It’s been so long, I’d almost forgotten about that unique moment when a fan totally commits to a team. Understand, I’m not referring to a fan’s usual allegiance, impassioned though that may be, but to the deeper feeling that a team is going somewhere and taking the fan along with it, for better or–as is usually the case in Chicago–for worse. The Cubs certainly offered fans a joyous and successful season in 1998. With Sammy Sosa hitting 66 homers, Kerry Wood striking out 20 in a game, and Rod Beck claiming saves with that swinging arm and pirate’s posture on the mound, what was not to like?–unless, of course, one was a stereotypical, dyed-in-the-wool Sox fan of the sort who thinks of the Cubs losing and the Sox winning as “taking two” for the day. Yet that Cubs team of overachievers never had the talent to challenge the likes of the Atlanta Braves, who wound up sweeping them in their first-round playoff series. They were more of a diversion–a plaything, a midsummer dream–than a real test of one’s commitment. The Bulls of the 90s, on the other hand, were so good for so long it was hard to recall that moment, back in the late 80s, when they first roused a fan’s commitment. Besides, they rarely tested it, only rewarded it. What was the risk in being a Bulls fan during their dynasty?
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This all comes to mind because that kind of commitment to the White Sox was notably absent in the early going this season. The Sox might have pulled out in front of the Cleveland Indians, but the fans held back. As I’ve mentioned, this was in part because this year’s Sox, talented as they are, are sort of a chilly, distant bunch. Their brawl with the Detroit Tigers aside, they’ve concentrated on taking care of business rather than arousing emotions. It’s a new stance for the Sox, whose fan-favorite teams of the past have usually been made up of overachieving characters, like the 1977 South Side Hit Men and the more talented but flawed 1983 Winning Ugly squad, and the youthful 1993 team that never got a chance to reach its baseball maturity. But what I began to realize, as I watched this year’s Sox stand up to the New York Yankees in their first visit to the new Comiskey Park, then take two of three from both the Indians here and the West Division-leading Seattle Mariners on the road, was that the taking-care-of-business approach fostered by manager Jerry Manuel actually offers more for the long term. The Sox’ miserable fielding and (apparent) lack of a big-game ace do not bode well for a short playoff series, when pitching and defense almost always come to the fore; but it’s not hard to imagine this team overcoming those problems, as they’ve overcome so many others, and surviving on pure attitude.
“I gotta hand it to him,” said one appreciative Sox fan on the train ride home. “With the pressure on, he came through.”
“Hopefully, we won some people over,” Manuel said philosophically afterward. “We’ve got to get up for tomorrow’s game. It’s huge again.” The Sox were headed to Cleveland for three games and then to New York for four, and whatever Sox fans hadn’t already been won over soon would be. The Sox won each game in dramatic fashion. They beat the Indians in the opener 8-7, as Foulke gave up a homer to Jim Thome in the ninth, then loaded the bases with one out, and looked prepared to lose–TV announcers Ken Harrelson and Darrin Jackson seemed prepared too. But Foulke got Sandy Alomar Jr. to ground into a game-ending double play, and he burst forth with the pictorial definition of a shit-eating grin. Durham won the next night’s game with a homer in the tenth, with Bobby Howry coming on to earn the save, and the Sox just clobbered the Indians 11-4 in the finale. They went to Yankee Stadium the following night and clubbed the Yanks too, winning 12-3; Paul Konerko opened the gates by yanking an outside slider down the left-field line to score the Sox’ first runs in the first inning. Baldwin went to 10-1 by beating the Yanks 3-1 the next night, with the hard-throwing Howry saving the game by striking out the Yanks’ great Bernie Williams. Howry threw an 0-1 fastball knee high on the outside corner for a strike called, then threw another in exactly the same spot, but Williams got the star’s automatic ball on 0-2 to make it 1-2. A ball later, Howry went back to the same spot and got the call to seal the game. The Sox won 10-9 the following afternoon, with Foulke coming on to earn the nail-biting save, helped on the final play by a nice stab by Tony Graffanino, a Braves castoff brought aboard as a late-inning defensive replacement. In the series finale on Sunday the Sox just plain walloped the Yankees, 17-4, with the whole lineup, top to bottom, bashing the ball. The Sox came home Monday for seven more games against the Indians and Yankees, having won seven in a row and 13 of 14, putting them seven and a half games up on the Tribe with–get this–the best record in baseball at 44-24. If they can get through this weekend still 20 games above .500, says I, they can start printing playoff tickets. Then again, I’m a believer.
