The Right Kind of Hurt.

I’ve always been a somewhat casual sports fan, except when it comes to the Chicago White Sox. That team/ballpark meant more to me than just being a sports team I rooted for. As Sarge worked security at Sox games growing up, he’d bring me with to many of them, often I’m sure to keep me out of trouble and to give my mom a breather from my high energy antics.

The ballpark took on a special meaning to me, and the team did as well, as its always been a symbol of the people who root for it. The Sox will never have the Yankees payroll, and never the (inexplicable) fan base the Cubs/Bears are gifted with even after years upon years of mediocrity. The Sox represent the working class, diverse, “get what you went and got” mentality of the South Side, the mentality I was raised with.

I’m proud to say I got to watch and aggressively root for The Big Hurt Frank Thomas growing up – a man whose physical size dwarfed many of his competitors, and accomplishments dwarfed many of his steroid abusing peers in hindsight.

Now he’s a Hall of Famer, which helps put a stamp on the specialness of those times we watched him. I don’t care if you don’t care about sports. You have to admit it’s inspiring to see people recognized for being really good at what they set out to be really good at in the first place.

Go Big Frank.

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