A Mind-Bogglingly Rare Occurence
A Chicago team just won their first playoff series in forever, and I'm feeling no emotion whatsoever. I really only hate the White Sox for six days every summer, during the Crosstown Classic. Otherwise, they might as well play in a different city. It's not as though I get some sick pleasure out of actively detesting them all summer. The reason the Sox draw so poorly is that most of the people who consider themselves Sox fans are by and large much less interested in what the actual team is doing, and more in being anti-Cubs fans--and as they don't show Cubs games on the Jumbotron at the Cell, well, the Sox are lucky to sell a third of the seats.
My apathy to the Sox is strictly due to the fact that they aren't on my radar, even though they play less than 5 miles from my apartment. This kind of lack of interest in the South Side ball club fosters the kind of bitter chip on their shoulder that one expects to find in an oft-ignored, less-beloved little brother. Do I add fuel to that fire? Nope. It just makes me ignore them further. This summer was slightly different because, as a die-hard fan of baseball, it was next to impossible not to follow the best team in the game. In a typical year, when the Sox are terrible, I can't recite the Sox's starting lineup.
My disinterest in the White Sox is by no means team-specific. Generally speaking, I could care less about the American League. The 16 National League teams provide me with more than enough entertainment, thank you very much. People have said to me, "Then you're not a real baseball fan, if you're only concerned with half the teams." Now, that's just nonsense. I am generally familiar with the top 2 or 3 pitchers and 5 to 7 position players on every A.L. team, but I couldn't tell you Ichiro's 2005 season hit total. On the other hand, I can discuss at length the smallest idiosyncracies about each N.L. club, and that's enough for me.
Though the experiement has occasionally proved interesting from time to time, it's come time to end midsummer Interleague play. The World Series was much more exciting, in my opinion, before 1997. Consider this: Having never laid eyes on the other, or on any of their opponents, the two most deserving teams blindly dove right into battle, representatives of themselves, their fans, and the rest of their league. It added to the impressiveness and excitement of those match-ups in a way that's lacking these days. I remember thinking back in 1989, "If they A's are playing this particular way or employing this particular tactic against the Giants, I wonder how the Cubs would have fared?" Since there was no way of ever knowing, such conjecture was not only enjoyable, but also made for great hypothetical discussions. From a selfish standpoint, a big part of the agony of the Cubs' 2003 meltdown lied in knowing that the Cubs took 2 of 3 from the Yankees--before we improved at the trade deadline. Interleague adds woulda-coulda instead of what-if--and that makes for a very different, and less enjoyable, type of debate.
Though I had a great time at both series, there was something ultimately unsatisfying about seeing the Yankees and Red Sox play at Wrigley. I always hoped to see one or both in an October series at some point in my life. The fact both teams came to town in July made it less special somehow. It was cool, but it was anti-climactic. I remember thinking, "Wow, we beat the Yankees. Who are they playing next?" It wasn't as fantastic as I dreamed it would be.
Finally, the designated hitter rule completely turns me off of the A.L. game. I'll admit that I sometimes get lost watching A.L. games. There's too much flow to the lineups. The games seem lacking to me in some subtle way I can't quite put my finger on. A.L. baseball would be much more interesting if the hitter were married to the pitcher, so that the hitter had to be switched for every pitching change. If you're not slotted cleanup hitter A or cleanup hitter B on an A.L. roster, the batboy will probably work up more of a sweat during any given game. Likewise, it seems like every A.L. pitcher gets run out there for 7 or 8 innings every outing, even if he is getting crushed. Pinch hitting and pitching changes are the only line-up tinkerings allowed after the game starts, but neither come into play in A.L. games with much frequency. If you were a platoon-type player or a decent pitcher, you'd be much better off on an N.L. team, because at least you might get a few at-bats or innings pitched per week.
So, if you ask me what I think about the Sox winning, I say, "Good for them." After all, it's tough not to love Ozzie Guillen. I hope they have a ton of fun now while it lasts, because as a Chicago team, they're destined to go back to sub-.500 misery in the very near future. And, they'll still be stuck playing boring A.L. baseball in that terrible Ball Mall next to the housing projects.
My apathy to the Sox is strictly due to the fact that they aren't on my radar, even though they play less than 5 miles from my apartment. This kind of lack of interest in the South Side ball club fosters the kind of bitter chip on their shoulder that one expects to find in an oft-ignored, less-beloved little brother. Do I add fuel to that fire? Nope. It just makes me ignore them further. This summer was slightly different because, as a die-hard fan of baseball, it was next to impossible not to follow the best team in the game. In a typical year, when the Sox are terrible, I can't recite the Sox's starting lineup.
My disinterest in the White Sox is by no means team-specific. Generally speaking, I could care less about the American League. The 16 National League teams provide me with more than enough entertainment, thank you very much. People have said to me, "Then you're not a real baseball fan, if you're only concerned with half the teams." Now, that's just nonsense. I am generally familiar with the top 2 or 3 pitchers and 5 to 7 position players on every A.L. team, but I couldn't tell you Ichiro's 2005 season hit total. On the other hand, I can discuss at length the smallest idiosyncracies about each N.L. club, and that's enough for me.
Though the experiement has occasionally proved interesting from time to time, it's come time to end midsummer Interleague play. The World Series was much more exciting, in my opinion, before 1997. Consider this: Having never laid eyes on the other, or on any of their opponents, the two most deserving teams blindly dove right into battle, representatives of themselves, their fans, and the rest of their league. It added to the impressiveness and excitement of those match-ups in a way that's lacking these days. I remember thinking back in 1989, "If they A's are playing this particular way or employing this particular tactic against the Giants, I wonder how the Cubs would have fared?" Since there was no way of ever knowing, such conjecture was not only enjoyable, but also made for great hypothetical discussions. From a selfish standpoint, a big part of the agony of the Cubs' 2003 meltdown lied in knowing that the Cubs took 2 of 3 from the Yankees--before we improved at the trade deadline. Interleague adds woulda-coulda instead of what-if--and that makes for a very different, and less enjoyable, type of debate.
Though I had a great time at both series, there was something ultimately unsatisfying about seeing the Yankees and Red Sox play at Wrigley. I always hoped to see one or both in an October series at some point in my life. The fact both teams came to town in July made it less special somehow. It was cool, but it was anti-climactic. I remember thinking, "Wow, we beat the Yankees. Who are they playing next?" It wasn't as fantastic as I dreamed it would be.
Finally, the designated hitter rule completely turns me off of the A.L. game. I'll admit that I sometimes get lost watching A.L. games. There's too much flow to the lineups. The games seem lacking to me in some subtle way I can't quite put my finger on. A.L. baseball would be much more interesting if the hitter were married to the pitcher, so that the hitter had to be switched for every pitching change. If you're not slotted cleanup hitter A or cleanup hitter B on an A.L. roster, the batboy will probably work up more of a sweat during any given game. Likewise, it seems like every A.L. pitcher gets run out there for 7 or 8 innings every outing, even if he is getting crushed. Pinch hitting and pitching changes are the only line-up tinkerings allowed after the game starts, but neither come into play in A.L. games with much frequency. If you were a platoon-type player or a decent pitcher, you'd be much better off on an N.L. team, because at least you might get a few at-bats or innings pitched per week.
So, if you ask me what I think about the Sox winning, I say, "Good for them." After all, it's tough not to love Ozzie Guillen. I hope they have a ton of fun now while it lasts, because as a Chicago team, they're destined to go back to sub-.500 misery in the very near future. And, they'll still be stuck playing boring A.L. baseball in that terrible Ball Mall next to the housing projects.
posted by Pat at 7:22 PM
4 Comments:
If NL is real baseball, real baseball sucks. AL has won 60% of World Series since inception (Yanks have 44% of those wins) and 9 of the last 15 years in particular.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
good point on the anti-cubs thing. can a white sox fan finish a sentence without bashing the cubs? if they win the world series , they're more likely to say "The Cubs didn't win!!" than "We WON THE WORLD SERIES!!"
also, isn't a white sox - cardinals world series a worst case scenario for a Cubs fan? who do we root for? I like the white sox, but can't handle white sox fans chirping all the time. I hate the cardinals (i HATE larussa) but i think cardinals fans are great fans and enjoy the rivalry with them.
It's still fake baseball, regardless of if they won the series under fake baseball rules. There once was a game called rugby, but they changed a couple rules, so now we call it football. A.L. baseball isn't baseball--it's boringball.
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