As the Sox prepare to clinch the division and try and chase a better seed for the playoffs, there will soon be questions of fan credentials and the legitimacy of your joy in the Sox’ success. Soxcess, as it were.
But fandom is really relative and there’s no one way to do it. It is frankly cringeworthy that there are fans out there that question when others decide to jump on board. And sure, there are cringes to be had when someone tries to fake a long-time fandom instead of just admitting that they are new. Some of that is just the need for most people to be right all the time, some of that is the idea that they will be shunned for being a new fan. And there’s no reason for either, especially because we all want the same thing whether you’re a new fan as an adult or one “from birth”: a reason to drink. No. We want a reason to celebrate. And some people eat their joy.
Let’s just take a look at the concept of having a more legitimate fandom than someone else. You can’t measure it by sheer length of time, because that means that there are no real fans among anyone who isn’t under a certain age. And there’s no way to define that without making oneself out as a twat. And where most people will brag “I’ve been a fan since (insert year)” the only thing that makes them a more interesting fan is that they may have seen guys play that you haven’t because you were naught but a possible outcome of a moment of pleasure/embarrassment between your parents. So when a fan says “I’ve been a fan since 1951”, I’d look forward to talking about ’59, or seeing an in-prime Minnie Minoso, or Dick Allen, or the Hitmen, or any teams or players that I was not alive to see. But does that make them a better fan? No. They have a deeper history, but their personal investment in the team may be no greater than a kid who only knows 2005 and beyond.
Let’s face it, too, that when you become a fan is also really something that you can’t compare between fans. Being a Sox fan from birth is like getting baptized or claiming generational wealth. You had no choice in the matter and were handed this by your parents, but at some point in your life you reaffirmed your faith, your fandom, or realized that you were rich because Santa was somehow way better to you even though you were kind of a dick. And that reaffirmation of fandom maybe wavered at times but came roaring back with a playoff run, or maybe life got in the way and when things settled, White Sox baseball was again a companion. Maybe it is a daily affirmation at an altar to Gordon Beckham’s hair. To each their own.
For most, there’s a point at which the sport and the team grab you. I grew up the child of a family of Cubs fans. My mom’s family weren’t sports folks, they were musicians first and foremost and German immigrants. I have one uncle who is a Cardinals fan and “It’s the year of the bird!” is heard annually from him. My dad wasn’t really a voracious baseball fan. His dad was a rabid Cubs fan, in that he was aggressively angry at the team all the time, practically foaming at the mouth. He hated Lee Smith. It was hard to understand as a kid why he was a fan when it clearly brought him so much anger, especially Lee Smith and Jody Davis. Later I realized what the Cubs were and why he was always so mad, and also discovered beer and that the Cubs were something of an excuse for him to crack a few. In that mess I had an aunt who worked for the White Sox and got me all the giveaway swag, she takes credit for my Sox fandom and frankly she’s not entirely wrong.
Really, though, my fandom timeline is defined by the 1983 White Sox. A product of late 70’s biological horseplay, I was a young kid watching TV when Julio Cruz crossed homeplate and clinched the AL West. I knew they were a good team because the TV man said so, and so did the adults in the room. Seemed like a good idea to like them. I was also a Northside kid, so in ’84 I was drowning in Cubs fever. But I knew the White Sox were also a good team. I had also started to realize that I was a Chicago kid and the Bears, Blackhawks and Bulls were my teams. In the ensuing years I grew to hate the Packers, the Yankees, the Pistons, Tigers, Red Wings…really the city of Detroit in general…and understand the rivalries in all the major sports. But with baseball I was attracted to the Sox yet smothered by living in the Cubs part of town, so I straddled the fence and followed both teams, and the league in general. I had a life-size Tom Seaver poster in my room and my lucky hat was a Sox hat, but I had Cubs gear also. I self-identified as a general baseball fan with Sox proclivities. It took me becoming such a fan of the game in general that I would follow all teams’ offseason moves and minor league affiliates before I really chose sides. As the 80’s wrapped and the 90’s entered I realized that the Cubs were so very Cub about things and the Sox were run like an actual franchise but one that was somehow always out of money. As I determined that the Cubs would always leave themselves shorthanded and the Sox would at least try and fill every hole (on the cheap), I made my choice. It has been the Sox ever since. And I don’t hate the Cubs…I did pity them for years though. You don’t hate on people who self-harm.
So am I a real fan, or not a real fan because I sat on the fence as a kid? Or less of a fan because I wasn’t baptized into Sox fandom? Or more of a fan because I started liking them in grade school instead of later in life? Does geography play a role?
None of it should matter. I’m a fan as much as I want to be, and not in a position to measure my fandom against yours (should we choose to whip our fandoms out).
And judging fandom levels is a very Chicago thing. As Chicagoans, we are often defined by our capacity for suffering and seek respect for that. When the Blackhawks resumed being competitive and returned home games to TV, fans who had put up with all the Bill Wirtz garbage for decades were annoyed that people were discovering the Blackhawks (and to an extent hockey) as they were suddenly more accessible and interesting. If you weren’t able to pass a basic test about the Hawks career of Éric Dazé, or understand how Jimmy Waite factors into Blackhawks history or have an appreciation for Keith Magnuson, there was skepticism or being labeled a bandwagoner. Same with Bears fandom not being able to make fun of the inability to replace Sid Luckman and name obscure starting QBs like Peter Tom Willis. Or Bulls fans who don’t remember Orlando Woolridge or the times B.M.J. (Before Michael Jordan). This idea that you must have suffered through the lean times to really enjoy the good times is a weird concept for admitting someone as a fan. Why not the more the merrier? Jerry can spend their money too. Their in-stand high fives are just as awkward. They can Tweet out highlights and wear the logo(s). Do all fans need to know Yoan Moncada’s OPS in September against lefties? No. They just need to be excited that the Sox are good and want them to win.
Mainly, fandom is really an individual emotional investment that results in a feeling of community. You’re a stranger to me. You might suck as a human being. But we can both wonder together if Dallas Keuchel is washed up before you carjack me. At least we connected for a moment before you left me bleeding and pantsless on the street.
That’s an extreme example, of course. Mostly the idea is that even if there’s nothing else to bind us, the common joy we get from our team gives us a feeling that there’s something bigger that we are a part of. The loneliest among us goes solo to a game and they immediately have something to talk about with any of the thousands of people they can come across at the park. For a few hours, they are surrounded by friends. And by reciprocation, that fandom is the only thing that binds that team to the rosters that came before and will come after. My kids will only ever experience Ozzie Guillen and Frank Thomas as post-game show guys or maybe as a coach. That’s ok. My grandkids won’t know Luis Robert as a player anymore than I knew Minnie Minoso. But me being able to say that I saw Robert play, compare him to someone my grandkids like, that’s how the team stays a team and a fan connects the generations. That’s why being a fan of a team is so great, because that fandom is this tremendous history tying friends, family and strangers together from all walks of life and throughout history. If in the afterlife I were to meet a fellow Sox fan who died in 1973 after 30 years of being a fan, they’d want to know all about 2005 and I’d want to hear about the ’59 team. At least we’d connect for a moment before the demons running our circle of hell left us burning and pantsless on a spit.
The Sox are a team that frankly should be a bigger deal. They should be popular nationwide. They should be a draw on the road and in the ratings books. Those new fans are not going to be deep into Sox social media pages and aren’t going to be able to say where they were when Geoff Blum went yard or Bo went yard or D-Wise made sure that Gabe Kapler didn’t go yard or even understand that going yard was really awesome went you roofed it. But they can learn. They can just know that the Sox are a good team. And maybe bide their time, and reaffirming themselves as a fan, investing the time and emotion that they have the capacity to invest, and being connected to us all regardless of who they are.
So yeah, get the bandwagon ready. And if people jump on, welcome them. Talk the game and the team with them. Let them wear new gear while you wear something old. Don’t look down on them because they aren’t in on some deeper aspect of Sox history or fan community. There’s room on the wagon. And, God willing, we’ll all be pantsless and euphoric by the end of the World Series. And no one will have died of dysentary two days out from The Dalles.
DALLAS KEUCHEL UPDATE
Go back one post where it was noted that there is a mechanical difference between 2021 Dallas and his prime, namely that per pitch Fx tracking he has a horizontal release point that is about half a foot longer than his heyday. That change in release point doesn’t seem to impact his movement, but his control seems impacted and combined with reduced velocity was allowing more damage when contact was made. After his September 15 quality start, his first in weeks, the question was whether that success, or Soxcess if you will, was a mechanical tweak or just the Angels being bad.
Pitch Fx data shows nothing different from earlier in the year, so Dallas Keuchel may not have turned a corner, he may have just been lucky the Angels were having an off night. His next start, likely at the Tigers next week, might be right back to the struggles. The good new is that the Tigers and Comerica can be a friendly matchup. The even better news? The Sox may have clinched by then.
"Mismatched Sox - The Extra Sox in the Basement" 