Every Year, a Miracle

By David Thigpen/Chicago

October in Chicago can be the cruelest month, and we're not talking weather. For 88 years it has been a final resting place for the World Series dreams of both the White Sox and Cubs, an epically painful calendar of defeat pockmarked by Bartman (the dopey fan who may have cost the Cubs the pennant in 2003) and the "Black Sox" (the team that threw the 1919 Series). The record had been equaled only by the Boston Red Sox, whose curse-crushing triumph last year proved that nobody can lose forever. So as the White Sox legions watched their team's opening games against the hungry Houston Astros, appearing in their first Series, one question was surely burning in the collective consciousness of the Sox faithful: Can hell freeze over once again, before Lake Michigan does?

In a sense it already has. Third baseman Joe Crede put his finger on the admixture of joy and disbelief swirling over this Series city: "It's weird that it is happening here in Chicago--and I'm part of the team!" The Sox ended on top of the American League after an amazing and strange season in which the team--a reconstruction project peopled by retreads and castoffs from four countries--earned every bit of its glory. The Sox notched a league-best 99 victories and held first place from opening day. In the play-offs, the Pale Hose swatted the defending world champion Red Sox in three straight and went on to crush the musclebound Angels in five. That's the amazing part.

The strange part is Ozzie Guillen, the first manager to take a Chicago team to the World Series in nearly a half-century. The former Sox shortstop's big-league managerial experience is no broader than a pinstripe, and the Venezuelan native loathes Chicago's chilly weather. But his loose, informal style and perpetual-motion machine of a mouth have proved ideal for rallying a squad of talented but unfocused also-rans in search of an identity.

And oh, what a mouth. On any given day, anyone within earshot is likely to get treated to an Ozzie-style peroration on such subjects as Hugo Chavez, the Pope, Elian Gonzalez, why Ozzie shouldn't have to stand in line to get his U.S. citizenship papers, and how he would be just as content to be somewhere else, fishing. Ozzie told a local newspaper during a late-season slump, "We stink!" A few days later, he added, "Good thing my players don't listen to what I was saying to the media." But his players compete hard for him. "Guys want to play for him," says Sox reliever Cliff Politte. "In his office or on the airplane, he's the same guy you see out here."

Despite the occasional verbal error, Ozzie displayed the skills of a seasoned tactician in rebuilding the Sox roster around pitching, speed and defense, rather than power hitting. He had to, given cheapskate owner Jerry Reinsdorf's player payroll of $75 million this year, 13th among the 30 teams in the league. Out went sluggers Magglio Ordonez and Carlos Lee. In came speedy outfielders Jermaine Dye and Scott Podsednik, a career minor leaguer, as well as catcher A.J. Pierzynski, whose abrasive personality produces sparks on the field. Pitchers Freddy Garcia and Jose Contreras were acquired last year, and with starters Mark Buehrle and Jon Garland have formed a postseason fantastic four. They'll have to be way above average against the pitching-rich Astros, which feature 20-game winner Roy Oswalt, plus legends Roger Clemens and Andy Pettitte.

On the streets of the Windy City, where baseball, like politics, is a blood sport, the Sox-'Stros series has divided the city anew. The North Side Cubbies have always laid claim to the soul of Chicago in a way the South Siders could never match. They play, badly, in the ivy-clad splendor of Wrigley Field and boast alumni like Ernie Banks and Billy Williams. The anonymous Sox play in a soul-challenged modern bowl on a site that was once downwind of the city's now vanished stockyards. One poll found that 36% of Cubs fans will cheer for the Astros. Sox fans might well retort: Fine, but who stinks now?