to shirk his duties, but you're the first to say "I told you so" when he steps back up to the plate, figuratively speaking. You tend to point a lot.

He-Who-Used-To-Be-Johnny-Damon/Bronson Arroyo: You are most likely female. You may, in fact, support your player with a shirt that features "Mrs." before his surname. You like pink, it seems, and may be most likely to sport the pale pink Red Sox hats that make me cringe every time I see them on your heads (sorry. True. Team colors are, if anything, red and blue. Accept it. Wear it. Move on). But most importantly, you enjoy the sparkle factor that baseball can provide. It's not all about winning to you - it's about being in the park or watching the game and focusing on the fun involved. Of course you want the team to win, but how can you keep your mind strictly on that when you have a slow motion shot of Damon's hair swaying as he runs, or that delicious ass so cruely kept from all but the bleacher or Monster Seat fans for so much of the game...yeah, you know what I mean. Haha. Yeah you do.

I mention this - in a mostly tongue in cheek manner - because tickets for most of Boston's season are going on sale tomorrow. And while I'd of course be overjoyed at the prospect of attending any game, I'm going to be waiting in the virtual waiting rooms of gloom at 9 a.m. tomorrow morning with one particular game in mind, and a backup plan of two particular series.

Because, as I believe I've stated here before (only a million times or so), when I invested in my first (and thus far only) Red Sox player t-shirt, I went for the one who made me laugh. I cheered most loudly for the one who wasn't perfect, but who made his team stronger with his imperfections. Who played wherever Terry told him to play because he just wanted to be out there. The one who was on the proverbial chopping block for a huge portion of the season but still managed to pull out a two-home run evening because he cared so much. And who, until the very end, hoped with every bone in his body that he would be able to stay in the city - and with the team - he loved.

I bought a Millar shirt. And tickets for two out of the three Baltimore series go on sale tomorrow. I want to go to the first Baltimore game for which tickets are available (first series sold out before Millar was signed to the Orioles), and I want to wear my Millar jersey to Fenway one more time.

(And, for those who might be curious: Who will my favorite Red Sox player be this season? If I buy another player shirt, whose name will be on the back? I'll gladly toast a beer with the members of the first group I psychoanalyzed. O captain, my captain.)