Month: October 2005 (Page 3 of 12)

I spent the last ten years of my life on the north side of Chicago. I actually bled Cubbie blue a good eight years before I ever moved there, thanks to the scores of games that WGN broadcast in 1986 to little ole me in Smallville (Lancaster, Ohio, if you’re curious). I was lucky enough to attend dozens of Cubs games (quite possibly over 100) in my time, including all four of the NLCS games in 2003 against the Marlins. So when the White Sox made the playoffs, my first reaction was, well, the Red Sox ended their curse last year. How cool would it be if the White Sox ended theirs the next year?

Well, forget that. I can’t root for the White Sox. And the fans of the Sox have no one but themselves to blame for it.

There’s a joke email going around that includes an application for Cubs fans to become White Sox fans. It’s pretty funny, and rightfully pokes fun at all of the ludicrous things the Cubs have done over the years in order to “shake things up” (trading Lou Brock, College of Coaches). But when I stand back and analyze it, I see it for what it is: the work of someone deeply insecure and insanely jealous. The Cubs were the golden children of baseball in Chicago the entire time I lived there, even though they made the playoffs only twice. And the White Sox fans suffered the worst Napoleon complex you can imagine as a result.

My distaste for the Sox comes down to two separate events at two different Cubs/Sox games. In the first game, my wife and I were in the Wrigley bleachers, and the White Sox were beating the ever living snot out of the Cubs. There was a Sox fan a few rows in front of us, and he turned around and gloated to all of the Cubs fans that surrounded him. Now, that alone is no big deal. We’re good sports – hell, we’re Cubs fans – and we can take a good rousing. But he kept doing it as the Sox increased their lead, and eventually, he turned around, for the third or fourth time, with his arms up, saying, “Awww, yeah, how ya like us now?” And a Cubs fan threw a piece of popcorn at him, and hit him in the nose. A measly little piece of popcorn.

The Sox fan instantly attacked the Cubs fan. In the Wrigley Field bleachers.

So let’s review: The Sox fan is taunting Cubs fans in their own park, and yet completely flies off the handle and starts a fight when someone actually stands up to him. Dude, what the hell were you expecting? Me, I was amused by the whole thing, except the part where they threw the popcorn thrower out of the park along with the Sox fan, which I thought was unjust. But I never forgot just how thin that Sox fans’ skin was.

And then another Sox fan went one better a couple years later. In the last Cubs/Sox game I attended, I witnessed a war of words between three Cubs fans and three (shirtless) Sox fans as we were walking down Sheffield. The Cubs fan fires some lob about who was doing better in the standings.

The Sox fan said, “Yeah, well, at least I’m not some yuppie faggot.”

That, right there, is why I don’t like the White Sox. First of all, whoever this jackalope was, he was clearly just as much of a yuppie as the Cubs fan was; the tickets to those games are never cheap, thanks to the Cubs’ privately owned ticket scalper (don’t even get me started on that). Whatever the Cubs fan paid for his ticket, odds are the Sox fan paid just as much, and possibly more. And yet, the Cubs fan is a yuppie faggot, and the Sox fan isn’t?

It all speaks of a deep seated envy that I just find sad and pathetic. I can’t imagine how insufferable those sorry bastards will be if the Sox actually win the World Series before the Cubs do. That is why I can’t root for their team, even though it means siding with the arch rival Houston Astros instead.

I have nothing against the White Sox. They’ve played smart ball all year, and when it counted, they knocked the Tribe, my favorite AL team, out of contention just when everyone thought the Sox were the most vulnerable. But all I have ever heard from their fans is, “I don’t care, as long as the Cubs lose.” “Sox rule, Cubs drool.” Only losers say that kind of nonsense. And even if the White Sox win it all, the majority of their fans will still be the biggest losers I’ve ever met.

You want to prove you’re better than that, Sox fans? Then act like you’re above “yuppie faggot” slander. Until then, it doesn’t matter how many games you win. As long as you have that attitude, you’re still losers.

Ye gods, we have another umpire controversy in Chicago. Jermaine Dye coxed a plunk out of the home plate umpire, even though the ball hit his bat (the Fox crew showed definitively that it was indeed a foul ball). This eventually leads to Paul Konerko batting with the bases loaded. He sees one pitch from D.J. Qualls. He hits it for a Grand Slam. A Grand Slam that never should have been.

It brings out the Oliver Stone in me. First you have the non-call during A.J. Pierzynski’s at-bat in Game 2 against Anaheim that instantly leads to a White Sox win. Now you have the non-hit batsman in Game 2 against Houston, that leads to a certain Chicago win. It’s as if baseball made it clear to the umpire crew how good it would be for baseball if the White Sox won.

And yet, it wasn’t quite over yet, as the ‘Stros got to Bobby “Big Time” Jenks and took him for two runs with two out in the top of the ninth. That play at the plate was a nail biter; the tag was there, but Chris Burke lifted his hand and slammed it down on the plate to avoid the tag. October drama, at its finest.

So imagine everyone’s surprise when Scott Podsednik hits a dinger off of Brad Lidge in the bottom of the ninth. Podsednik, who had been hitless all night and hit ZERO HOME RUNS all year. Go figure. Someone has to be the Scott Brosius or Mark Lemke. May as well be the guy with no stick.

It’s funny, given the guys that started the game (Clemens, Contreras), you would have expected much more of a pitchers’ duel between these two. In fact, both pitchers were knocked around pretty early; after two innings, the score was 3-3, and find me an oddsmaker who thought that would happen. The difference, though, was that Clemens left after the 2nd with a hamstring injury, and Contreras stayed on until the 8th.

The truth is, as much catch-up ball as Houston played (Lance Berkman’s 2RBI double silenced the Comiskey faithful, at least for a little while), this was Chicago’s game to lose, and they knew it. As soon as Clemens left the game, the Sox were in control. Wandy Rodriguez walked way too many people, and the Houston bats sure as hell didn’t have an answer for the Sox bullpen. They had runners on first and third, with nobody out, and didn’t score. Strikeout, strikeout, strikeout. That’s pathetic. I don’t care if Jenks can throw 100 mph. So could Kyle Farnsworth, and people have never had any problem hitting him.

The funniest part about the game was the fact that Jeff Bagwell, starting his first postseason game this year, was the one who was plunked twice. Not Craig Biggio, the one who holds the MLB record for most plunks. No, it’s his fellow Killer B, the much larger Bagwell, who is hit twice. Well, if he’s not going to get a hit, I suppose getting hit somewhat balances it out.