Peter Drucker, the management guru, writes that within a few short decades, society rearranges itself--its worldview, its basic values, its social and political structure, its arts, its key institutions. Fifty years later, there is a new world. For me, and for millions of Red Sox fans all over the world, Boston--and Red Sox baseball--are going through a transformation.

Fifty-one years ago this year my father, long since departed these earthly environs, took my brother and me to see Cleveland play the 1949 Red Sox. I was seven. From a child's perspective, I recall how unfair I thought it was for the Red Sox to make "that colored boy" chase baseballs all over centerfield.

Our family lived in South Carolina, traveled to Boston in the summers, and "colored boy" was a polite way of saying "Negroes" or worse in that era. I had no way of knowing how awesome the hitting power of the Red Sox lineup was in the post World War II years.

My dad, brother and I watched Larry Doby, the first black to play in the American League, repeatedly chase down baseballs of the 1949 Red Sox. During the 1950s, we ventured into Fenway Park to watch the Red Sox host the hated Yankees for 4th of July doubleheaders (bleacher seats--rather benches--were 75 cents per ticket then). For tens of millions of New Englanders, historic Fenway Park is their personal field of dreams. John Harrington, corporate executive of the current Red Sox management, wants to tear down major league baseball's historic monument to family values.

Today Brian Daubach wears the number 23. But in my memories of the 1950s Red Sox, 23 was pitcher Tommy Brewer. No. 5 was not Nomar Garciaparra, but field manager Pinky Higgins. No. 25 was not Troy O'Leary but first baseman Dick Gernert. No. 22 was not Jimy Williams, but catcher Sammy White. No. 37 was not Rheal Cormier, but Jimmy Piersall.

I have more than a half century of sunk costs invested into Boston's hard luck, yet venerable, baseball team and its treasured home. A couple of years ago I took my 17 year old nephew to Boston with the premise that if I should suffer for half a century, he might as well catch the Red Sox-Fenway Park "virus" and suffer too.

As Harrington, Mayor Thomas Menino, and their legions of corporate climbers discard the sacred traditions of Fenway Park, I have several observations for their careful consideration:

Zero-sum games create permanent enemies. The current zero-sum power game will produce tens of millions of losers if Harrington and Menino destroy Fenway Park. Instead, why not phase in an upper deck of perhaps 10,000 seats? Harrington gets expansion, Menino gets re-elected, the players remain rich and my nephew and I keep our memories. Fans and Fenway Park neighbors would prove patient with the ongoing reconstruction.