South Side Hitmen

Kenneth Dickerman for the New York Times
A bronze lion flanking the entrance to the Art Institute in downtown Chicago now sports a White Sox cap.

The Chicago White Sox are two games away from their first World Series championship in 88 years.

Several weeks ago, when we were in south Chicago on a Sunday, my husband's aunt taught a children's Sunday School class. The lesson was part of a series on the Ten Commandments. That day's study focused on "You shall have no other gods before me." To get the idea across to the children, she told them that they should not worship the Chicago White Sox above God.

These children of Dutch immigrants* take their baseball seriously. It's more than a sport. It's about class and identity. From the New York Times:

The last time the Sox went to a World Series was 1959, and they have not won since 1917. Across town, the Cubs made it to the series in 1945, and they won it most recently almost a century ago, in 1908.

. . . .this rivalry, like most, is about more than baseball. It is about perceptions of class and race and heritage on the two sides of Madison Street, the line that splits the city into North and South.

"In truth, I'd say there's no difference between the people that root at either park," said Rob Levoy, a White Sox fan who has moved to the North Side. "But the perception is that the North Side owns the city and the South Side built it."

The hatred," he said, "is real."

And so, South Siders have gone right on moaning that elites crowd into the ivied Wrigley Field caring more about getting tan, talking on cellphones and planning their post-game, North Side bar-hopping than about baseball.

North Siders, meanwhile, gripe that the fans at U.S. Cellular Field (the White Sox park that many here still call Comiskey) are too rough, too wild and inhabit a dismally ugly stadium, whatever its name, in a neighborhood with little to do.

I wouldn't go so far as to use the word "hatred," but emotions run high. My father-in-law has been waiting for the Sox to play in the World Series since their last berth in 1959--my husband, all his life.

I hope the White Sox win, if only to give joy to the children of generations of tall, stoic, frugal, stubborn, work-proud, frequently blonde men hauling garbage --north and south-- day after smelly day, year after year, fueled by bland food, unbending faith, and a sharp and steady sense of humor.

*Many of whom made their living hauling the city's garbage.