Hopelessly Devoted, But To What?
Summer nights aren’t complete without a chance to watch our favorite teams aim for the fences and us to beg for those mouthwatering matchups ending in 4+ hour all nighters in which only one or two were able to cross home plate. It’s what makes the hot, sticky nights bearable and kills us with anticipation throughout each sun (or lately, rain) drenched day.
During the game, you wish it were an off day, but when the rare off days come around, it seems like there are WAY too many of them. (I’m beginning to know how Cubs’ fans feel.) Not knowing whether you’re coming or going; to boo or to cheer; to be supportive and go to games, only to be kicked in the gut in person; to possibly see both Dunn and Rios make highlight reel plays. Do you boycott the stadium so you can cry and scream in the privacy of your own home, yet have Twitter, Facebook, and all other social media close at hand to share in the moments with friends both real and cyber-linked?
Too many feelings, but only one option. We have to stay, to watch, to cheer on our teams. We have to boo out of love, scream with both joy and frustration, and hope that BaseballProspectus.com and the media are all wrong about the logical possibilities come October.
Yes, the White Sox are currently 52-54 with a horrible record at home in COMISKEY of only 24-29. We all see it, and are reminded almost daily of their miniscule chance of actually seeing the playoffs at 23.8%. We’re desperately trying to forget what’s written on the backs of cards and see only what’s on the day’s box scores, but that’s not who we are. Chicago baseball fans, (yes, all of them) are loyal to a fault, seemingly bred that way for generations. We refuse to let go of our heroes, no matter how slow and failing. Logos and faces, names of both players and teams are always changing, but if you put them in our stadiums and tell us they’re our team, we’ll be there. Hopelessly devoted, regardless of the outcome, and eagerly awaiting our team’s next parade.