From today's Studio Walls feature on the Eckhartz Press blog...
It doesn’t seem possible it was 15 years ago, but on this day in 2005, the Chicago White Sox won the World Series for the first time since 1917.
Life-long White Sox fan (and Eckhartz Press author) Rich King was there, reporting on the story for WGN-TV. Here’s a free excerpt from his book Back in the Game.
Jerry Reinsdorf was branded as a cheap, money-pinching owner when his team payrolls showed the opposite. There were mistakes along the way—the Hawk Harrelson experiment, letting LaRussa get away. He angered some of his own friends when he threatened to move the White Sox to Tampa, but if the threat had not been made nothing would have been done to build a new ballpark. Staying in crumbling old Comiskey Park was not an option. If the team hadn’t moved to Tampa, the team would have fled to another city later or stayed in Chicago as a doormat. Now, we were aboard a World Series victory parade bus—Jerry’s plan had ultimately worked out. “Like Harry Truman,” we joked.
Jerry’s record speaks for itself—six Bulls titles, a World Series win, two new sports facilities and a record of philanthropy that has won his organizations numerous awards. All that is on the record; what he has done behind the scenes for individuals will remain undocumented by his choice.
It has to be pointed out that Jerry also grew up in baseball’s Golden Age, in Brooklyn of all places. The nostalgic grandeur of baseball resides not in Cooperstown but in Brooklyn, in the ghosts of the old Ebbets Field. He grew up dreaming of heroes like Jackie Robinson and Pee Wee Reese. Baseball is in Jerry’s blood; one of his biggest thrills in life was when LaRussa got him an invitation to dinner with Stan Musial and Red Schoendienst.
“Can you imagine?” he told me.
Because I knew the man and had worked alongside him, I never understood the perception that he only cared about the money. Seeing him in awe, almost childlike, talking about Stan Musial and other legends of the game, I understood his veneration and respect and how it translated to the work for his own team. I could fully understand what this day of celebration meant to him: just about everything.
Jerry saw six titles with the Chicago Bulls and played a role in the greatest, most significant sports dynasty in the city’s history. He was elated after each, for sure. There was no doubt that winning brought him joy. But it was the World Series ring that made him weep. It was the title with the White Sox that moved him to tears. Anyone who saw him that night in the locker room, at the parade, or at any of the festivities that surrounded the title knew how much he cared about this team.
With a victory in hand, Jerry could enjoy hugging his granddaughter amid a sea of admirers as the bus rolled through the downtown streets. Bill Veeck was there in spirit, too, through the team and his wife, Mary Frances, donning a World Series ring.
When I returned to WGN that evening, I walked through the doorway to a shower of applause, an unexpectedly wonderful ending to the most perfect day. I got a hero’s welcome for my job on the coverage; such praise lasts for about twenty-four hours in our business. Then, you move on to the next story.
Back at the office, I immediately returned to the grind and began putting my package together for the nine o’clock show. I wanted to bring the viewer into the moment, put the fans on the bus alongside their favorite players and coaches, and I was successful because of my amazing team. I was spoiled for material. Mike D’Angelo took the most breathtaking crowd shots—a joyous sea of black and white, ticker tape everywhere, deafening roars, generations of Chicagoans all celebrating together. I did not use a single word of voice-over copy for that show. The footage spoke for itself. There was no need to say anything, just the crowd noise and interviews for two minutes, the messy joy of it all without interruption.
The day after the White Sox won the World Series, John Landecker called his old producer (and future co-author) Rick Kaempfer and asked him to write something for him to celebrate the moment. Rick is a Cubs fan, and you can probably see a little bit of that in the focus of his poem, but clearly he is giving his kudos to the White Sox. John Landecker read this piece on WLS-AM radio that morning…
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the White Sox nine that day,
The Angels led one game to none, game two was slipping away,
And then when AJ got strike two, and missed strike three the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon all the Sox fans at the game,
The Angels catcher tossed Pierzynski’s ball out to the mound,
But AJ turned and ran to first, with outrage all around,
The umpire calmly stood his ground, achieving instant fame,
And AJ somehow found a brand new way to win a game,
The White Sox never lost again, and shining stars were born,
Each time Joe Crede came to bat the other team would mourn,
And he and Juan Uribe were magicians with their gloves,
And Paul Konerko was the home run hero we all love,
When Ozzie came out to the mound, he motioned round and fat,
And Bobby Jenks showed the Astros why he wanted that,
And little Scott Podsednik hit the home run in Game 2,
And the White Sox starting pitching was like a dream come true,
In Game 3’s fourteenth inning the Astros fans were glum,
Beaten by a former Astro named Geoff Blum,
And Jermaine Dye had a shining moment in game four,
When he knocked in the winning run, the White Sox shut the door.
And though each game was close and tight, the White Sox never feared,
Ever since A.J.’s run to first, they knew this was their year,
And now the catcher catches the ball, and now he lets it go,
and now the air is shattered by the AJ we all owe,
Oh, somewhere in this country, some fans are screaming foul,
But White Sox fans say let them scream, let them cry and growl,
Cause White Sox fans are laughing, and White Sox fans can shout,
The south side is rejoicing,
Pierzynski has struck out.
