Chicago -
By Roger Wallenstein
We were children just learning the game. Going to the ballpark thrilled us with the greenest grass we’d ever seen along with scents of hot dogs and beer and peanuts. The lights turned night into day, and the huge scoreboard kept us apprised of what was happening in stadiums far away as we sang “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” with the organ providing the background.
And then the gifted Miñoso came into our lives and quickly captured our hearts.
Posted on December 9, 2021
By Roger Wallenstein
As the Houston Astros were idled Monday by the rain that delayed Game 4 of the ALDS, we can assume that Dusty Baker and his charges couldn’t have been seen at Navy Pier or the Art Institute. Looking for them at other tourist attractions like the Shedd or the Museum of Science and Industry would have proved fruitless.
What we can assume is that wherever those athletes spent the day, the words about “sketchy stuff” uttered by Sox reliever Ryan Tepera were ringing in their ears. The profanity-laden chants aimed at José Altuve by thousands of Sox diehards throughout Sunday’s rousing 12-6 White Sox triumph were still echoing in their heads.
As if the visitors needed any additional motivation.
Posted on October 13, 2021
By Roger Wallenstein
According to FiveThirtyEight, the White Sox’ 24 losses in 42 games decided by one run this season threaten to sideline our South Side ballclub in its post-season quest even before it begins Thursday in Houston. The prognostication website gives the Sox just an eight percent chance of flying a World Series championship banner for 2021 at The Grate. That’s like 25 tries and two successes.
Meanwhile, the Astros are given a 12 percent rating to go all the way. Is Houston really four percentage points better than Tony La Russa’s talented outfit? This requires further examination.
Posted on October 5, 2021
By Roger Wallenstein
If it’s a presidential term, the days, weeks and years can seem interminable. Conversely, a high school career tends to fly by in a flash. If a college kid has the means and the desire, he or she can stretch out the tenure for another year or more.
Four years. For aficionados of a ballclub that launches into a rebuild, the early years move at a snail’s pace, and if not properly conceived along with good fortune, a successful ending never materializes. Not so for the newly crowned AL Central Division champion White Sox. The process, while not totally linear, has a distinct pattern. Ninety-five losses four years ago followed by 100 and 89 the next two seasons before earning a wild card playoff berth a year ago.
And now, according to plan, the division flag can be flown for the first time in 13 years.
At the risk of reminding us of the struggle and ineptitude of that initial rebuilding year, our memories also are refreshed by the promise of the future. Looking back on this weekly White Sox Report, we must start at the beginning.
Posted on September 27, 2021
By Roger Wallenstein
The sign resided at the oldest ballpark in the country, Birmingham’s Rickwood Field, built in 1910 and the former home both of the Birmingham Black Barons and the (white) Barons. Perhaps it was a vestige of the Black Sox scandal, but the message pretty much resonated in major and minor league stadiums throughout the country for decades. So much for ancient history.
Over the weekend, the Sun-Times reported on the employment of John R. Daley by the White Sox as a lobbyist to promote legislation that will permit a sportsbooks at The Grate, home of the playoff-bound ballclub on the South Side.
The name resonates in a city run by the Daleys for 43 of the 55 years between 1955 and 2011. This Daley is the nephew of Richie and grandson of Old Man Daley. Naturally.
The paper reports that 11th Ward (home of the White Sox) Ald. Patrick Daley Thompson is “supportive . . . of sports betting at stadiums and arenas.” The same Patrick Daley Thompson who has been indicted for failure to pay back a $219,000 loan from a now-defunct bank although he allegedly deducted the interest on his income tax returns. If true, what a bad boy.
Posted on September 20, 2021
By Roger Wallenstein
Bless their hearts, these wonderful White Sox. Before addressing the athletes on the field, let’s first focus attention on our hosts, the folks who run operations at Guaranteed Rate Field, or, as it is commonly known here at the Beachwood, The Grate.
My wife and I managed to witness two of last weekend’s closely fought games against the Red Sox – the 4-3 nail-biter on Friday night and Sunday’s tension-filled 2-1 triumph on Leury García’s unexpected, but more than welcome, walkoff four-bagger.
We’ve probably been to 20 games this season, which might be one reason why my inbox on Saturday morning included a survey sent by the White Sox querying me about my fan experience on Friday. My Saturday mornings are extremely busy with box scores to be scrutinized, a check of the injury list to see which Sox players will be sidelined for the next 10 days, and a perusal of the usual litany of slings and arrows aimed at Tony La Russa on social media. However, I took 10 minutes out of my frenzied morning to fill out the survey.
Posted on September 13, 2021
By Roger Wallenstein
For some inexplicable reason, that song from Rent keeps repeating itself inside my head. You know, the one about 525,600 minutes in a year. “Seasons of Love” for the uninformed.
I do like the song and wish I could just leave it at that until the lyrics and tune run their course and abandon my consciousness, going back to wherever they came from. However, the fortunes of our favorite South Side team have interfered.
With 28 days left in this 2021 regular season, even with a 9½-game bulge in the American League’s Central Division, the White Sox have more question marks than certainties. I suspect I’m not alone wishing that this lovely September will pass by quickly so that we can find out the answers.
Posted on September 6, 2021
By Roger Wallenstein
Pitchers are odd creatures who have chosen an exceptionally challenging and difficult task. We ask them to hurl an approximately five-ounce sphere with a circumference of about nine inches up to 100 miles per hour with accuracy and movement. Some attempt to perfect a more leisurely approach of dips and curves at a slower speed, all destined to trick the foe into a mind game of guessing.
A batter stands at home plate every other inning or maybe once in three innings. No such luxury for the poor pitchers. Nothing happens until the ball leaves their hand either from the right or left side. Whether the ball winds up in the catcher’s mitt for strike three or in the centerfield bleachers, there always is another batter striding to home plate. The job is not to be envied.
Last weekend’s three-game series between the Cubs and Sox portrayed this drama with clarity and suspense. The Cubs’ Alec Mills and the Sox’s Reynaldo Lopez excelled at the craft of major league pitching. Mills used an assortment of slow stuff Saturday for 8⅓ innings, blanking the team that had scored 17 times 12 hours earlier. Lopez transformed the game on Friday night by retiring all 14 hitters he faced. The enforced moratorium enabled Lopez’s mates to slug the ball all over The Grate, overcoming what was initially a 6-0 deficit.
Posted on August 30, 2021
By Roger Wallenstein
We have to vent. Frustration builds up and boils over the top. An outlet is required. Point the finger at those we think are messing up? Without a doubt. We are human. Complaining is part of who are.
Of course, there are those of us who go overboard by moaning with just about every breath. And too often the vitriol becomes biting, mean and nasty, or worse. As long as we don’t hurt anyone else, in the best of instances, a blustery dose of criticism targeting someone else or a situation should provide a respite, a taste of relief, alleviating rancor and making us feel better. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Let’s take the case of the Chicago White Sox, who, despite leading the American League Central by 9½ games this morning, receive their share of pointed criticism. After Saturday’s 8-4 loss to Tampa Bay at the ballpark they call The Trop – it should be The Flop – left-handed pitcher Dallas Keuchel was on the hot seat.
Posted on August 23, 2021
By Roger Wallenstein
Play catch. Have a catch. Doesn’t matter what you call it, the game was on full display last Thursday in Iowa.
I’m not sure just when humans began throwing a sphere back and forth in a friendly manner. Maybe a rounded rock was the first missile, but for our purposes we’re talking about two people, each wearing a glove, and a ball covered in cowhide secured by 108 stitches.
Playing catch, the linchpin for W.P. Kinsella’s book Shoeless Joe, which, as we all know, morphed into the film Field of Dreams, deserves more than a shallow perusal.
Posted on August 16, 2021
