You’re probably wondering why I’ve reproduced the American League baseball standings today. Actually, the standings are not from today, or even from a few days ago. They are the standings on May 20, two weeks ago. By now, I’m sure the rankings have changed. Specifically, I’m sure the Chicago White Sox are no longer in first place. You will note that they were in first place on May 20, not only in the Eastern Division, but over all with the highest percentage of wins (.619) in the whole League. I know that this will change because they are almost never in first place. Which is why I’ve gone to the trouble of taking the picture.
I want to remember always that on May 20, there was joy in Mudville. For one brief, shining moment, the White Sox were in first place. In all of baseball history, the Sox have won the pennant only six times in the 120 years since they joined the League in 1901.
I come by my loyalty to the White Sox naturally – it’s a gene I inherited from my father and grandfather. The latter, J.W. Sullivan, was a die-hard Sox fan and made the trip from Algona to Chicago by train every year to watch at least one game. That was in the early 1900s when such a trip was a major undertaking.
In 1919, when the White Sox actually played in the World Series, my grandfather was there. My dad told me he remembered the day his father returned from Chicago, shaking his head and telling my grandmother, “There was something wrong with those games.” And indeed there was – that was the year they became the Black Sox, when gamblers got to some of the players and bribed them to lose.
Growing up, I spent many a summer’s afternoon or evening listening to Sox games on the radio. Television was in its infancy then and the only sport it covered was professional wrestling, which I remember watching once at a neighbor’s house, wondering the whole time why they were wrestling in a snowstorm. Early TV reception was pretty terrible.
Back then I could name every player on the team, such was my devotion. Years later when I worked at the newspaper, our then-sports editor, James Drew, was hugely impressed when I correctly guessed that his male dog, Nellie, was named after Nellie Fox, whose White Sox playing days were in the ’50s.
I’ll save the clipping from May 20 to warm my disappointed (again!) heart when the White Sox begin their inevitable descent towards the cellar.
Unless . . . maybe this year will be different.
Hope, after all, does spring eternal.