(See previous entries for the whole story)
The break they had between the ALDS and the ALCS seemed like it lasted forever. There was a rain out for game 4 of the Angels/Yankees series. When they finally played game 4, people began to ask me which team I’d rather face. My answer was, “I’d like to see them play a game 5. That way they’d both have to fly cross country, play the next day, use another starter, and the winner would fly to Chicago, only to play again the next day.” I got my wish. The Yankees took game 4. My dad mentioned in passing that it would be fun if he could come out here for the ALCS if the Angels and White Sox were playing. There was no disagreement from me. During Game 5 of the Angels and Yankees, my dad sent me an IM in the 7th inning. It said, “I’m booking my flight. Get us tickets for Saturday and Sunday”. I responded, “You’re serious? Don’t you want to wait until the game is over to see if the Angels win?” He said, “They offer refunds if the games don’t happen.” Alrighty then. I went online, found, what I thought were good seats for games 4 and 5, and prayed that the Angels would win. And they did.
Every expert went ahead and handed game 1 to the White Sox. The worn down Angels stood no chance. But they could definitely steal game 2 and go home with a split. Well, that’s what you get for listening to “experts”. Rust trumped rest and the White Sox dropped game one, despite a stellar outing from their 2nd half ace, Jose Contreras. The once scrappy club couldn’t scrap together any runs against Anaheim’s 4th pitcher, Paul Byrd. Uh oh. Was their dependency on the long ball catching up with them? Their pitching still looked solid. But their bats were looking pretty dismal. And when they slump, they slump bad.
Game two is the game everybody remembers. Well, at least out here in Southern California they do. It’s the Josh Paul game. With a pitchers duel going into the 9th, tied 1-1, Doug Eddings made himself famous, not by what he did, but by what he didn’t do. He didn’t call AJ out on strikes. You can blame the umpire for not making the correct call (Josh Paul caught the 3rd strike), you can blame Josh Paul for not tagging the batter just in case. Or you can give AJ credit for running to first. The bigger point is this. Had they figured out a way to get the next batter out, this would have been a non-issue. I distinctly remember watching this game at home and talking to my cousins Danny and Eric over the computer. After I got all excited about that play, they reminded me, “Crede’s up next”. Yes, my personal punching bag. I said, “Oh, never mind. At least we have Buehrle still pitching.” And wouldn’t you know it. Joe Crede came through huge. He drove in the winning run, salvaging a split and giving me hope.
I also knew that I’d be able to see both games 4 and 5 with my dad. The most likely outcome was that we’d see some good games and I’d watch the end of the series on TV. We both decided that the White Sox needed to win 2 out of 3 in Anaheim to give themselves a good chance at winning the series. Worst case was that the Angels would win all 3 at home and we’d be two bummed out dudes. We also knew there was a slim chance that we could see the White Sox clinch the pennant while we were there if they won all three. It would take something short of a miracle for that to happen. Like the miracle between Tony Graffanino’s legs? Like the miracle call on Josh Paul at the end of Game 2? Like the Angels ace, Bartolo Colon out for the series? Maybe there was something special going on. Maybe things were going our way. And maybe things wouldn’t stop. Don't Stop Believing, right?
I passively watched game 3 at home while I waited for my dad to land at the airport. I watched the White Sox score 3 runs in the first, as well as Jon Garland’s mastery on the hill. “Experts” kept talking about his long rest and how his splitter would lose its bite after such a long layoff. He gave up 2 runs, 4 hits and pitched a complete game victory. Just like Mark Buehrle did the night before. My dad and I were feeling good. If we could see one victory live, we knew that they’d be in good shape to win one at home. These are the moments you live for.
I had a dream that night. I dreamt about the games that weekend. My dad we sitting to my right and we were both directly behind the plate in the upper deck. I turned to my dad and said, “We’re going to the World Series!” And my dream ended. I wasn’t really sure whether I should say anything about my dream to him.
My dad and I got to the ballpark early on Saturday. We met other Sox fans and checked out the park. We even ran into White Sox GM Kenny Williams and took a quick picture with him. The day was much like my memories of baseball when I was very young. We watched batting practice in the outfield, hoping to catch a homerun. We walked around the park, figuring out what it was we were going to eat. I, of course, went for the nachos. As we were just settling in at a table on the centerfield concourse, a guy from WGN radio (AM 720) asked if he could interview us. Turns out, he used our interview to start their broadcast that evening. Cousin Eric got a recording and sent us a copy. Not too shabby for a couple of guys trying to watch history in the making. The game started much like the one the previous day. Paul Konerko launched a homerun to give the White Sox a quick 3-0 lead. Remember Ervin Santana from back in May? They guy who shut the White Sox down and earned his first major league victory? The same Ervin Santana didn’t show up that day. The White Sox scored early and scored often, as Freddy Garcia pitched a complete game and cruised to an 8-2 victory. 3 consecutive complete game victories? Maybe we really were witnessing history.
Could we really see a pennant clincher live? I thought I was asking for a lot when I wanted them to win 2 out of 3 on the road. But a sweep? It just sounded too greedy.
We did just about the same for game 5 as we did for game 4. Except that the constant running around called for a stop at Starbucks. As my dad and I were sitting outside of the Starbucks in our full White Sox gear, we were getting harassed a little. A couple of paramedics saw us sitting there and as they got into their ambulance and started driving away, one of them got on the load speaker – “The White Sox will lose.” “The Angels will win.” It was one of those, “You had to be there” moments. But it was funny nonetheless. We got to the ballpark early again and followed the same routine – We stood in right field behind the White Sox bullpen, watching batting practice, and we walked around the park, deciding what to eat. Only this time it was drizzling. And I told my dad that he had to sit to my right. He was sitting to my left the game before. He had to sit to my right, if my dream were to come true.
There was no Paul Konerko homerun to blow open an early lead in this game. In fact, the Angels took the lead 3-2 in the 5th inning. I just didn’t have a comfortable feeling during this game. But the bats began to wake up late. There was one particular situation with 2 outs, men on base and my boy, Joe Crede up at the plate – I turned to my dad and said, “If he comes through again here in the clutch, he is off my shit list. In fact, I will write him a public apology on my website.” He came through. And I wrote him an apology. He was Captain Clutch in the playoffs.
It seems like a long time ago, but it was only ten days ago, I was able to say something else for the first time. On an unseasonably cool and rainy day in Southern California, Jose Contreras threw the fourth of four consecutive complete games for the White Sox. And just as I had dreamt it two nights earlier, I turned to my dad and said, “We’re going to the World Series!” My dad hadn’t heard that since he was seven years old. And I was born thinking that we may never hear it again. We went down to the White Sox dugout and celebrated with the 2,000 or so other White Sox fans. The team came out with the AL Champion trophy and celebrated with us. 5 days earlier, my dad asked, “Am I crazy for coming out there?” Now we know. You would have been crazy to have stayed home. We saw them win the American League. We were there. The two of us. Together.
--- To be concluded ---
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