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This one goes out to all the swing voters in the house:
White Sox Nation wants YOU.
If you're wearing red underwear (whether it be for Anaheim, Boston or St. Louis), if you get misty every time some commentator mentions what an emotional ride it's been for Joe Torre this season, ignore this. If you're part of that small subset of Americans who believe the Astros offense will sneak up on people this week, if you've been known to practice "the chop" in front of the mirror, or if you've just posted an update to your jakepeavyismycopilot blog, you can move along.
But if you're undecided, if you want somebody to love, if you need somebody to love, and if you're not borderline repulsed by the fact that I just did a little Jefferson Airplane riff, you should adopt the Chicago White Sox for the 2005 postseason.
| Who is America rooting for? |
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| SportsNation asked users which teams they are rooting for to reach the World. Click each league to find out state-by-state results: |
And here's why:
1. Ozzie! Ozzie! Ozzie! While Mr. Osbourne recently announced that physical maladies will keep him from participating in Ozzfest 2006, Mr. Guillen promises to keep rocking throughout the 2005 baseball playoffs. This is good news for those who enjoy gritty, gutty small, er, smartball (the White Sox stole 137 bases during the regular season), and very good news for those who enjoy the candid, slightly unhinged Guillen quote machine. (Who can forget his take last fall on Rangers manager Buck Showalter -- "There are so many different things he might be jealous [of] ... I was a better player than him, I've got more money than him and I'm better looking than him." Or his delightful assessment of former White Sox outfielder Magglio Ordonez earlier this season -- "He has an enemy. Now he has a big one. He knows I can [expletive] him a lot of different ways. He better shut the [expletive] up and play for the Detroit Tigers.") Which, under the pressure of the playoffs, is a trait almost certain to eviscerate and amuse.
2. They're true underdogs. I don't care if they do have the best record in the American League, the South Siders are dogs. Unlike Mr. Affleck's (what's with the NY Times treatment you say? Not sure. Perhaps your humble writer is still clawing for credibility after his regrettable, unexplainable descent into Slickdome above) red-stockinged darlings, the White Sox play under the cloud of a genuine curse (Chick Gandil, anyone?).
To root for them is to root against the 88-year tide of history, against the still-stinking superiority of Kenesaw Mountain Landis, and against the fact that the last truly memorable thing the club ever did was put shorts and big lapels on Greg Luzinski. Rooting for the White Sox is taking up for the damned, for the forsaken. It is noble, charitable work, and, as a bonus for the Chuck D fans in the crowd, it is work best done with one fist raised in the air while humming "Fight the Power."
3. The barbecue on the South Side is delish. I'm not saying you will make a playoff pilgrimage in the next 48 hours, I'm just saying if you do, then you will be mightily rewarded, especially if you visit Leon's on 59th Street.
