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27 October, 2005


It seems strangely appropriate that a White Sox World Series celebration should include former Journey frontman Steve Perry. As a kid, Journey glory chords and heavenly Perry vocals were commonplace in the video arcades and primered muscle cars of my west suburban environs. Insofar as the Sox are so often derided for their working class fans with bad haircuts and clothing, who better than a mulleted 80's rockstar to sing them to victory and take part in the celebration?
I have long embraced my White Sox heritage, accepting both the good and bad. A number of my fellow fans are poorly educated, occasionally racist and sometimes violent. But they are also not unlike the people I grew up around. I don't applaud them when they act like jackasses, but I also find no reason to make jokes at their expense for having bad "chicago" accents and dressing in clothing that is no longer fashionable, if ever it was. They are who they are, and I feel especially pleased at this time to share this with them, flaws and all.
The players, no doubt, feel overwhelmed on a personal level, as well they should. Though they may never fully understand, their achievment means so much more. For people in places like Bridgeport and Dalton and South Holland and Pilsen and Summit and Gary and Back of the Yards, this is a source of unbelievable pride. This is awesome, wonderful and worth every heartache that preceded it. This is for the fans, for Harry Caray, for Jimmy, for Bill Veeck, for Nancy, for the Daley's, for Venezuela, for Japan and for every place people get chills when they hear Na Na Na Na. This is even for me. I am happy and melancholy and relieved all at once. I am looking forward to having it sink in more and sharing the realization with fellow long-sufferers.

Posted by JP

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