Sox win!

The White Sox clinched the division! The White Sox clinched the division! It’s time to riot in the streets. We are actually going to be playing baseball in October on the South Side. I mean, in games that will count and everything. This is a thrill for me. It’s usually a once a decade occurrence so enjoy it while you can. But maybe, just maybe, this is our year.

I think that I will try to explain my White Sox fandom tonight. It is something that no one who isn’t from Chicago seems to understand. Everyone I meet just assumes that I am a Cubs fan. I mean, you’re from Chicago, that must automatically make you a Cubs fan, right? Wrong. When you are born in Chicago you automatically become a Bears fan. You are a Bulls fan when they have a team that could conceivably make the playoffs. If your parents are part of the twenty percent of the population who cares about hockey you are a Blackhawks fan. But baseball, that is dependent on where you were born and the way your family works.

Traditionally, if you are from the North Side you are a Cubs fan and if you are from the South Side (like myself) you are a Sox fan. That is part of the reason why the two teams have such differing images. The North Side of the city is the well educated, upper crust part of the city. The South Side is the blue collar side. The old meat packing houses were on the South Side. The mills were on the South Side. It was the tough edged part of town.

Here’s the best way to explain it. When you go to Wrigley Field you go to have a few beers, hang out in the crowd, try to hook up and maybe even watch a bit of the game. You might check the score from time to time but it doesn’t really matter. Heck, they’ll raise that flag with a W on it if the team wins. At a Sox game you are there to drink and watch the game. And maybe get into a fight. Especially if the first base coach is pissing you off.

This doesn’t explain really how I ended up a Sox fan. Like I said, in the end it is all about family. My grandfather (who loaded freight cars for a living) was a Sox fan from way back in the day. My mom, in order to rile up my grandfather a bit, became a Cubs fan. I, feeling that the tradition must be continued, cheer the White Sox. Plus, there was never a stadium cooler than old Comiskey. With the exploding scoreboard and the picnic area in the outfield and the concrete falling from the walls and the pillars everywhere, it was just a cool place to watch baseball. I like the fact that I saw my first game in the place where Babe Ruth played and the first All Star Game was held.

In the end, cheering the Sox is like always being the little brother. You never get the attention, people wonder just why you exist but you know, deep in your heart, that one day you are going to show your big brother up. And when that happens, man, you will not believe the celebration that will occur.