A letter to the Chicago White Sox organization

Dear Misters Sox, of the Chicago Sox,

Congratulations on your World Series victory. I mean that sincerely, even though your victory meant the defeat of my Astros, the team that has squashed my heart into so many different shapes in the last 23 years that I don't even know how I feel about them anymore. Well, I know how I feel today: crushed. Totally crushed.

But I'm getting away from the point, here. If there was any American league team that I'd have beat my team, it's the White Sox. Seriously. It would have been nice if you hadn't swept the Astros, as you know as well as I do that they put up a good fight, but that the history books will only show that ugly "4-0" beside the series. You could have won it at home, but you got greedy. Anyway, just a little nit-picking. Sorry. I'm sort of emotional today.

I know that some of the people in your organization have been worried about me. Jeannie in accounting sent me a coffee cake and a Kielbasa with a little card that said, "Don't worry, 'cause things get better in a hurry!", and that was nice of her. But I can say in all honesty that as bad as I feel today, I'm still thrilled when I think about this past Astros season. Coming back from a 15-30 start to clinch the wild-card on the last day, taking the NLCS with that 18 inning thriller, finally getting to the World Series...it's been an incredible year. Winning the World Series after all of that would have been magical, but I guess it just wasn't meant to be. I'm sort of surprised that I've been able to accept that and be happy with the season anyway. Being an Astros fan, you learn to be happy with whatever victories come along.

Anyway, if folks up there are still worried about me and want to make up for the heartbreak you caused me, I have two easy favors to axe:

One, please make sure that your victory parade takes you by Wrigley Field. I'm sure that the squirming and whining of Cubs players and fans pleases you as much as it pleases me. Please shove the trophy in the face of anyone in a Cubs cap, and feel free to make whatever childish noises you'd like. Raspberries and nyah-nyah-nyah and such. You know you want to, so go on ahead. Those jerks have been whining for decades about their loser-dom as though they're the only team in the world that's known futility and heartbreak, and when they see the unappreciated White Sox hoisting the World Series trophy outside of their den of suck will make them realize that the city of Chicago is not cursed, not unlucky, and the Cubs are just plain ol' garden-variety losers. Ah, just thinking of the looks on their faces makes this all worthwhile.

Secondly, I know that it means screwing one of your own, but if you could leave that ass-clown Crede out of the victory parade, I sure would appreciate it. Just tell him that the parade is two hours later than it actually is, so he'll show up and the streets will be empty. "Guys?" he'll say, and then he'll realize that he's been had, and good. Hopefully, he'll cry. Whether this actually happens or not, I'm enjoying the mental image.

I would tell you to leave that blockheaded jerk ape Jenks out of the celebration, but I'm sure that he'll stay at home anyway, as he must be anxious to get started on his strict off-season regimen of 7 meals a day of chicken-fried lard and velveeta and then belching the alphabet. Okay, so it takes a pretty huge leap of faith to think that he actually knows the alphabet, but maybe Ozzie will give them a little more time off and he can learn (and then blech) up to I (I'm assuming he knows up to there already, since being in the wussy American league would have already taught him the letters D and H).

Anyway, enjoy it. I'm glad that you could overcome almost a century of futility to get the trophy, and I'm glad that that old lady in the stands the other night holding the sign that said, "I've waited 92 years for this" got to see her team win it all. I know that somewhere, there's some 34-year-old, skinny-wristed, music geek White Sox fan who's spent his whole life trying to explain why he likes a team that loses so much, wondered year after year why he sticks with this team, who today, feels happier than he ever remembers being in his life. I'm really happy for that guy, but I'm also sorry I'm not him.

Also, Misters Sox, now that you've won it all, I hate you.

Sincerely, and still an Astros fan even though it hurts,
      Reid