I have been a fan of the Boston Red Sox since 1965. My dad was a rabid Red Sox fan since fleeing from Germany in 1936 to do graduate work at Harvard University. “You must root for the Red Sox and hate the Yankees,” people advised him when he arrived, and he taught me well.

In 1965 and 1966, the New York Yankees and Red Sox were both terrible, so I happily chortled when the Yankees frequently lost and was happy when the Red Sox infrequently won. One late August evening in 1967, however, Dad came into my room as I was getting ready for bed.

“We must root for the Yankees,” he announced.

“What?” I asked, giving him my full attention. “Why?”

He explained that the Yankees were still terrible, but that the Red Sox were battling the Minnesota Twins, Chicago White Sox, and Detroit Tigers for first place in the American League. And back then, only the National League and American league teams with the best record made the post-season, playing each other in the World Series.

“It’s still OK to hate the Yankees so long as they aren’t playing anybody competing with the Red Sox for the pennant,” my dad assured me. “But if they beat one of those competitors, that will help the Red Sox.”

“OK,” I said, somewhat doubtfully, and started rooting for the Yankees whenever they played someone competing with the Red Sox for the pennant. And, miraculously, the Red Sox won on the last day of the season, but lost to the St. Louis Cardinals in the World Series.

The following August, Dad took me to my first baseball game in Yankee stadium, and since the Yankees were playing the Tigers (who were once again battling the Red Sox for the pennant), we rooted for the home team — and they won! Unfortunately, the Tigers ended up winning the pennant and defeated the Cardinals in the World Series.

Over the years, I have formed some strong opinions about how the world does and should work. But Dad’s lesson that it’s sometimes necessary, even noble, to root for your enemy to do well in order to support a good cause has helped me realize that often people with whom I disagree might occasionally make a good point or two, even if I sometimes have to take a deep breath to quell my irritation.

Most of the time, I’m a fan, not a fanatic. Fanatics root for their “team” even when it’s clearly against their interests. They attack with words or weapons those on the other “team.” They don’t listen to reason. They insist on preaching at others instead of admitting that they might be part of the problem they want solved. They believe that all the “facts” are on their side, and that all the fanatics are on the other “team.” But all “teams” have fanatics: Israelis, men, Arabs, women, progressives, pet-owners, conservatives, environmentalists, faith community members, business leaders, artists, educators, consultants, law enforcement officers — and especially New York Yankees and Kansas Jayhawk fans.

Currently, the Cardinals are playing the Red Sox. I rooted for the Red Sox to beat the Cardinals during last year’s World Series, but I have grown to like the Missouri team since moving to Columbia, Missouri nearly eight years ago. And while the Red Sox are terrible this year, the Cardinals are competing for a play-off spot. So, I’m rooting for the Cardinals.

I’m sure Dad would understand.