Experiencing 2005: The Offseason

Looking Back: LL Bitmoji didn’t exist in 2005, but man, she would have loved it.


As the 2005 season got underway, and the White Sox were regularly winning two of every three games they played, I started to keep things — ticket stubs, newspaper articles — and I began to jot thoughts down. (I also did this in 1983, at the age of 12, but that’s a retrospective series for another year.) I started an essay after the 2005 season that I never finished. All of those writings have never seen the light of day, but here we are, 15 years later, so maybe it’s a good time to drag them out. Some of these entries will be full-length, others only a paragraph or two. But they were my thoughts and feelings at the time, edited very little in present day. Expect a new post every seven-to-10 days.

I have, stored in a box under my bed, a scorecard from a baseball game. I have many such scorecards from many baseball games, but this one is special. This one told the future. White Sox vs. Twins, Sept. 22, 2004. The Sox won, 7-6, on a bottom-of-the-ninth double by Paul Konerko. Our beloved Mighty Whities, as my dad was fond of calling them, were long out of it by this point, having predictably swooned in September, once again outdone by the Twins. Still, a win is a win is a win, and they must be celebrated. Across the top of the scorecard, in my dad’s block-letter scrawl are the words, “Wait ‘till next year!”

* * *

The 2005 season begins during the Hot Stove league, December 2004. I wake one morning, turn on ESPN, and learn that the White Sox have traded left fielder Carlos Lee, he of lots and lots of home runs, to Milwaukee for some light-hitting guy I’ve never heard of. Scott Podswhositswhatsit?

My first action upon hearing this news is to call my father. I do not make pleasantries, I don’t even say hello. “What do you think?” are the first words out of my mouth.

Dad sighs large, and I imagine him at the kitchen table, maybe just finishing breakfast, rubbing his hand across his forehead in the weary frustration that long-suffering Sox fans know all too well.

“Well, Laura,” he says with an edge of bitterness, “I can tell you this: I’m not real keen on spending $3,000 of my hard-earned money to go see that team.” He and Mom have been considering celebrating their 35th anniversary this summer with a large group gathering at the park; this is the $3,000 of which he speaks. I don’t blame him.

Then in February, Magglio Ordoñez, probably the Sox’s best all-around player, signs with the Tigers. I have been a White Sox fan as long as I can remember, from the moment I knew what a baseball was. I share my dad’s disappointment. I’m bitter, too.

* * *

Winter passes, and so does my bitterness, and even little of my skepticism. At least, I point out to Dad as spring training approaches, when they lose, we’ll see them lose in a different way. We’ve had many seasons of Sox teams that slugged eight, nine, 10 runs in a game and the next day are unable to scrape together a single measly run and lose 2-0. Maybe this year, they’ll lose 3-2. I am interested in seeing this new-look team play.

At a family gathering in mid-March, my parents and I engage in our annual prognosticating.

“I don’t know,” Dad says, sipping a beer in my parents’ basement, one corner of which has been dubbed The Shrine for its collection of Sox memorabilia. The collection is about quality, not quantity — a seat from Old Comiskey anchors the corner, and the only two autographs are from Bill Veeck and Harry Caray (when he was with the Sox, of course). “They’re going to have trouble scoring runs, and the pitching has lots of question marks. I think they’ll win 85 games.”

I shake my head. “I’m more confident. They’re going to be better than that. I say 88 games.” Dad laughs at what passes for confidence — a whopping three games difference.

“You’re both wrong,” my mother challenges. “They’re going to win 100 games.”

I look at her and ask her what the hell pipe she’s smoking.

My optimism eventually becomes strong enough that I decide to do something I’ve never done before: attend Opening Day. [Note from the future: Yes, my very first Opening Day happened to be in 2005. Was this unprecedented event solely responsible for the Sox’s success that year? Discuss in the comments.] I make plans with my friend Wally and consider myself slightly mad as I purchase the tickets. What am I so excited about?


 

Liked it? Take a second to support Lurker Laura on Patreon!
Author profile

I was born and raised in the middle of nowhere, Illinois, and have been a White Sox fan since birth. The first season I remember was 1977, when Jorge Orta was my favorite player. Was so broken-hearted and pissed off about the 1994 strike that I didn’t go back to a game for four years. Single-handedly brought the Sox to a World Series championship in 2005 by attending Opening Day for the first time ever that season, and buying my scorecard from the same vendor at every subsequent game (what, that’s totally real—if you believe you’re playing well because you wear women’s underwear, then you are).

0 0 vote
Article Rating
Subscribe
Notify of
guest

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

6 Comments
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Joe Resis
Editor
Joe Resis
2 months ago

You were onto something when you were excited that early on. Looking forward to the rest of this series!

Peter M
Peter M
2 months ago

loved this. Keep going

Lurker Laura
Lurker Laura
2 months ago
Reply to  Peter M

Thanks, Peter! Trying to publish at least a short one each week. Look for Opening Day this Saturday!

Ashley Sanders
Editor
Ashley Sanders
2 months ago

I really enjoyed this! Can’t wait to see what happens next!

Pointerbabe
Pointerbabe
2 months ago

Loving this Laura! I was just getting nostalgic over my photo albums of the last season and demolition of Old Comiskey. Even have some pix in there, inside of the current park while it was under construction. A much needed trip down memory lane.

katiesphil
Editor
katiesphil
2 months ago

Thanks, Laura. Funny thing – I started following the Sox much more closely when I moved to Chicago in 2003, but during the Summer of ’05, I was frantically undergoing training to get my teaching certificate, working, taking classes and student teaching in Summer School programs. My memories of the season itself are purely small glimpses. I was rarely able to watch any games, and then generally only parts of them. Didn’t even follow along too closely in the papers. I confess that I was barely aware of how good they were until toward the end of the season. I’m… Read more »