by Brule Laker
Here’s a story
In 1959, after 40 years, the Chicago White Sox finally won an American League pennant. With no Internet, Ticketmaster, eBay, StubHub or other such services, one needed to know someone in the ticket office, in our case, the head guy, Tommy Maloney.
My uncle, a season-ticket holder, got tickets for my father, brother and me (age 10) for Game 1 in the right-field lower deck. The route to the ballpark on October 1 was Canal Street, because the Dan Ryan Expressway had not yet been built. Long-suffering Bridgeport residents had clotheslines strung across Canal with dangling white socks and signs proclaiming, “Go Go Sox!” Entering at 35th and Shields, we saw Warren Giles, the president of the National League. I’m sure there were other dignitaries we didn’t recognize.
The Sox put 11 runs on the board in the first 4 innings on the way to an 11-0 win over the Los Angeles Dodgers. Ted Kluszewski (“Big Klu”) hit two home runs, both into the right-field stands but not close to us. A ball in batting practice almost hit me, having lost it in the sun only to hear it smack into the wall in front of me.