"I'm Gonna Get Up in the Mornin', I Believe I'll Dust My Broom"

It still hasn't quite sunk in. Surreal doesn't begin to explaing how it feels. For the first time since 1917, all eyes in the baseball world are on the South Side of Chicago. Last night, from Bridgeport to Morgan Park, Garfield Ridge to Hyde Park, and Back of the Yards to Beverly, Sox fans were doing something they (or fans of any Chicago baseball team) hadn't done in 88 years and 11 days: celebrate a World Series title. Congratulations go out to all the players, coaches, owners, and fellow fans. This one is for Bill Veeck, Luis Aparacio, Luke Appling, Nellie Fox, Sherm Lollar, Dick Allen, Harold Baines, LaMarr Hoyt (pre-coke), Ron Kittle, Bobby Thigpen, Shoeless Joe, Minnie, Pudge, Psycho, The Big Hurt, Black Jack, and most importantly, for Steve Perry, who had the courage to lead the White Sox to victory, refusing to stop believing.

The Sox beat down the Red Sox, Disney's Los Angeles California Angels of Anaheim, and now the Astros (don't get me wrong--I am still just as big a fan of the Astros as I am of the White Sox). They went 11-1 in the playoffs, which only one other team has done since the playoffs expanded to three rounds. Pretty good for a team who was expected to collapse at the end of the regular season and who, according to many "experts," was an underdog in the ALDS, ALCS, and World Series. "'Ozzie ball' will never work for the whole season," they said. "They don't have enough power," they said. "The [insert East Coast team here] are better and have more playoff experience," they said. And now, for once, Ozzie doesn't have to fire back a witty Spanglish response. He can just hold up that shiny trophy.

Never again will I have to argue with some dumbass Cubs fan about which team is better or which team has a greater tradition. Never again (or at least not until the beginning of next season) will I have to hear from some dumbass Indians fan trying to tell me that the Sox should just go ahead and lose so that a "real" team can make the playoffs. Interestingly, as it stands, the Cubs and the Indians are now the teams who have longest and second longest World Series droughts, respectively. If my friends who are Cubs fans all die before the curse of the Billy Goat is lifted, I will have lived a fulfilling and emotionally prosperous life (sorry Christoff and Gemkow).

For you non-Chicagoans who can't quite appreciate what this means to Sox fans and the City of Chicago, let me try to explain why a World Series title (especially one won by the Sox) is unique. First and foremost, Chicago is a football town. Everyone loves the Bears, and when the Bears win, the town is as on fire as it was back in October of 1871. Soldier Field is downtown, on the lakefront, right smack dab in the middle of Chicago, providing equal access from the North Side, South Side, West Side, and the suburbs. The entire city embraces the Bears (and, for that matter, the Bulls when they're good and Blackhawks when the NHL decides to hold a season).

On the other hand, rather than being located downtown, in a suburb, or even another state (I'm looking your way "New York" Giants, "New York" Jets, and "Washington" Redskins), Comiskey Park (I refuse to call it by it's corporately sponsored name) and Wrigley Field are entrenched within their respective neighborhoods. The Cubs and Sox have grown to embody Wrigleyville/Lake View and Bridgeport/Wentworth Gardens, respectively. Comiskey resides in an racially and ethnically diverse area of the city where generations of factory workers, plumbers, carpenters, cops, and firemen have lived (and are proud to live). Wrigley resides in a mostly white, young affluent neighborhood where the turnover is as high as the price of a beer at the Cubby Bear on gameday ($5 for a can of Old Style--are you fist fucking me?). The South Side is the cold shank in the ribs to the North Side's warm handshake. The South Side is home to the Robert Taylor Homes. The North Side is home to multi-million dollar homes. The South Side is home to the now-forgotten gardens of the 1893 Columbian Exposition World Fair and the stockyards that made Chicago the "hog butcher for the world." The North Side is home to the Steppenwolf Theatre and the Lincoln Park Zoo. The South Side has areas renowned for meat packing. The North Side has areas renowned for fudge packing. The South Side is Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf. The North Side is Liz Phair and The Redwalls. The South Side is Al Capone. The North Side is Bugs Moran (whose ass Capone kicked, I might add). South Siders fly out of O'Hare only when they can afford to. North Siders fly out of Midway only when they have to. Sox fans are, for the most part, blue collar, while Cubs fans are, for the most part, white collar. Sox fans go to Comiskey to watch baseball. Cubs fans go to Wrigley so they can call someone on their cell phones from the game to tell them that they're at a Cubs game. Many Sox fans have season tickets even though they can barely afford them. Many Cubs fans have season tickets simply because they can afford them. Sox fans don't believe their team suffered for 88 years as a result of a curse--just bad baseball. Cubs fans think a restaurant owner with a goat is the reason they haven't been to a World Series since 1945 or won a World Series since 1908.

For unknown reasons (perhaps the fact that the likelihood of getting shot near Comiskey is 1000% higher than near Wrigley), most people in Chicago are Cubs fans. This has given the Sox fan base a giant chip on its collective shoulder. Cubs fans hate the Sox, but not as much as Sox fans hate the Cubs. We were like the little brother who thinks he's just as good, if not better, than his older brother, and he kicks and screams to get people to notice him, but everyone just kind of passes him off as a cute, harmless little kid. Last night, little brother cold-cocked big brother with a right cross, giving every father of four who has lived in Englewood his whole life working two jobs to make ends meet the chance to say "fuck you" to every 25-year-old investment banker who grew up in Winnetka and now lives a posh condo in Marina City Towers. A White Sox World Series means more than just baseball bragging rights. Being a Sox fan finally means something beyond the corner of 35th and Shields. Trying to quantify what this means to Sox fans is like trying to quantify what getting laid means to a 50-year-old virgin. Chicago has a baseball champ for the first time since before women had the right to vote. And what makes it sweeter than a Maxwell Street Polish is that it wasn't the hard-luck, aw-shucks Cubbies. It was those bastards in black from the South Side--the forgotten team from a city with enough forgettable baseball moments to fill Lake Michigan. Chicago is officially a Sox town. At least for the next few days.