Chicago, come on now. Is that how we celebrate a World Series victory? Is that how we properly express our joy over a four-game sweep? Is that how we exult and delight in ending 87 years of misery and heartache and finally exorcising the demons of seasons past? Pathetic.
You call that a World Series celebration? Where were the Colombian soccer jerseys? Where were the goggles? Where were the painfully white boys with no rhythm (*ahem* JD, *ahem* Tek) singing off-key to Eminem? Where were the drunken interviews with your frat boy GM? Where, for the love of god, were the handshakes? That’s all you’ve got to give us? Jermaine Dye? Oy. Maybe there’s a reason that until last night, the White Sox hadn’t won a World Series in a billion years. Lack of interest? I mean, if the team can’t get it up enough to have a proper celebration, what are you gonna do?
You’d have thought at least Ozzie Guillen would be good for some insanity as he definitely knows from crazy and I swear to you, I’ve never understood a single word that man has said. But he stalked around the field like Bill Belichick. Where’s the fire, Ozzie? Where’s the passion? Where’s the madness? “Goddamit, why’d it take us four whole games? You bastards are lazy. LAZY! I’m’a go after your families if you don’t step it up.” I expected him to come riding out of the tunnel on an elephant draped with a White Sox flag.
No one even seemed drunk. Surely that is not right.
I’m sure the Chicago fans had the time of their lives. I’m sure they ran through the streets and knocked shit over and danced and partied all night long. And good for them, they deserved it. But the players, man, the players just didn’t seem all that excited. Now, I know the whole “act like you’ve been here before” chestnut, but the thing is, they haven’t. The fans haven’t and certainly none of the players have. Live it up.
The Chicago Tribune details a rally and a parade and good, the fans should enjoy it. But Paul Konerko probably won’t steer a duck boat down the Illinois River. And Scott Podsednik most likely will not be holding a sign that says, “Vladimir is playing golf today. This is better.” And there will most definitely be a shortage of the double finger points.
Look, I am fully aware of what I’m doing. I’m comparing the White Sox of this year to the Red Sox of last year and they fall short. But, if we’re being honest with ourselves, every team from here until the end of time is going to fail miserably when compared to last year’s Red Sox team. This year’s Red Sox team had nothing on last year’s team. They were wonderful and fun and insane and infuriating and ecstatic and addictive and surreal at the time and they’ve only grown more so as time has passed.
This is what we do as fans, we romanticize the good times. We talk about them and build them up and embellish them and our memories become gold-tinted and sun-dappled. We forget about the bad times and revel in the good. Maybe Neil Diamond is onto something after all. “Good times never seemed so good.”
So my point, I guess, is this: If you’re a White Sox fan, live it up. A time like this may never come again. And if you’re a White Sox player, same goes for you. A little Eminem karaoke never hurt anyone.
Congratulations to the White Sox and their fans. It’s great, ain’t it?