By Roger Wallenstein
It’s just baseball, but I take these weekly communications fairly seriously. Over the course of seven seasons, regardless of whether I’m here in Chicago, California, in Seattle visiting grandkids, or in Northern Wisconsin enjoying the north woods, I have managed to string together enough information, facts, history and stories pertaining to our White Sox in order to entertain whoever chooses to read these words.
This week is different. The insidious, gnawing thoughts in the back of my mind as I write this, and as I tune into Sox games, stir an uneasiness which was foreign to me just seven days ago.
These feelings have little to do with baseball. Instead I’ve been asking myself, “Should I feel guilty if I become wrapped up watching a ballgame after a band of despicable people chant ‘Jews will not replace us’ half a continent away? How can I ignore what happened in Virginia in order to see if the White Sox can win a road game?”
The fact is I can’t.
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Posted on August 21, 2017