I have a hunch that I share a secret shame with a lot of you, but the crux of the matter is that it's not a secret at all. My compulsion is as plain as the shirt on my back, because, well... it is the shirt on my back. I have next to no willpower when it comes to baseball merchandise, and even as a nearly broke college student, I find myself spending most of my meager income on Red Sox attire.
I get most of my stuff from Chowdaheadz and the Red Sox Team Store on Yawkey Way, but I have a few from places like Hadlock Field (home of the Double-A Seadogs) or even other Major League ballparks like CitiField. I'm on the email lists for the aforementioned vendors (and the MLB.com shop) and every time they send me something advertising discounted merchandise I just have to browse.
Normally, I detest shopping, but there's something about baseball that makes me rediscover my natural female shopping instinct. I even turn to baseball attire when shopping for my considerably less obsessed family. This Christmas, I bought my sister and brother-in-law matching sweatshirts, though I had my doubts about them matching in public...
My sister and I often end up matching inadvertently, but I think it's weird when married couples dress alike on purpose.
I've already told them that I'm going to buy their eventual child a bunch of Red Sox attire, teach him or her the entire roster, and take him or her to Fenway and use them to shamelessly beg for autographs. They interpreted this promise as free babysitting and clothes that they wouldn't need to buy.
So I guess my secret shame isn't secret at all, or even really that shameful, depending on who you ask. My bank account, however, might disagree.