Tonight, we can banish that anguished cry of that (mythical) little boy, forever.
Tonight, we can celebrate Black Sox finally becoming White Sox. From all I have read, Shoeless Joe Jackson was a great player and I wish every player gets to hit what he hit (.375, with 12 hits and a home run) in the 1919 World Series, which he allegedly threw away. Look at his career statistics too, which don’t look like that of a cheater. I have been a big fan of Field of Dreams, both the film and the W. P. Kinsella’s lyrical novel. I like The Natural too, not so much the film (for reasons obvious in Ebert’s reiview) but surely Bernard Malamud’s novel. Shoeless Joe is a haunting, tragic, affecting presence in all.
Still, tonight, we can bid adieu to the ‘tragic’ and pick Paulie’s White Sox over all others. The tag line for my category ‘Not Cricket’ is ‘On manners, civility and all matters sport’. This White Sox team seems to embody that, evident in the way they won the World Series last year: with team work and strong work ethic. That made us all proud of being Southsiders. Even that rabid Houston Astros fan, Sri Kinra, would concede this to me and Sepoy, uber-representatives of southside working class! Their season, especially the post season was full of dramatic Hollywood moments but each moment had a different hero. How would you make a film then? One would expect Paul Konerko and Mark Buehrle, the quiet but reluctant stars on this team to come good but Geoff Blum, the former Astro, who crushed the Kinra spirit forever! They even made Jerry Reinsdorf look good and that takes something in Chicago. And for once, Jerry too was right. This World series means as much as the six championships that Michael Jordan won for us, if not more.
Tonight, we don’t banish the ‘tragic’ as much as we celebrate the hope inherent within a tragic vision. We no longer ‘wait’, holding on to a fragile hope but march ahead with faith.
Hence I say our anguished mantra is no longer: say it ain’t so, Joe.
Ah, screw all that intellectual handwringing and talk of tragic, hope and faith. Let us be fans and exclaim: yay, we are the world champions! You know what’s even better: we have a better team this time around. Jim Thome, Paul Konerko and Jermaine Dye hitting in the middle of the order! Javier Vazquez is the fifth starter and then the ‘phenom’ Brandon McCarthy doesn’t even get to start!
Captain Paulie said at the victory parade in November: let us do it again! And, now, he is back with his crew.
Tonight, we no longer hope as we used to.
Tonight, as hope turns into faith, we gather to say: say, it is so, Paulie.
3 Comments
Aww, shucks. That’s sweet. But it’s ASTROS, mon frere!
Yes, the season is on, and though hope always springs eternal, my expectations for an Astros return trip to the fall classic are… well, lukewarm.
ChiSox, on the other hand, are a beast of a team…then again, high expectations mean an insatiable (even unreasonable) appetite for success (just ask the perenially disappointed Yanks). Paulie & Co. will sparkle, no doubt. But the question is whether stouter bats (cf. Jim Thome) can make up for weakened defense (cf. the now-departed, now-Philly Aaron Rowand, who patrolled the gaps and alleys of nee Comiskey with gusto that would have made even Shoeless Joe proud…remember the midseason series with the Yankees last year?)
Anyway, that’s the glorious thing about opening day. Who knows what will happen, who will rise above expectations, who will disappoint? What team has brilliant bats and live arms just waiting in Triple A ball, waiting to make one of our current heroes into a modern-day Wally Pipp? What players will be traded, and spark a middling team to playoff glory? Will scandal mar the entire season, bringing back the days of Blackened integrity and forever tarnished reputation?
And who, ultimately, will husband the resources, the savvy, the skill, the determination, and yes, the luck (the residue of design, according to legendary Dodgers manager Branch Rickey), to fly the final flag of champion come October?
Hope lives, in every town, for every fan, that this might be the year. I can’t wait.
rk
p.s. Another great one for the Black Sox filmography is John Sayles’s terrific “Eight Men Out”.
I know it is ASTROS but I wanted Astros to imbibe the spirit of my NATIONAL Cricket team, Aussies! I don’t mean just the beer!
Haven’t seen Eight Men Out. let us watch it on a day when Cubs lose to A(u)stros!
On second thought, this isn’t like any other opening day. You don’t get to overturn Shoeless Joe’s ‘alleged’ legacy. You don’t get to regain innocence on all opening days, not in this magnitude. this year, more than ever, in the shadows of Barry Bonds, the Joe of our era and the villain of my new hometown (hope I never have to root for him or for the Gaints), it is important to say: Say it is so, Paulie.
Three cheers for the White Sox.
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