A couple of weeks ago, I had the pleasure to travel to Boston, home of the famed Fenway Park, one of America's oldest ballparks. I was even blessed enough to come across tickets to see the Red Sox beat the Brewers.

The park was built in 1912 and then remodeled in the 1930s. Some of the seats at Fenway still date back to the 1940s. They don't want to remodel them because they would lose seating capacity because we Americans have gotten larger, thus creating the need for larger seats, not to mention the fact that the old seats hold so much history.

I sat in these ancient seats, and they are quite compact. You get to know your neighbors a little more than in most arenas. However, it creates an atmosphere like none other. The history of greats, like the Great Bambino (Babe Ruth), Ted Williams, Cy Young and Carlton Fisk, resonates throughout the park. The left field wall is even historic, with its very own name —- the Green "Monstah" (like Bostonians would say).

Over in right field, when there isn't anyone in the stadium, among all of the green seats one red seat stands out. It represents the spot were Ted Williams hit the longest in-stadium home run. The score board even takes you back in time. It is manually operated, right down to listing the American and National League score updates.

Then, there are the fans. Wow! They are animated, focused, energetic, enthusiastic, fun-loving, and just a downright joy to be around, as long as you are rooting for the Sox. Each of the approximately 33,000 fans that Fenway can hold watches every pitch, every play, every second of the game while still juggling baseball's great staples: beer, peanuts, hot dogs (and only at Fenway, clam "chowdah," which is really good).

The best thing about it is that the fans actually stay for the whole game, unlike fans of a particular team I will mention in a minute. That is what I call a fan.

Braves fans, on the other hand, geez! Where are you when Atlanta isn't doing well? Where are you during a Braves slump? Where are you during preseason and plain old early season? Where are you during the eighth and ninth innings? Are you even paying attention to the game, or is it just a classy, Southern thing to have in the background while having a few beers and a hot dog?

Next time you happen to catch the Braves playing at Turner Field, take a look around during two situations:

> If it is late in the game.

> If the Braves are losing.

Fans seem to dissipate. It's not a big deal to them. Coming to Turner Field isn't a big deal. I can remember being 15 years old, watching Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium being demolished right before my eyes. It all just collapsed into one big heap and was turned into a parking lot for the bigger and better, with the only remnant being a marker for where Hank Aaron hit his 715th home run.

We aren't fans; we just want entertainment while drinking an $8 beer and an equally overpriced hot dog.

I love my Braves. They make up a part of who I am. I love the Braves like a Red Sox fan loves his team. It runs through my veins. I want Braves fans to be like Red Sox fans. I want the excitement and euphoria of cheering on our boys. I don't go to a Braves game to be a socialite.

I want to do the Tomahawk Chop and catch a fly ball. I want to paint a big "A" on my face and scream at the top of my lungs when an umpire makes a bad call.

I want to have Red Sox fans all around me, except I want them to cheer on my boys.

Braves fans, wake up! Get on fire! Be a real fan, or don't be a fan at all.

> Kristin Byrd lives in Savannah.