In the 1980s, nobody was a bigger San Francisco 49ers fan than my cousin Scott McLaughlin.

If you ran into him on the golf course in those days, there was a better-than-average chance that you would see Scott wearing a 49ers hat, a 49ers T-shirt, 49ers shorts and 49ers socks. That is not a joke, either. We can only assume he saved his “I’m a Niner” body paint and wig set for game days.

Like most 49ers fans back then, Scott’s favorite player was Joe Montana, the quarterback who led the team to four Super Bowl titles in the 1980s. By the time we got into the 1990s, the team was moving on to Steve Young at quarterback.

Montana missed the entire 1991 season with an injury, and he only played one game during the 1992 campaign. Still, Scott was holding out hope that Montana would return the 49ers to greatness when he came back healthy.

Unfortunately for Scott, the 49ers did not see it that way. They traded Montana to the Kansas City Chiefs on April 20, 1993, and it broke my cousin’s heart.

It also pissed him off.

Scott said goodbye to the 49ers and followed Montana to Chiefs Nation. When I saw him on the golf course that summer, his wardrobe was much different. He was wearing a Chiefs hat, a Chiefs T-Shirt and Chiefs shorts.

I am not too sure about the socks, and assumed his “I’m a Chief” body paint and wig set was on order.

While I believe Scott was back on board with Young and the 49ers by the time they won the Super Bowl again in January of 1995, I had to admire him for following his favorite player.

In those days, switching favorite teams was seen as one of the worst things a guy could do. You stuck with your team through thick and thin, and you never — EVER — wanted to be labeled as a “front runner.”

Switching teams — and switching them so openly — was a very brave move by Scott, who took tons of grief from people like me.

I nearly followed Scott’s lead and switched baseball teams after the Boston Red Sox traded Rafeal Devers to the San Francisco Giants this past Father’s Day. That trade broke my heart, and it really pissed me off.

Raffy is my favorite baseball player, and that is not just because he helped the Red Sox win the World Series in 2018. It is not even because he saved his best games for the Yankees.

Instead, he is my favorite player for a moment during Red Sox batting practice before the third game of the 2019 season in Seattle.

My son, Grady, was 11 at the time, and the two of us drove the 600 or so miles to Seattle to watch the defending World Series champions play two games at the newly-named T-Mobile Park. We watched the second and third games of the season.

After watching Mitch Moreland blast a pinch-hit three-run home run in the top of the ninth inning as the Red Sox overcame a 6-1 deficit for a 7-6 victory on Friday, March 20, we went to watch the teams play again that Saturday.

I bought Grady a new Red Sox hoodie at a shop outside the park, and we made our way down toward the fence on the third base line. Grady had a ball and a Sharpie in his mitt, hopping to snag an autograph.

As we were 25 or 30 rows up from the field, Grady said, “Dad, he’s pointing to me.”

Before I could even ask who was pointing at him, I saw Raffy, who was fielding balls at third base, launch a throw. Then, Raffy put his hands on his head and winced a bit, as if he was just then realizing that he threw a missel to an 11-year-old boy who may or may not be able to catch.

Somehow, Grady got his ball and Sharpie out of his mitt in time to catch the ball above his left shoulder. The force of the throw forced Grady’s hand back as far as his arm could reach.

The hundreds of Red Sox fans there applauded Grady, and Raffy pointed at him with his glove hand. Then, he nodded, as if to tell the kid, “Nice catch.”

Later in that game, a fan asked Grady, “Are you the boy who made that catch?”

The Red Sox lost that game, 6-5. They lost the next day, too, dropping the series 3-1 to the Mariners. But that did not matter. Thanks to Raffy, the boy had a memory that will last a lifetime.

So did his dad.

Over the years, Raffy became Boston’s best hitter. He wasn’t the best third baseman, but he could always hit. He always hit big in the clutch, too.

When the Red Sox signed Raffy to an 11-year, $331 million contract in January of 2023, I figured I would get to watch Raffy play for my team for the next decade.

That was a saving grace for a Red Sox fan who was still peeved that the team traded Mookie Betts to the Dodgers in January of 2020. Piece by piece, the Red Sox dismantled that great team of 2018 because owner John Henry wanted to save money.

The worst part is how Henry and Co. get rid of players. Henry owns The Boston Globe, and he uses that as a propaganda arm to slam players on their way out of town. I figure he does that to deflect criticism from himself.

They did it with Nomar Garciaparra in 2004. They did it to manager Terry “Tito” Francona after the 2011 season. They did it to Johnny Damon. They did it to Betts.

With Mookie, the line was that he did not want to play in Boston, so the fans were angry at the player instead of the owner who is using his revenue from the Red Sox to finance his other interests.

Mookie said he wanted to play in Boston. He just did not want to have to take a discount to do it.

Most of the horrible moves the Red Sox made were to save money. Henry says he wants to win, but he wants to do it like the low-budget Tampa Bay Rays, who have never won a World Series.

Money is why they traded Raffy. You will never convince me otherwise. The move saved Henry around $250 million.

The propaganda machine says Raffy was a bad teammate, even though the Netflix documentary about the 2024 team seems to show the opposite. Story after story pushed that narrative. The team-owned radio announcer said he was a bad teammate.

So, Red Sox fans were mad at Raffy. Good riddance to the diva slugger, they said.

Maybe those stories are true, this time. Maybe Raffy isn’t the best teammate. But I am skeptical because it is the same playbook. I also saw the look on Raffy’s face when my son made that catch.

After the trade, I have followed every Red Sox game. I check out the box scores and read the stories. I read the trade rumors.

But I had a hard time watching any games, and I really thought hard about switching teams. This one, I thought, might be the final straw.

I thought about buying a Cincinnati Reds hat because Tito, who will forever be my favorite manager, is skippering that team. But, thanks to a certain wannabe dictator, I can never wear a red hat.

I added a Giants hat to my cart on a shopping website, but I couldn’t pull the trigger.

Through thick, thin, bad trades and a horrible owner, I must stick with my team. After all, I somehow stayed with the Chicago Bears after they traded Jim McMahon to San Diego in August of 1989. No trade could ever break my heart more than that one, and no team owner was worse than Michael McCaskey.

So, I still wear my Red Sox hat. I will still cheer for the Old Towne team because that is the team I picked as a free agent fan sometime in the 1970s. I picked the Red Sox because they are my dad’s team, too.

The team has been hot as can be since July 1, and I will be them rooting on, hoping they win a World Series before they trade Jarren Durran and turn the propaganda machine toward slandering the character of another one of my favorite players.

But, for now, I’m going to leave my “I’m a Red Sock” body paint and wig set in the closet.

 — Bill Foley, who is still heartbroken about that Jim McMahon trade, can be reached at foles74@gmail.com. Follow him at twitter.com/Foles74 or Bluesky at @foles74.bsky.social. Listen to him on the ButteCast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you find your favorite podcasts.