I’m pretty sure I was born wearing red socks. Luckily, it was into perhaps the greatest decade the team has ever seen. It’s been 19 years, and I haven’t once questioned my dedication … until now.

I’ve seen a Boston collapse before. We weren’t always the most successful sports city — I’m sure all my other Beantown faithfuls remember the days of Paul Pierce’s team featuring the sluggish Antoine Walker and of course the high school junior varsity team that was the pre-2010 Bruins.

My point is that I don’t hate the Red Sox for going to shit quicker than Rick Ross’ health.

Recent allegations have targeted Lester, Beckett and Lackey for retreating to the clubhouse, drinking beer, ordering fried chicken and playing video games when they aren’t pitching.

First of all, before you Bostonians start angrily throwing fried chicken into the harbor, think about this: Lester and Beckett put up the best starting pitching stats on the team this season. If they want to throw back some brews on their off days, I honestly couldn’t care less.

On the other hand, you might as well just throw Lackey into the harbor; he’d be of better use there.

But let’s be honest. Players have bad seasons and teams have bad months — it happens. That’s not what I’m upset about.

What really grinds my gears is the backstabbing, cop-out ridden management headed by the PR-tastic three amigos. I’m not even that upset about John Henry’s barge-in to Sports Radio or even his adamant and outright opposition to Crawford.

I’m more angry at the management for its refusal to be loyal to not only its fans, but its players and coaches too. And speaking of Crawford, it’s funny how Red Sox ownership never supported or openly opposed his signing just in case it was a bust.

Oh, perfect, now Theo will be the only one standing in the road when the bus rails him to the curb quicker than that witch from “Mean Girls.”

Accept it or not, Theo’s baby face won your franchise two World Series. But I guess it’s tradition for Henry and company to drag it through the dirt on its way out, just like Nomar, Pedro, Damon and Manny.

You know, I’m really starting to understand why those guys left. I wouldn’t want to be portrayed as the skid mark on Henry’s whitey-tighties either. And what, just because it’s good for business?

Damn, that fat-ass Steinbrenner is starting to seem like a saint now.

Let’s talk about Tito. You didn’t even have to run him off the plank, he jumped your corrupt ship willingly.

He is arguably the best manager the Sox have ever seen, and it took you less than a week to murder his character.

Not only did Henry’s crew claim that supposed marital problems contributed to a bad last month, but they rumored Francona to be addicted to painkillers.

If there is one person I would believe in denying such allegations, it’s Tito. The guy wraps his chew in bubble gum, for God’s sake.

In any case, whether or not any of these rumors prove to be true, it’s apparent that the Red Sox organization is in shambles.

There’s no denying it and, unfortunately, I think Henry may have lost much of his fan base. But he could probably care less, he has Roush-Fenway Racing and Liverpool as backups.

So, for now, I’m taking my fandom to South Beach.

Feel free to join me.