Why, hello there, part 3 (a/k/a The World Series)

Getting World Series tickets turned out to be about 20 times harder than either of the first two rounds of the playoffs, but I was pretty determined to try and see as many WS games in person as I could. Since it was 2-3-2, the first two games were on Saturday 10/22 and Sunday the 23rd. Much ado had been made by the Chicago police about the "security bubble" that was to encompass the ballpark, all the parking lots, and a portion of the surrounding area, where no one without a ticket would be allowed in. So, on Saturday, I took the El down around 2:30pm, and started down 35th Street with my "need 1 ticket sign." It quickly became obvious that there were way more buyers than sellers about. In fact, I didn't see any sellers, period. After close to an hour's walking around the 35th/33rd/Jimbo's/Princeton area, I headed over to one of the parking lots south of the park where my brother and some friends were tailgating. As I walked through the lot, still holding my sign, two Eastern European men asked me if I was buying or selling, and we commenced to dealing. $800 got me a 6th row seat in Section 534, almost behind home plate. Yes, lots of $$$, but when your team hasn't so much as played a World Series game in 46 years, you do what you gotta do. I sat next to the guys who sold me my ticket, and they ended up being the managers of the Croatian national baseball team. Ended up doing some drinking at the tailgate and just generally getting pumped up.

Game 1: Contreras vs. Clemens. A match for the ages. Well, it might have been, had Roger been Roger and not suffering from a sore hamstring, resulting in him being pulled after just two innings. Sox got first blood off a solo shot by Dye in the first. Mike Lamb evens the score with a solo shot of his own in the second. Sox slapped around Clemens in the second with 3 hits and 2 runs to make it 3-1. Lance Berkman smoked a double down the right field line with men on 2nd and 3rd to tie the game the very next inning. And who else but Joe Crede put the Sox ahead for good with a frozen rope to left center in the 4th? He was the MVP that wasn't for the entire postseason -- I can't argue with Konerko getting it for the ALCS or Dye for the World Series, but Crede's solid defense and uber-clutch hitting deserves to be singled out. Houston managed to mount a threat in the 8th inning, with a leadoff double by the pesky Willie Tavares off of Contreras and then a clutch base hit by Berkman off reliever Neal Cotts to put men on first and third with no outs. I definitely had visions of the Sox blowing this one, given Houston's tough bats. But no, the Sox's 'pen would hold: Cotts Ks Ensberg. Then he Ks Lamb. Ozzie, despite my wishes to keep Cotts in, brings in Jenks to face Bagwell. Jenks threw 6 pitches to Bagwell, and I don't think one of them was less than 99 mph. Bagwell Ks swinging at a nasty outside fastball. Exhale. The Sox add an insurance run in the bottom of the 8th off an AJ Pierzynski base hit + stolen base (!), followed by a huge Scott Podsednik triple. Jenks stays in the 9th to complete the game, adding two more Ks to his tally and a grounder. White Sox win 5-3. So that's what a World Series win feels like. We all finished off the night with a beer at the Bridgeport Tap and celebrated, knowing that the Sox had taken the first one. At least they wouldn't be swept.

The weather the next day was about 10 degrees colder and it drizzled on and off. I had a harder time finding a reasonably priced ticket for this one, despite much walking around the parking lots and down 35th Street (and being yelled at by a policewoman to "put that sign down"). People were asking $1000 and up for upper deck seats. On what was a day more suited to watching the Chicago Bears than the Chicago White Sox, I felt like I could find a $500-$600 ticket fairly easily. Finally, at the hot dog stand on 35th Street west of the park, I found a guy who was tired of standing in the cold and the rain who sold me a Section 508 seat for $600. Done and done. It was only about 5:30 by this point, so I had a leisurely slice of Connie's pizza and a bottle of water, waiting for the game to start. We got teased by Lou Rawls singing the National Anthem, only to see the grounds crew putting the tarp back on. The game finally started about 20 minutes late. It was downright chilly and drizzling for most of the night, making it one of the more unbearable games I've been to, even despite being dressed for winter weather with 4 layers. Being soaked in both my jeans and sneakers definitely didn't help. The matchup tonight was Buehrle vs. Andy Pettitte. This time, the Astros struck first, off a leadoff homer by Morgan Ensberg in the second. But of course, the White Sox were having none of that, as they pieced together a 2-run rally in the bottom half of the inning with a Rowand single, a Pierzynski single (that should have been a double were it not for some terrible base-running by Rowand), a fluke/lucky Crede flare down the right field line, and an RBI fielder's choice by Uribe (that really should have been an error on Biggio, who muffed an easy popup in short right field). 2-1 Good Guys.

But, Houston wasn't going to stay quiet: they tied it in the third with Tavares tripling and then scoring on a Berkman sac fly. The 5th was tough for the Sox; after a leadoff double by Brad Ausmus (liner down third base line that hit Crede's glove before trickling off, allowing Ausmus to advance), Buehrle retired the next 2 hitters. Who else but the speedy, pesky Willie Tavares kept them alive with an infield single to Uribe that was just out of the reach of Crede. And the killer was a double by Berkman that easily scored Ausmus but also knocked in Tavares, as Podsednik bobbled the ball against the outfield wall. Had Pods charged the ball and really attacked it, he would have had a shot at holding Tavares or nailing him at the plate. As the game wore on, my coldness level hit new highs, so I spent most of the 5th/6th/7th innings walking around the outfield inner concourse, peeking my head out and standing for a batter or two in different sections before beeing shooed away by the ushers. I also got some really nasty coffee in a desperate bid to stay warm. The Sox had their chances, too -- a leadoff double by Uribe in the 5th that went for nought (the inning ended on the phantom pickoff throw by Pettitte to "nail" Iguchi, who was safe), Rowand and Everett on 2nd & 3rd with 2 outs in the 6th left stranded by Pierzynski. Nuts.

The 7th inning was another one of those wacky, classic White Sox 2005 postseason innings. I started the inning still standing between Sections 529 and 528 or thereabouts, with a light rain still falling. Dan Wheeler in to pitch. Uribe belts a crushing double with 1 out. Pods Ks. Iguchi walks on a full count. Jermaine Dye is awarded first base on an inside pitch with the count full, ruling that he was hit by the pitch. From where I'm standing, that's what look like happened; only on my El ride home do I learn of the controversy after the fact. The ball in fact hit the barrel of his bat, as Dye was trying to get out of the way of the pitch, which ran way up and slightly in. As Phil Garner goes out to argue the call and the Astros bring in Chad Qualls to face Konerko, I scramble back to my seat, thinking something big might happen. Little did I know. First pitch, and Konerko launches a no-doubter grand fucking slam into the left field seats. US Cellular Field is more nuts than I've ever seen it. Just like that, the Sox go up 6-4 with just 6 outs to go.

Sigh. Yes, that whole "6 outs to go" thing. Actually, more like 3 outs, as Cliff Politte pitched a flawless 8th inning to set the stage for Bobby Jenks for the 9th. It's not as easy as it sounds, sometimes. The Astros managed to push across 2 runs and tie the game in dramatic fashion, deflating the entire crowd in a major way. And they did it much in the manner of the Sox: by the skin of their teeth with an unlikely hero off the bench. Bagwell looped a leadoff single into center. Jason Lane struck out. Chris Burke walked on 4 pitches, a few of them very close. A little checked swing grounder to first by Ausmus to advance Bagwell and Burke. 2 outs. Pinch hitter and ex-Yankee Jose Vizcaino comes in and immediately rips one into short left field, and due to Podsednik's weak throw which was too far on the first base side, Burke comes in from second to score by a hair. Just like that, tie game. Jenks gets yanked. The strains of "Don't Stop Believing" played by Nancy Faust greet reliever Neal Cotts during his warmup pitches, and fortunately Cotts comes in to retire Mike Lamb, which in retrospect, was a huge out with a runner at second.

So, the stage was set for another extra-inning affair, it appeared. Brad Lidge was coming in to shut down the Sox, after all. By this point, I honestly didn't have any idea how this game was going to turn out. Juan Uribe pokes a fly ball into left for the first out. Podsednik manages to work the count to 2-1, in the process taking all the way. The fourth pitch hit the wood of Podsednik's bat and never touched grass or dirt. From where I was sitting, I knew the instant it left his bat that it was a homer. The unlikelihood of a guy who went the entire regular season without hitting a home run hitting two in the postseason, including a World Series walkoff, is just...mind-boggling. But I was there to witness both of them. If the park went up for grabs when Konerko hit his grand slam, it probably went to the proverbial "11" on Pods' grand slam. I have never, ever seen that ballpark more raucous, celebratory and just full of unmitigated joy than I did that night. Best $600 I ever spent, period.

Game 3 was the first World Series game in Texas ever played, and it won't exactly go down as the best game ever played, but for the time being it will go down as the longest World Series game ever played. As in, close to 6 hours and 14 innings long. Garland vs. the very tough Roy Oswalt, a matchup that figured to favor the Astros. And that held up for a while. Houston staked out a 4-0 lead through 4 innings, as Garland was getting hit pretty hard. But the 2005 White Sox did their magic in the 5th, knocking in 5 runs on 6 hits, including a leadoff homer by (who else?) Joe Crede. The Sox batted around, and Ms. Oswalt took out his frustrations on Crede by nailing him right in the chest on his second AB of the inning. What's a shame is that Juan Uribe almost made it a 9-4 game on a line shot down the right field line that was about 6 feet away from being a grand slam, which would have scored Crede after the beaning. The Sox couldn't make the 5-4 lead hold up, though, as Politte, Cotts and Hermanson all contributed to another run by the Astros. The remainder of the game, which felt like another 3 hours, was chock full of bad pitching coupled with some clutch outs. The Sox pitching staff walked an innumerable amount of runners, it seemed -- 4 by El Duque, 1 by Viz, 1 by Jenks (+1 HBP), and 2 by the game saver, Marte (!). But when it came down to the 14th inning and the ass end of the bullpens, the Sox held the advantage: Ezequiel Astacio, anyone? After a huge GIDP by Konerko to end a potential rally, perennial journeyman bench guy Geoff Blum blasts the most unlikely of home runs into right field to give the Sox all the margin of victory they would need. Chris Widger later coaxed a walk with the bases loaded to make it 7-5. Victory was theirs, almost. Naturally, the Sox made it interesting in the bottom half of the inning, by giving up a walk to Orlando Palmeiro and Juan Uribe muffing an easy, game-ending grounder to put men at first and third. Ozzie Guillen was forced at this point to use Game 2 starter Mark Buehrle, who became the first pitcher to win a World Series game and then save the next one. Mercy. That win was the dictionary definition of ugly, but hey, the Astros definitely had their chances and didn't come through at all. The W made up for the semi-lame night I spent at a north side bar called Mix, at least through the 12th inning. By the time I left, I really wanted to knock out the teeth of the pathetic Cub fan sitting next to us.

So, we're up to Game 4. Wednesday, October 26. The Sox couldn't possibly sweep this World Series, could they? Dunno. Kathleen and I were going to watch the game at Puffer's, so we first stopped at Phil's on S. Halsted to get a pizza (their sausage pizza kicks some serious fuckin' ass). We walked up Halsted, passed by two drunk women engaged in a serious ass-whuppin' of each other (like, kicked-in-the-head ass-whuppin'), and were told by the Puffer's staff that there was no room at the Inn, even though it looked less crowded than it was for Game 5 of the ALCS. I think the police started cracking down on the notable Bridgeport area pubs for overcrowding. Bummer. After much hemming and hawing, we decided on Catcher's on 35th Street, after the owner OKd us bringing in a pizza. It was really crowded in there, but we managed to get a spot to put the pizza down at a table under a TV, and we ended up sharing it with a lot of drunk, hungry Sox fans after getting our fill. Rob joined us around the third or fourth inning.

The matchup for this game was Freddy Garcia vs. Brandon Backe, which seemed to favor the White Sox, but Backe was very very good. The Sox barely mounted a serious threat (they had men on 2nd and 3rd, 2 outs in the 7th), but then again, Houston only did once, in the 6th inning, when they loaded the bases with 2 outs before Garcia retired Jason Lane on a high strike strikeout. The sole run of the game came on the milquetoast combination of a Willie Harris base hit, a sac bunt by Podsednik, and a single up the middle by Series MVP Dye. Closing it out was Bobby Jenks in the 9th, who earned his redemption for the blown save in Game 2. After a leadoff bloop single by Jason Lane and a sac bunt by Brad Ausmus to advance Lane to second, Jenks was assisted by two amazing defensive plays by Juan Uribe -- the first, which could be described by ESPN as "Jeter-esque," showing Uribe diving into the seats on the third base side on a high popup and emerging with the ball in his glove as he stormed back in to hold the runner at second; and the final play of the game, an Orlando Palmeiro grounder that barely cleared Jenks' outstretched arm, was scooped up by Uribe and thrown to first just in time to nab Palmeiro for the White Sox winner and their first World Series championship since 1917.

I had no idea what my emotions would be when the Sox finally won the damn thing, but they were really very simple: just pure, unalloyed happiness. After kissing Kathleen and giving fellow Sox fans some high-fives and hugs, I just stood there with my fists raised toward the TV above me, screaming "They did it! They fucking did it!" Catcher's was nuts, as to be expected, and I saw grown men and women crying, but mostly I saw an explosion of pure joy after such a long wait for this franchise. We spent the next hour or two walking down 35th Street toward the park, taking pictures, slapping five with fellow Sox fans passing us on the street, and then congregating in the light drizzle in one of the parking lots outside the ballpark being filmed by many of the local TV crews. World champs, bay-bee, world champs.

As I took the Red Line home and transferred to the Blue Line, I saw various Sox stragglers in various stages of drunkenness. When the doors would open at a stop, I heard faint strains of "Let's go White Sox!" and people whooping it up. There were a few overserved dudes on my train, causing much bemusement to those El travellers who were just trying to get to work or go home, but it was all in good spirit. At long last, Chicago had a baseball champion. And I don't think I even need to say how happy I am that it was the White Sox.

Congratulations to each and every member of the 2005 White Sox, and to Ozzie Guillen, Kenny Williams, Jerry Reinsdorf and all the owners and other workers who made things happen. You done Chicago proud.