The White Sox won the world series! They’ve totally come a long way since 1919.
Well, I’ll tell ya, slugger: it’s because something about baseball brings out the purple prose in spades, complete with sweeping references to life, death, God, heaven, love, joy, pain, loss, devotion, prayer, and everything else the Republicans hold so dear (eep, sorry my-one-Republican-friend). Point being, baseball makes poets out of everyone. For proof, look no further than today’s New York Times, courtesy of an excitable Tyler Kepner:
The baseball gods once were merciless, inflicting decades of sorrow on a franchise for one fateful mistake. They would sit in that mystical corner of sports heaven, firing thunderbolts at teams like the Chicago White Sox, who threw the World Series in 1919 and had defined mediocrity ever since.
All these years later, it turns out the gods have a heart, after all. How else to explain what happened at Minute Maid Park on Wednesday night, when the White Sox beat the Houston Astros, 1-0, in Game 4 of the World Series to clinch their first championship since 1917?
It’s so funny how the Gods care enough to intervene in a baseball game but totally pretend not to see when a Category 4 hurricane bears down on Louisiana.
Sports fans hate me right now.