It’s Opening Day, 2026. The Southsiders are up in Milwaukee, and the Cubbies are home on the North Side.
Let’s pray that smile on the sun sticks around into the late innings this afternoon.
The quote this morning comes from Pete Rose, and I get his point, but I’ve sat at both Wrigley and Comiskey during a winter wonderland.
I’m not too excited about my ball club this summer. Truth is, last year was the first time I didn’t go to a Sox game since the early ’70s. That says something about the product they put on the field.
A lot of people that I once knew never saw the Sox win the World Series. I was lucky that they gave me one in my lifetime. That’s enough to keep the door cracked every spring.
These days, I am more excited about Pope Leo. We both say the same prayers every morning and we both cheer “White Sox” towards the end of the seventh-inning stretch. Old habits don’t die, they just settle in and make great memories.
If nothing else, baseball gets us to football season. That, and grilled onions on a hot dog, are about all I need from the White Sox…
…well, that and a couple cold beers.
Gusto, astonishment, and grand slams.
Let’s play two.
