The division series begins this week between the Red Sox and White Sox. I can't adequately describe the fear, joy, anxiety, and anticipation that I'm feeling right now. For Yankees fans and Red Sox fans, this is all very run of the mill, but the White Sox have not been in the playoffs for five years. Before that it was 93, then 83, then 59, then 1919, the year they sold out the World Series, and Hyman Roth's favorite moment in sports history. It's a very Chicago moment, but with it comes sport's only true curse. I don't want to hear about the Curse of the Bambino or the Billy Goat curse. This is the only one that matters and makes sense.
I honestly feel like I'm about ten years old right now, living in 1994 which any self-respecting Sox fan knows was the year they would have won had Reinsdorf and the owners not instigated a strike that robbed the Sox of glory in the year that their only rivals, the Blue Jays were weakened. The main question I keep asking myself is "Why not us?" Why do the big teams or teams that no one cares about have to win? The truth is that if I weren't a ChiSox fan I'd be way more optimistic about their chances, but with the allegiance comes the crushing pessimism and irritability.
I've been shooting my mouth off a lot here in the last week, and all I can say is that I really hope they don't choke against Boston. That would really make life unbearable in addition to the stress of senior year. I think after the game tomorrow I may actually go to a yoga session to get rid of all the negative energy that accumulates in the the body of a Sox fan.
All I can say is that this year has been quite historic for the South Side. 2005 brings the passing of Saul Bellow, the man who put Chicago in the same literary universe as Joyce's Dublin and Dickens's London. Along with this sad loss has come the justification of the self-hype Kanye West has been creating for the last year. Late Registration is amazing. All I can say is that what better way to cap off the year before the cold Chicago winter sets in than with a trip to the World Series? Come on, do it for old Saul, exiled from his own city and resting here in foreign New England.
Seriously, if they lose, I might cry. If they win I might cry. I'm an emotional wreck. A boychild. It's weird how my strongest sports affiliation can bring this out of me. Seriously. I've seen Liza on bad days appear more stable than me right now. Oh, and Happy New Year! (I know I'm not Jewish, you don't have to tell me. But I am writing my thesis on Philip Roth and dammit, that has to count for something.) In conclusion, I think I may pray tonight for a White Sox victory. That's how important this is. What is going on in my brain? Maybe I should go to UHS mental health. This cannot be normal. I can't focus. I can't sleep. The next thing to go is going to be my digestive system. And when that goes it's not pretty. I think that's a nice image to end on. Good night, and good luck.
