AreAre you still with me, White Sox fans? I know some of you are starting to re-emerge as fans, like the tender lilacs in May, or the reticent fawn prudently approaching the apple slice you offer with an outreached hand from your car, even though the deer overpopulation is so out-of-control that it’s legal to shoot them with a homemade bow and arrow.
I get it. It’s hard to be a fan sometimes, especially when there was such promise two years ago.
Some fans may have felt a perplexing sense of relief at the early-season assfest of April 2023, as it offered a concrete judgment of “this team blows dicks, man,” instead of the existential crisis of last season’s maddening, middling record.