If you’re not a sports fan or haven’t been keeping up with the Chicago White Sox this season, well, you’ve missed a lot of bad baseball. The 2024 South Siders are—without exaggeration—one of the worst, if not the worst, teams of all time. They’ve lost in just about every way imaginable, a dramatic collapse for a squad that went to back-to-back postseasons in 2020-21 and seemed poised to become a perennial contender. There’s a famous saying by Hall of Fame manager Tommy Lasorda that no matter what, every team is destined to win a third of its games and lose a third. Apparently, the Sox were not informed of this.
As the calendar turned to September this year, the baseball world turned its attention toward the Sox’s march to infamy. The team needed to lose 121 games to surpass the expansion 1962 New York Mets for the most losses in a season in the modern era. While, at the time, there were still weeks left to play, it seemed all but certain the Sox would earn that dubious distinction—it was only a matter of when.
Now, full disclaimer: I am a Cubs fan. But though the city’s two baseball teams are crosstown rivals, I can’t say I derive much pleasure from the misery of Sox fans. (After all, we still come together at the end of the day to root for the hapless Bulls, Bears and Blackhawks.) However, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see history in person. And when the Sox were swept by the San Diego Padres on September 22, matching the 1962 Mets with 120 losses, the die was cast. They would have the chance to put their names in the record books in front of their hometown fans.
After a little convincing, my girlfriend begrudgingly agreed to attend Tuesday’s game with me (she does not care for sports), because this is history. As luck would have it, despite an unusually dry September in which residents started noticing a foul stench across the city, Tuesday saw on-and-off showers throughout the day. I checked the forecast every hour, hoping the game wouldn’t be rained out. It only seemed fitting, though, that if the Sox were going to break the record, it was going to be a miserable experience for everyone involved.
The rain pushed the start of the game back by an hour. Upon entering Guaranteed Rate Field (née Comiskey, or Sox Park), I was thoroughly surprised by the turnout. There were more fans in the stadium—officially 17,606— watching a historically bad team on a wet weeknight than I expected. Of course, the novelty of it all definitely boosted attendance, but there were plenty of genuine Sox fans as well. Ironically, the last homestand of the season was a Fan Appreciation Series, because nothing says “Thank you for supporting us” like cementing yourself as the worst team of all time (plus free custom bobbleheads courtesy of State Farm!). Tuesday was also Dog Day, so a whole different species had to witness crimes against baseball.
The Sox’s opponent for the series were the similarly toothless Los Angeles Angels. This is a franchise that recently fielded two of the best players ever, Shohei Ohtani and Mike Trout, and never even came close to sniffing the playoffs. And yet despite the Angels’ ineptitude, they were still 20-something games better than the Sox. Let that sink in for a moment.
Things went according to the script for the first few innings, with neither side mustering much offense. But in the top of the fifth, the Angels hit a routine infield pop-up in front of home plate. Four Sox players converged under the ball … and not a single one caught it. Fed up with the dismal play, fans began booing and chanting “Sell the team.” This would not be the only time during the evening that these feelings were expressed.
View this post on Instagram
The Angels managed to push across a couple of runs and led 2-0 heading into the bottom of the eighth. Then, the inexplicable happened: The Sox rallied. Aided by Angels second baseman Jack López misplaying a pop-up, the South Siders plated three runs of their own. When they recorded the 27th out minutes later, fans—some of them wearing paper bags over their heads—were less than enthused and showed their displeasure by booing the home team. While the history many had come to see did not happen, the Sox did treat their fans to something they hadn’t done all year: Win when trailing after seven innings. They had previously been 0-94 in such situations, so I suppose the crowd did witness a rare phenomena.
Walking out of the park, I knew I had to return the following night. Surely, the Sox wouldn’t win two straight games, right?
I bought the cheapest ticket available, which was roughly $12 with fees, and again readied myself for history. Because attendance numbers were nowhere near the stadium’s capacity, the upper levels were closed off and fans were more or less allowed to sit anywhere they wanted—a policy that I assume applied to most games this past summer.
The vibes on night two were much less antagonistic toward the home team. Fans actually cheered when the Sox recorded a hit or home run. You know, like a normal crowd would. Not overly concerned with the action early on, I walked around the park and ordered the viral Campfire Milkshake. The beverage has been one of the few bright spots this season, selling out quickly every game (a lesson I learned on night one). I can safely say it was the highlight of my evening.
The Sox jumped out to an early 2-0 lead before the Angels tied it up. The quality of play ... left a lot to be desired and at times bordered on unwatchable. Nonetheless, the game went to extra innings, where Sox left fielder Andrew Benintendi—the franchise’s most expensive free agent signing ever at $75 million, a pittance compared to nearly every other team—ended it with a go-ahead, one-out single. The stadium was elated; loss 121 was staved off for at least another day.
At this point, I was committed to seeing things through, so I returned Thursday for the last home game of the season. It was an afternoon affair, but there were still a decent amount of people in the stands. Whether it was the nice weather, the $5 beers or the fact that the suffering was almost finally over, fans were in good spirits. And the Sox gave them lots to cheer about, batting around and tallying seven runs in the fifth—their biggest offensive burst of the year. Starting pitcher Chris Flexen, who entered the game with an ERA over 5, kept the Angels scoreless in 6.1 innings of work, and the maligned bullpen held it down for win No. 39. That's baseball, baby!
There would be no history made at home, and those in attendance couldn’t have been happier as fireworks went off above us—everybody loves a winner! In a shocking twist of fate, the arguably worst team of all time succeeded (or failed, depending on who you ask) when it counted most. The Sox swept an opponent for the first time since April, and no matter what happens in the final three games of the season, they’ll avoid setting the mark for the lowest winning percentage in the modern era.
As annoyed as I was to have sat through three games of bad baseball and not been a part of the record-breaking loss, I had to appreciate the faithful who had not wavered and came out to support their team during the literal worst of times. Maybe it’s because locals are used to losing, with all of our teams mired in mediocrity (or worse) right now, but Sox fans showed me this week that the Chicago spirit is indomitable.