CHICAGO – Seventy times a year, Barry Antoniazzi puts on his black No. 27 jersey with “Bagodonuts” stitched on the back, puts on a fire helmet covered in Chicago White Sox pins and walks a block and a half to his baseball center.
Antoniazzi got tired of paying for parking at Guaranteed Rate Field, so 11 years ago he moved to W. 35th Street and S. Parnell Avenue, where in a normal year he can hear festive post-game fireworks from his home.
Of course, this is not a normal year, and the air above the ballpark is still almost every night. The White Sox haven’t won a home game in more than a month and are on the brink of unwanted history as they move toward the 1962 New York Mets’ record of 120 losses.
And yet Antoniazzi’s faith in the franchise has not wavered, even as his house of worship has become a house of horrors hosting one defeat after another. On Tuesday, Antoniazzi, a paramedic with the Chicago Fire Department, watched his beloved, beleaguered club drop its 26th game in 27 home tries. Just as no two snowflakes are exactly the same, the White Sox have repeatedly found new and increasingly painful ways to lose in a season that has felt like one long, extraordinary blizzard on the South Side.
On Monday, Cleveland Guardians rookie spot starter Joey Cantillo retired the first 20 batters he faced. On Tuesday, a line drive to the thigh knocked out Guardians starter Ben Lively after two innings, but the team’s bullpen covered the final seven frames and sealed a shutout. On Wednesday, Lane Thomas delivered a pair of two-run infield singles that fueled a Cleveland sweep.
Antoniazzi traveled to San Francisco last month to complete his mission of watching the White Sox in all 30 ballparks. He’s drawn to the Guaranteed Rate Field because it gives him the chance to see something new — he’s never seen a no-hitter in real life, for example — and to support a team he claims can only go from here but can go further.
“We’re not going to be this bad forever,” he said. “We’re going to get better. So if we get good, I can say, ‘I supported them through thick and thin.’ That’s what keeps me coming back.”
Antoniazzi is not alone in his loyalty; Some of the few thousand fans in attendance each night are true diehards, willing to stick with their team even as it heads toward the worst season in baseball history. But what inspires others to go through the turnstiles? Why do they choose to spend several hours watching a predictable ending on the diamond, instead of, say, cruising along the Chicago River on an architectural boat tour, or riding the Centennial Wheel at Navy Pier, or watching pennant races taking place on the TV at Timothy O’Toole’s Pub, shopping on Michigan Avenue, or just lounging on the living room couch?
The White Sox sold 11,429 tickets for Monday’s game, although actual attendance appeared to be less than half that. There was a slight increase on Tuesday, perhaps due to a $5 beer promotion or because fans wanted to get their hands on some of the last Campfire Milkshakes of the season. Or there’s another reason, one that has become increasingly important as this impressively bad season has dragged on: witnessing the train wreck, loss after loss.
“We’re here to see them make history,” as one fan put it.
For others, the wins and losses don’t really matter. Many visitors were in town on business and had an evening to spare and a few beers to drink. Brent Poole, from near Winnipeg, said he had the best hot dog of his life during Tuesday’s game. As they walked through the center field concourse, Poole and Russ Palm studied the images of Charles A. Comiskey, Luis Aparicio and Nellie Fox. Poole had not visited the stadium for 25 years; it was Palm’s first visit.
“Even though there are no people,” Palm said, “it’s still fun to come and see this. Every park is different.”
The Campfire Milkshake was one of the few bright spots in the 2024 White Sox season. (Matt Dirksen/Getty Images)
Dan Murby traveled to Chicago from Boston this week for work, and since he’s already attended a Bulls game and a Blackhawks game – and since the Cubs were on the road – he spent Tuesday evening leaning against a drink rail in right field as the White Sox sputtered toward their 113th loss. Dylan Jones and Gavin Orr, in town for the International Manufacturing Technology Show, are from upstate New York, where Jones said, “There’s nothing near us.” Jones visits Chicago every other year, and he tries to attend a White Sox game on each trip, regardless of the team’s status.
“I’m not even a baseball fan,” Jones said. “I just like some entertainment.”
One couple, with their wedding scheduled for September 26, chose to treat Monday’s game – their first baseball game – as a “first of the first to start our lives together.”
If their union can survive the White Sox of 2024, it can persevere through anything.
The small crowds make the scene almost eerie at times. When a concessionaire pushed an ice cream cart through the hall on Monday, he sounded a bell that echoed through the hall. After an innocent Guardians groundout or a first-pitch strike from a Chicago pitcher, you could recognize the individual hit from a fan several sections away.
On Monday, a fan, staring out at a sea of empty, forest-green chairs, texted a friend that he “woke up more alive on a Monday night.” That morbid feeling can take its toll. At midfield, a middle-aged man stood behind a thigh-high railing and watched loss No. 112 because a friend had given him a gift four tickets, so he took his son and his son’s two friends with him. When asked how long he has been a White Sox fan, the pain in his voice was palpable as he lamented, “My whole life.”
At least this evening, in this place, he had company.
“We’re at a low point right now,” said Nate Lutzow, who spent his 24th birthday at the ballpark on Tuesday. “I wish the team was better. That would encourage me to be here more often.”
Still, there are silver linings. Some parents took advantage of the small crowds to take their kids to their first game without having to navigate a chaotic scene with a toddler. Some took the opportunity to check off the margins of their list in their attempt to experience all 30 locations. A Philadelphian used his daughter’s move to Chicago as an excuse to see his 27th ballpark. A trio of New Yorkers spent last weekend taking in the Yankees-Cubs series at Wrigley Field and stuck around an extra day to catch the other team in town. A Clevelander wore a white Steven Kwan jersey and a black White Sox hat during Monday’s game, as he buys a cap at every ballpark he visits.
Many Guardians fans made the 55-minute flight or the five-hour drive west past windmills and RV company billboards, or just happened to live in the Windy City. Taking over visiting fans has become the norm as the season has progressed.
Chris Ramos walks to the guaranteed rate field before every game with his brother Pat and their friend Jacob Swartley. They arrived late for an August 31 case against the Mets, and as they approached the entrance they heard an eruption of cheers from the crowd.
“We said, ‘Oh, what happened?’” Ramos said. ‘Look at the phone. Pete Alonso home run.”
The 1899 Cleveland Spiders lost 134 games, but most still consider the 1962 Mets and their 120 losses to be the record the White Sox aspire to. (Quinn Harris/Getty Images)
The diehards have certainly been tested this season. Randy Johnson attended games at Comiskey Park with his grandparents. He has bricks and chairs from the old building, baseballs signed by Frank Thomas and scars from decades as a White Sox fan. He had his friend, who has a Cubs tattoo on his right forearm, wear a White Sox jersey to Tuesday’s game.
“You get to see the Sox game,” Johnson said. “We’re South Siders. Win or lose, it’s the place to be.”
Swartley and the Ramos brothers have occupied a spot in the right field corner at almost every game for more than a decade. They launched a blog, ‘From The 108’, in 2016 and a podcast two years later. They are as committed to the club as anyone.
“Other years, when the expectations were actually there,” Swartley said, “were much sadder than this year.”
Yet there have been games this year where the team’s woes have threatened their motivation. Pat lives three blocks from the ballpark, but he couldn’t convince himself to dump his couch Monday night.
“It’s hard to get out of the house on a Monday night,” Chris said, “and see these guys? Even us, who try to get to so many games, say, ‘Ehh, not tonight.’ I could totally understand why someone who has to drive even fifteen minutes here would say, “No, not until they show me something.”
The three friends spent the final weeks of this miserable regular season discussing the worst-case scenario for the White Sox. The club expects to surpass that record of 120 losses.
“Why not right now?” Pat said. “We’ve come this far.”
“I think it would be bolder to lose 119,” his brother argued.
“For that to happen, they have to turn on a heater,” Pat said, “so it would be nice for a while.”
“They should get ten wins in a row,” Chris added.
Pat pointed out that their winning streak is four games throughout the season.
“But they’ve had a lot of 10-game losing streaks,” Pat said.
“As much as we enjoy coming to the ballpark,” Chris said, “I think all three of us are pretty much ready for this year to be over.”
It was a season like few fan bases have ever experienced, testing the dedication of everyone who visits Guaranteed Rate Field.
“I know we’re terrible this year,” Antoniazzi said, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I love baseball. I like the White Sox.
(Illustration: Meech Robinson / The Athletics. Photos: Quinn Harris/Getty Images; Joseph Weiser/Icon Sportswire)