Why, hello there, part 2 (a/k/a The 2005 ALDS & ALCS)

OK, now, the postseason. Exhale.

I've been a White Sox fan of varying degrees of intensity for most of my life, going back to about 1971/72, when my family made its annual or twice-annual trek to see games at Old Comiskey (and Wrigley, too -- we were fans of both teams), so even making it to the postseason is a rare event. In 1983, I can't say I was a huge follower of baseball, although I did watch the Sox lose to the Orioles in heartbreaking fashion. In 1993, I recall October being the month where I was struggling to open a record store after being shut down by the Department of Revenue for operating a business illegally out of my apartment, so even though I did watch most of those ALCS games against the Blue Jays, my mind was definitely elsewhere. And in 2000, I was fully converted to rabid Sox fandom, a journey that picked up momentum around 1995/96, thanks to my brother giving me his season tickets every once in a while. So I attended both home playoff games in person with my friend Rob and witnessed the disappointment of falling in 3 games to the Mariners; not a good feeling. That single experience shaped my hopes for the 2005 ALDS against the Red Sox: just don't get swept, I thought way back in the furthest recesses of my mind. At the same time, I thought the Sox had the pitching to go far, but it was a matter of execution: would the Sox's bats show up just enough to win 3 before the Red Sox did?

The score after the first inning? 5-0, White Sox. The final score? 14-2. Number of Scott Podsednik home runs? 1. Fucking awesome.

Game 2 was a different bale of hay, entirely. David Wells, who never lived up to his billing in his one year with the White Sox, was on, and Mark Buehrle was not. At the start of the 5th inning, I was standing in line getting some grub and beer when Carl Everett dribbled a single between first and second. Aaron Rowand followed with a just-fair double down the left field line that scored Everett. "Hmm, at least they're trying," I thought, still stung from the disappointment of 2000. Pierzynski grounds out to second, putting Rowand on third. He claps his hands, knowing he's done his job. Crede hits the first of several bouncers right up the middle to make it 4-2. This is getting interesting. And then, as I'm wolfing down the monster hamburger I bought while standing by the front railing of Section 335 (Club Level Life: do never test), Juan Uribe has a very long at-bat, ending with a seemingly inning-end grounder right to Tony Graffanino. In a word: OOPS. I always liked Tony G. when he was on the Sox, so yeah, I felt bad for that most untimely of gaffes. But the results? I'll take 'em. Men on 1st and 3rd, 1 out. Pods pops out weakly to third. 2 outs. Tadahito Iguchi then won the game on a hanging curve thrown by Fatboy Wells, belting it into left center to earn his place in White Sox lore for-evvah. Well, only in retrospect did he win it, as there were still 4 more innings to play. Burly pitched great through the 7th, and Bobby Jenks came in for 2 amazing innings of relief, allowing just a walk to Trot Nixon in the 8th and a potentially unnerving 1-out double to Graffanino in the 9th.

Game 3 was in Boston, so I spent that watching it at Monk's Pub on Lake Street downtown, along with another 100+ rabid Sox fans. Good times. Garcia vs. Wakefield, a pitcher the Sox haven't had a hard time hitting. Sox take the lead 2-0 in the third. Ortiz and Manny lead off the 4th with back-to-back jacks, much to the delight of Chris Berman. Dye walks and Konerko slams one out over the Big Green Monster in the 6th to make it 4-2. Manny homers again to lead off the bottom of the 6th, and Ozzie pulls Garcia to put in Damaso Marte, his biggest blunder of the entire postseason. Single, walk, walk. Bases loaded, just like that. Crowd going nuts, with the BoSox down just 1 run and threatening to storm back. Enter El Duque, who proceeds to put on a fucking clinic in Big Boy Pitching, getting Varitek and Graffanino to pop out and finally Damon to strike out on an easy ball 4. Crisis averted. El Duque pitches 2 more near-flawless innings, and again, Big Bad Bobby Jenks comes in for the close. Sox win their first postseason series since 1917, just like that. So that's what it feels like.

The Angels dispatched the Yanks in 4 games, setting up the ALCS match that most Sox fans probably wanted to avoid. I don't think anyone forgot how the Angels completely punked out the Sox and swept a series in September at the Cell. I managed to get tickets to all 4 potential home games, thanks to some luck on Ticketmaster, Stubhub and my brother. Game 1 featured Paul Byrd vs. Jose Contreras, a match that should have favored the White Sox, but they came out flat, played some dumb defense (Crede double-clutching on Orlando Cabrera's weak grounder to third, followed by Contreras not throwing to home to get the sure out, and instead throwing to second base to try to get the inning-ending double play...with Vlad running), and were offensively put on the shelf by Byrd, middle reliever Scot Shields, and a shaky K-Rod in the 9th. Nerts.

Game 2 will likely go down in Sox history as one of the weirdest ever. The Sox score in the first inning due to a Little League throwing error by starter Jarrod Washburn on a routine grounder by Podsednik, when he lollipopped it over Erstad's head. Aaron Rowand doubles to deep right field to lead off the second inning, and heads to third base on a terrible relay throw by Vlad that gets away from the third baseman, and ends up getting nailed at home after being waved around by Wavin' Joey Cora. If he holds up at third base, he'd likely have scored on a sac fly by Crede two batters later. Angels score in the 5th off a Robb Quinlan homer. Sox fail to score in the bottom half of the 5th when Jermaine Dye Ks with the sacks packed. Joe Crede, unbelievably, gets doubled off second base with 1 out in the 7th on a liner by Juan Uribe to left field.

And then, finally, with 2 outs in the 9th and Kelvim Escobar on the mound, AJ Pierzynski swings at what appears to be a legitimately caught third strike to ex-Sox catcher Josh Paul (at least from where I'm sitting, 6th row Section 524). I put my head in my hands, only to look up and see AJ running to first base. Couldn't hurt, I guess, I think. After much arguing by Mike Sciosia, the umps still give AJ the base, and the crowd finally comes alive again. Pablo Ozuna pinch runs for AJ, and quickly steals second base off Escobar, who isn't pitching out of the stretch. With an 0-2 count on Joe Crede, he absolutely ropes one to left field, which to me looks like a home run, but, just as good, bounces off the padding to score the racing Ozuna. Complete bedlam ensues. The guy I've been sitting next to and conversing with the entire game gives me a slightly off-kilter high five that ends up nearly bloodying my nose. White Sox postseason magic: catch it. I won't get too far into the discussion of did Josh Paul catch the ball or did it hit the dirt, except to say that Josh Paul's an idiot. You always assume the home ump can't see anything that close from that angle and should tag the runner as a matter of course, just to be on the safe side.

So, with one Mark Buehrle complete game under their belt, Jon Garland ups the ante with a 4-hit CG win over the Angels in Game 3 in Anaheim, 5-2, spearheaded by Paul Konerko's 2-run bomb to left center in the first inning. Not bad, considering Garland hadn't pitched in 12 days.

Sweaty Freddy Garcia added his visage to the Totem Pole of Greatness with another complete game gem in Game 4 in Anaheim, one which featured yet another first-inning bomb by Konerko (this one for 3 runs, after a controversial non-call on a checked swing) and another controversial play involving AJ Pierzynski, who interfered with Steve Finley during a serious Anaheim rally in the second inning that was not called by the umps. Finley did not run hard all the way to first and was arguing the call while running, resulting in him being the second half of an inning-ending, rally-killing double play. The Sox wound up winning 8-2, so I think it's hard to seriously argue that the blown calls that game (also a pickoff of Scott Podsednik at first base that was not called) made the difference. But yeah, they certainly didn't help the Angels' cause.

Game 5 of the ALCS was a 3:00 CST start on Sunday the 16th. For this game, I went with Rob to Puffer's at 33rd and Halsted, my first visit there since the Boers and Bernstein remote on opening day against the Indians. Definitely packed in like sardines, but in a good way: White Sox fans are a great lot. The game was back and forth for a while. The Angels took the lead 3-2 in the 5th, as Jose Contreras pitched decently but not great. As I stepped up to the bar at the top of the 7th started, Joltin' Joe fuckin' Crede belted a solo shot off Escobar to pull the Sox even at 3. Joe.....Crede! In the top of the 8th, more Sox magic. With 2 outs and nobody on, Escobar walks Rowand with the count full. And who else but AJ Pierzynski comes up and belts a grounder off Escobar's body...Escobar grabs the ball and tries to tag AJ with his glove. The only problem? The ball isn't in his glove; it's in his other hand. D'oh! The umpires initially call Pierzynski out, but get together and overrule the call, correctly. Men on first and second, 2 outs. K-Rod comes in to face Crede, who drills yet another seeing-eye single up the middle on a full count, nabbed by Adam Kennedy but not in time to get Rowand at home. The Sox could have put the game away this inning, too -- Uribe walked to load the bases, but Pods ends up striking out looking at a perfect, down-the-middle curve with another full count to end the inning. Contreras put the team on his back the last 2 innings, retiring the last 6 batters in a row, and the Sox managed to put up a 2-spot in the 9th on a Konerko double and a Rowand sac fly. 6-3 White Sox. American League Champions for the first time since 1959. Puffer's goes up for grabs. Yours truly makes the full-color spread in the Sun-Times the next day.