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my rant (long)


Greg Hibbard

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It is the bane of the Sox fan to naysay.

To criticize.

To doubt.

To disbelieve.

 

As much as it is the bane of the northsiders to be pie-in-the-sky optimistic, it is forever the disposition of the South Sider to be realistic. As much as every Cubs fan says "Wait till next year" every Sox fan seems to say "If only we had..."

 

What were your feelings on September 15th, 2005 when the Sox lost 2 out of 3 to KC? What about September 20-21st when their lead shrunk to 1.5? Did you think that this team would win the division? Win a playoff series? Win a championship series? Win a world series?

 

I'll be honest. I figured they would win the division and probably get swept or lose in maybe four games in the first round. I never thought that they would lose the division, not for a second. Do I deserve some sort of medal for this? Of course not. The outcome that I predicted might as well have been second place, because it was hollow. Empty. Another year without a playoff series win. Maybe another year without a home playoff game win.

 

But I needed to be realistic, right? This team didn't have a .300 hitter. This team hadn't pitched well in August and early Septmeber. They hadn't hit well since July. Their relievers were starting to stack up innings. Injuries were beginning to become an issue. Their record against the better AL teams was mediocre.

 

I didn't believe.

 

I can't say that I regret it, because the organization, the franchise hadn't shown me that they had something for me to believe in during that stretch. 3 early months of hot baseball? Seen it before. And what's that you say, Kenny only got Geoff Blum at the deadline? We needed Griffey! This was supposed to be our year!

 

Yet I stuck with every heartbreaking game, just like every Soxtalk member did. Just like every Sox fan did. I couldn't watch, but I couldn't not watch. That week in mid September was the most draining week of my lifetime as a White Sox fan. Do you remember? Every night I couldn't sleep. Every night my blood pressure rose. Every night my anguish compiled. Every night I would get taunted by non-Sox fans.

 

But we got through it. And the team got through it. And we got through it TOGETHER, Soxtalk. I don't care if you didn't believe they would win the division. I don't care if you didn't believe they would win any more games. We got through it. Together. Because we had to.

 

This was our trial by fire.

This was our trial of faith.

 

And you know what? Something magical happened. We got through it, and they got through it, and we were gonna keep getting through it. As long as it took.

 

But we finally caught a break. A break on a sun-splashed field in kansas city in a game the White Sox never played in.

 

Shoeless Joe turned the sun up while Kid Gleason and Pants Rowland distracted the Big Man upstairs and a ball dropped into play in front of an Indians outfielder.

 

Suddenly, something flipped. A switch. They say it's the little things in baseball.

 

This little thing was like waking up from the worst nightmare I had ever had.

 

Slowly, this team picked it's beaten body, left for dead, off of the ground. It dusted off the black "Chicago" logo on the front of its grey uniform and picked up a bat and a glove. It stumbled a couple of times while pulling itself to its feet on a Detroit ballfield, but once it stood, it stood proud. Suddenly, the script logo began to glow. It glowed when it clinched a division title five days before the season ended on that same Detroit field where we got one of our own onto the Allstar team on a last minute ballot.

 

The team began to do something else. It began to win. A lot of games. It fielded a C team in Cleveland and everyone cried "foul" until their C flight team took it to the Indians. The Indians would not win another game. The White Sox would not lose. And the logo glowed brighter as the calender turned to October.

 

And it didn't stop winning until they had pummeled an excasperated Red Sox team that looked like it was sucker-punched in the gut hard. They never trailed in that first game laugher where they gave their fans another gift, the first home playoff win in nearly 50 years. And after stealing one on a misplay by a former teammate, it went back to Boston and fantastically swept the defending champions, highlighted by an old gun returning to a once-immortal form. And the logo glowed brigher still as the team celebrated on that Boston field.

 

The team stumbled against Anaheim and quickly regrouped, aided by a heads-up play by a man who never quits. They did something no one ever believed possible. They swept a west coast trilogy. The four aces completed their games and showed the world that we had the best pitching staff this year, and maybe the most complete postseason rotation in recent memory. And as they celebrated on that Los Angeles infield, the logo glowed brighter still.

 

The team won its final four games the hard way, which is to say they made the hard way look easy. We all know that story. We all lived it this week.

 

And yes, the White Sox would never lose another game while wearing the glowing "Chicago" script on its uniform.

 

And the logo glows brighter still.

 

As we drown ourselves in celebration for the next while (I'm not going to set a time limit on this), let's harken back to the song that I mentioned in the title. Don't Stop Believin'. Sox fans, Don't Ever Stop Believin'. As a great man, Jim Valvano, said while cancer was destroying his body (but not his mind, and not his heart and not his soul, god bless him)

 

"Don't give up, don't ever give up."

 

Many of us did stop believin'. But now that we've seen one of the most improbable teams assembled to give us the best roller coaster ride of my life with the best ending possible, I have to say I'll never stop believin'. Never again.

Edited by Greg Hibbard
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Slowly, this team picked it's beaten body, left for dead, off of the ground. It dusted off the grey "Chicago" logo on the front of its uniform and picked up a bat and a glove. It stumbled a couple of times while pulling itself to its feet on a Detroit ballfield, but once it stood, it stood proud.

 

That almost reads like the script to Kill Bill. ;)

Edited by kyyle23
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