I am sorry.
I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner that the “WS05” patch on each World Series player’s sleeve actually must have stood for “White Sox ’05.”
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I’m sorry that up to now, Michael Jackson was the person most associated with white socks.
I’m sorry that the Tribune can’t own two teams.
I’m sorry that the National League never gets to win a World Series game or All-Star Game anymore.
I’m sorry that Illinois Sen. Dick Durbin must now live with the fact that the Sox haven’t lost a game since Sen. Barack Obama threw out the first ball at ALCS Game 2 vs. the Angels.
I’m sorry that Fox didn’t draw bigger rating numbers for a fun TV series like this. (What is this, America, a case of arrested development?)
I’m sorry that Patty Biggio, wife of Craig of the Astros, got harassed by a drunken dumbbell of a U.S. Cellular Field fan, which in turn caused a lot of Texans to unjustly think of us as the Chicago Wife Sockers.
I’m sorry that after the 14-inning game, Phil Garner threw a chair. (Phil needs to go see Dr. Phil. Today’s topic: “Astros manager seeks anger management!”)
I’m sorry that Houston couldn’t score a run in the last 15 innings.
I’m sorry that a good Astros pitcher and loyal Notre Dame man like Brad Lidge had to go through a nightmare of an October like this. (Including the USC game.)
I’m sorry Chicago doesn’t have a retractable roof. (I don’t mean the baseball park–I mean the city of Chicago.)
I’m sorry that the World Series is always dominated by Sox teams, year after year, so let’s wish the Yankees luck in getting back on their feet, shall we?
I’m sorry that it’s my job to point out that “World Series champs” is OK but “world champs” is NOT, since we do not have the right to claim for sure that the Sox could beat, say, a Japanese team or a Dominican team.
I’m sorry that Tad Iguchi hit .167 in the World Series. (Because he’s a good hitter and a good guy.)
I’m sorry that it took me this long to appreciate just how magnificently Joe Crede could play third base.
I’m sorry that Juan Uribe wasn’t playing left field for the Cubs in Game 6 of the 2003 playoffs because he would have caught that foul ball.
I’m sorry that 97-year-old Al Lopez, the 1959 White Sox manager, couldn’t come to a game in person. (Hey, Al, I remember when your 1954 Cleveland Indians team lost the World Series in four straight and you said: “They say anything can happen in a short series. I just didn’t expect it to be that short.”)
I’m sorry that the Sox couldn’t clinch a single meaningful series on their home field, but the good thing is, those road uniforms do say: “Chicago.”
I’m sorry that I haven’t e-mailed Ozzie Guillen yet.
I’m sorry that the “Goo-Goo Sox”–babies born to Paul Konerko, Joe Crede, Freddy Garcia and A.J. Pierzynski all in the last month–won’t be aware for years what Daddy did in the 2005 World Series.
I’m sorry that Pierzynski didn’t hit a home run in the World Series because he picked up a bat in the Sox dugout before one game and that crazy Ozzie promptly joked: “Is that the one with the cork?”
I’m sorry that I didn’t know Jermaine Dye would be voted MVP or I would have suggested a headline: “Dye Wins Trying.”
I’m sorry that Carl Everett said after winning the championship, “Everyone was against us.” (Doggone it, Carl, some people were, not all of us.)
I’m sorry that Paul Konerko might move on, but he doesn’t owe anybody in this city one thing more. Paulie, you go do whatever it is you need to do.
I’m sorry that Geoff Blum’s new fans probably won’t want to be known as “The Bleacher Blums.”
I’m sorry that Jerry Reinsdorf’s lucky statue of John Wayne won’t go on permanent display at the park. (Or will it?)
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I’m sorry that Mayor Daley will have to go back to wearing dark socks with suits. (Or will he?)
I’m sorry that John Kass will have to go back to the news department. (Or will he?)
I’m sorry that a wildly enthusiastic Sox fan like Richard Roeper now has to stop jumping up and down on his couch like Tom Cruise. (Or will he?)
I’m sorry that I forgot to tell a great Chicago baseball fan, Pat Sajak from “Wheel of Fortune,” that I was going to get him a White Sox championship on Wednesday for his birthday. (Or did I?)
I’m sorry that I couldn’t go with my new friend Joan Cusack, the queen of U.S. Cellular, and her husband and son to Game 2. (Maybe next time.)
I’m sorry that my wife, Gail Martin, and her dad, Dean Martin, had to waste so many years of their lives going to Dodgers games.
I’m sorry that this season has to end. (Or does it?)
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