Everyone in the world that I'm related to, except for my parents, lives in Houston. Fortunately, I'm not a gloater or even a real sports fan. I just get pulled into these World Series dynamics by the emotion of it. I'm ruled by emotion.
My cousin told me she and the Astros are the same age: 44 years. She's been waiting her whole life for the Astros to win a World Series and she got quite wound up about it this week. I feel bad that she didn't get her wish, but I'm sure the Astros will win a World Series between now and when my cousin dies (sorry, don't mean to be morbid). Many, MANY Chicagoans waited their whole lives for a World Series win by either the White Sox or the Cubs, and you know what? They all died without it ever happening. So I can't regret that the Astros' dream hasn't yet come true. They're only 44 years old. They have plenty of time before the first generation of Astros fans is in their graves.
When the White Sox first made it to the World Series last week, Scoop Jackson, a Chicago sports journalist, wrote:
I knew it was serious when I turned on the news after "Monday Night Football" and saw a man who purchased "Sox AL Champs" banners to place over his parents' grave sites because, he said, "They waited for this moment their whole lives and they somehow still need to be a part of it."
Now those are sports fans who waited their entire lives -- every inhale and exhale of their entire lives -- for a World Series win that never happened. But now it has and as little as I usually care about sports, I'm proud to be a Chicagoan tonight. Maybe I can serve as some pale proxy of those who should have lived to see it happen. If not, at least I can witness what might not happen again before I'm dead. Congratulations, White Sox.