
The
White Sox have won the World Series (if you're looking for breaking news, this ain't the place), finishing a strong run through the postseason with a sweep of the
Houston Astros. They won it in four games, each of which could have gone either way. They won it with the bag of tricks that champions normally win with - strong pitching, outstanding defense, and timely hitting. They won it by playing as a team, sacrificing and supporting and surprising themselves at times (anyone know the over-under for
Podsednik home runs in the postseason?).
Before Game One, Fox Sports set the scene for us with a five-minute or so introduction to the teams and the series. They decided to focus not on the stories of the current teams, but on the events of eighty-six years ago. The piece featured actors portraying the players of the
1919 White Sox, who were banned from baseball for allegedly taking a dive in the World Series, and an actor playing the man who, as a child, famously pleaded with Shoeless Joe Jackson: "Say it ain't so, Joe."
I think the focus that Fox chose to take for their introduction to the 2005 series tells us something about the power that baseball has in our memories and our imaginations. Baseball fans, very few of whom were alive to remember the Black Sox scandal, understand the importance of a myth that has survived generations.
We understand baseball, and we use it to explore the best and the worst of human society - we look at the story of eight players choosing money over victory, and we are fascinated by the tragic flaws of these very human characters in the same way we're fascinated by
Raskalnikov,
Hamlet,
Oedipus ...
And we hold on to the hope and the faith - we place our emotional connection with the boy trying to wrestle with the reality of unrequited faith. We plead with our heroes, asking them to show us the best in ourselves, not the worst.
Eighty-six years later, we see a starting rotation dominate a five game series with the Angels, we see power hitters taking outs to move runners over, and we see Juan Uribe diving into the stands to protect a one run lead. Eighty-six years later, Ozzie Guillen and his team of regular guys have given validation to those who have kept the faith.
This is why baseball is important, and it's why it has the power to resonate through generations and speak so strongly as metaphor. 1919 may seem like a long time ago, but it's not too long to still be seeking redemption.
And yeah, I'm a Cubs fan and I'd like to see some redemption for
the whole goat thing, too, but I'm enough of a fan of baseball and observer of human nature to appreciate the literal and metaphorical accomplishments of the baseball team from the South Side.