A beautiful fall day at the end of August. Holding my dad’s hand as we cross the street, seeing seas of blue, white, and red-clad fans walking and talking. As we stop at the corner my dad turns to buy some peanuts from the vendor, as back in the day you were able to bring outside food into the stadium. As we cross the street, my 1989 Topps Chicago White Sox cards in tow, just in case I see a player for an autograph, we arrive.
A glorious sight of a massive white building with green lettering, the smell of cigar smoke and onions filling the air. A feeling washes over me that there is no other place I’d rather be. My dad hands the tickets to the taker and we go through the entrance he gets me a scorecard and program. Together, we walk the stadium as we did many times before looking at all the merchandise kiosks of baseballs, hats, miniature bats, and posters. We walk up to our level right next to the scoreboard, the sounds of I’m Into Something Good by Herman’s Hermits playing over the loudspeaker during batting practice, and we get to our seats.
I soak it all in like it was the first time I had ever been there and then the game starts. Later during the game around the 7th inning, my dad says, “Let’s go,” and a wry smile comes across my face. Excited that we aren’t leaving the game yet, we go to the lower level. As we head down the tunnel, I can see the light at the end as we come out of the darkness behind home plate. Seats abandoned by their previous owners, only to be taken by a father and son. I always wondered how my dad knew that the owners of these seats never came back, only to find out later that he would watch at the beginning of the game and throughout to see if any seats were taken or had no fans at all in them.
As we walk down to the Box Seats I look at the gold railings separating the group of seats. We sit down and my dad looks over to me and smiles as he puts his arm around me and asks, “What do you think?” I smile back and say “Thanks, Dad!” I got to see my favorite players, Carlton Fisk, Dan Pasqua, Ozzie Guillen, then see Bobby Thigpen get the save. Watching the scoreboard light up after a White Sox win, fireworks going off, hearing Kiss him Goodbye playing all culminating into a great day.
When people ask, “Why do you like the White Sox?” This is the first thing I think about. A father and son, sharing a day and making memories with America’s Pastime.
Featured Photo: Fotogenocide (@FotoGenocide_) / Twitter
