Whet posted a provocative piece on the divide between the White Sox and Cubs that couches fandom of the teams in a rather elegant bourduvian matrix. My final comment to the post may have been a little too glib, but I do think that there’s something millennarian about cheering for the White Sox. Cheering for the Cubs, on the other hand, is nihilistic.
I’m not sure, but I think the fireworks going off last night were some sort of preëmptive party about a Game Three win, a sort of glimpse into the future. Maybe it was kids who had to go to bed. Still, I enjoyed the game immensely. During the first part, I napped. I woke up with the White Sox up by one, and read/IMed until El Duque proved that he is still the luckiest pitcher in the world. Then, in the fourteenth, I SMSed a friend about the series, who called back. She was on her way home and couldn’t watch the game, so I did a play-by-play for her until the end of the game. It was fun to try and do that, with hardly any research on the teams done, as I’d never done it before. And it was funny to hear Joe Buck repeat me, word-for-word occasionally. Still, I think I got an adequate amount of energy and excitement into Uribe’s bobbled ball in the bottom of the inning.
Once the game was over, I fielded another call from a friend begging me to join her in drinking in Bridgeport. My clock read 1:59. Not only did I have work this morning, but I needed to be sharp to finish up my reading for pedagogy. I declined, but made vague promises about joining in on theoretical celebrations tonight.
What would a White Sox win mean? I’m not sure. They have certainly played the best ball of any team these playoffs, and I’ve had a thrill “watching” each game so far (one on the telephone from a wedding hall in New Jersey, one on in-flight scratchy radio, pulling into the gate just as Konerko hits his bomb, and last night in a Pancho Grande fueled food coma). My earlier secret desire to see Pettitte get a ring away from New York has faded but quick, and now it’s all about the Go Go White Sox.
PS: I get the feeling that if Theo Epstein leaves the Red Sox, the carmines are gonna suck for a long, long time. I hope he doesn’t leave. Barring that, I hope I’m wrong. Although I’m sure there are a lot of single guys at BU who are excited about the prospect of Epstein’s fading from the undergrad memory of local hotties.
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