This week my daughter turns eleven. Yesterday she asked me if I remembered what I did on my eleventh birthday. She also gave me a disclaimer that it was alright if I couldn’t recall that day. Since I was so old and it was so long ago.
“Sit back Hazel and let me tell you about my eleventh birthday.”
It was a Friday and it was a hot day in Chicago. Gramma CC didn’t have much planned, but she made me a big chocolate cake and bought me a new baseball bat, they were wooden back in the olden days.
She handed me an envelope at the lunch table that had two tickets for the baseball game later that night.
Gramma CC took me to the White Sox game against the Minnesota Twins. Old Comiskey was packed that night.
Richie Zisk hit two homers and my Southside Hitmen beat the Twinkies 5-2. Jorge Orta hit a double and Chris Knapp pitched a complete game.
Our seats were in the upper deck on the first base line and I wore a plastic Sox batting helmet that I bought at a game in May.
“How is that for memory Daughter?”
Not only did the Sox win that game. It was the first win on an eight game winning streak that vaulted the ball club into first. Unfortunately that year the fucking Royals won over one hundred games and the Sox ended up in third. They had ninety wins and ended up twelve games back.
That’s what it’s like to be a Sox fan, but that was still the best birthday ever.
“Pretty good memory for an old guy!”
“What was mom doing on your eleventh birthday dad?”
“Well Hazel, I didn’t know your mom. She was about five days old on my eleventh birthday.”
I think of that great 1977 team that went 90-72 and look at the Sox record today.
Today’s quote gives me hope as a White Sox fan. Someday, and I hope that day doesn’t come when I’m eating lumpy oatmeal in the nursing home, but someday….
…. I will be unburdened by the 2024 Chicago White Sox. Because what can be, can be.
I believe today’s quote is from either Charlie McCarthy or Mortimer Snerd.
Let’s get this week started. The last full week of the month.
Be astonished and ignore that man behind the curtain.
