CHICAGO — Seventy times a year, Barry Antoniazzi puts on his black No. 27 jersey with “Bagodonuts” stitched on the back, a firefighter’s helmet covered in Chicago White Sox pins and walks the block and a half to his baseball shrine.
Tired of paying for parking at Guaranteed Rate Field, Antoniazzi moved 11 years ago to W. 35th Street and S. Parnell Avenue, where he can normally hear the post-game fireworks from his house.
Of course, this is no normal year, and the air above the stadium is still most nights. The White Sox haven’t won a home game in over a month and are on the cusp of unwanted history as they limp toward the record 120-game losing streak set by the 1962 New York Mets.
And yet Antoniazzi’s faith in the franchise has not wavered, even as his house of worship has become a house of horror that has endured one defeat after another. On Tuesday, Antoniazzi, a paramedic for the Chicago Fire Department, watched his beloved, beleaguered club lose its 26th game in 27 home games. Just as no two snowflakes are exactly alike, the White Sox have repeatedly found new and increasingly painful ways to lose in a season that has felt like one long, freakish South Side blizzard.
On Monday, Cleveland Guardians rookie spot starter Joey Cantillo retired the first 20 hitters he faced. On Tuesday, a line drive to the thigh retired Guardians starter Ben Lively after two innings, but the team’s bullpen held on for the final seven frames to seal a shutout. On Wednesday, Lane Thomas hit two two-run infield singles to sweep Cleveland.
Antoniazzi traveled to San Francisco last month to complete his mission to watch the White Sox in all 30 stadiums. He’s drawn to Guaranteed Rate Field for the chance to see something new — he’s never seen a no-hitter in real life, for instance — and to support a team that he insists can only get better from here.
“We’re not going to be this bad forever,” he said. “We’re going to get better. So when we get good, I can say, ‘I’ve been with them through thick and thin.’ That’s what keeps me coming back.”
Antoniazzi isn’t the only one who’s loyal; a few of the few thousand fans who show up 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 step through the turnstiles? Why do they choose to spend hours watching a predictable ending on the field rather than, say, taking a boat ride on the Chicago River, or riding the Centennial Wheel at Navy Pier, or watching the pennant races on the TVs at Timothy O’Toole’s Pub, or shopping on Michigan Avenue, or just kicking back on the living room couch?
The White Sox sold 11,429 tickets for Monday’s game, though the actual attendance appeared to be less than half that number. There was a slight increase on Tuesday, perhaps because of a $5 beer promotion or fans trying to get their hands on a few of the last Campfire Milkshakes of the season. Or there’s another reason, one that’s taken on greater importance as this impressively bad season has progressed: witnessing the train wreck, one loss at a time.
“We’re here to watch them make history,” as one fan put it.
For others, the wins and losses don’t matter much. Many in town on business had a night to kill and a few beers to drink. Brent Poole, from the Winnipeg area, said he had the best hot dog of his life at Tuesday’s game. As they walked down the center field concourse, Poole and Russ Palm studied the statues of Charles A. Comiskey, Luis Aparicio and Nellie Fox. Poole hadn’t been to the stadium in 25 years; it was Palm’s first visit.
“Even though there are no people here,” 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 White Sox’ 2024 season. (Matt Dirksen/Getty Images)
Dan Murby traveled from Boston to Chicago for work this week, and since he’s already attended a Bulls and Blackhawks game — and since the Cubs were visiting — he spent Tuesday night leaning against a right-field drinks rail 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 close by.” Jones visits Chicago every other year, and he tries to attend a White Sox game every time, regardless of the team’s status.
“I’m not even a baseball fan,” Jones said. “I just like some entertainment.”
A couple getting married on September 26 chose to view Monday’s game — their first baseball game — as “a first of firsts to begin our lives together.”
If their union survives the 2024 White Sox, it can sustain anything.
The small crowd makes the scene almost eerie at times. As a concession stand owner pushed an ice cream cart down the concourse Monday, he rang a bell that echoed throughout the hall. After an innocent Guardians groundout or a Chicago pitcher’s first-pitch strike, you could hear the individual claps of a fan from several sections away.
On Monday, a fan staring out at a sea of empty, forest-green seats texted a friend that he’d seen “livelier Monday night vigils.” That morbid feeling can take its toll. Out in center field, a middle-aged man stood behind a thigh-high railing, watching loss No. 112 because a friend told him four tickets, so he brought his son and his son’s two friends. When asked how long he had been a White Sox fan, the pain in his voice was palpable as he lamented, “My whole life.”
In any case, that night, in this place, he had company.
“We’re at rock bottom right now,” said Nate Lutzow, who spent his 24th birthday at the stadium on Tuesday. “I wish the team was better. That would make me want to be here more.”
Still, there were bright spots. Some parents took advantage of the reduced crowds to take their kids to their first game without having to navigate a chaotic scene with a toddler. Some seized the opportunity to cross the stadium off their list in their quest to experience all 30 stadiums. One Philadelphia resident used his daughter’s move to Chicago as an excuse to visit his 27th stadium. A trio of New Yorkers spent the weekend watching the Yankees-Cubs series at Wrigley Field, sticking around an extra day to watch the other team in town. A Cleveland resident wore a white Steven Kwan jersey and a black White Sox hat to Monday’s game, since he buys a hat at every stadium 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. Visiting fan takeovers have become the norm as the season has progressed.
Chris Ramos walks with his brother Pat and their friend Jacob Swartley to Guaranteed Rate Field for every game. They were late for an Aug. 31 game against the Mets, and as they approached the gate, they heard an eruption of cheers from the crowd.
“We were like, ‘Oh, what happened?'” Ramos said. “Look at the phone. Pete Alonso home run.”
The Cleveland Spiders lost 134 games in 1899, but most people still consider the 1962 Mets and their 120 losses as the record the White Sox are chasing. (Quinn Harris/Getty Images)
The diehards have certainly been tested this season. Randy Johnson has been to 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 play,” Johnson said. “We’re South Siders. Win or lose, it’s the place to be.”
Swartley and the Ramos brothers have spent more than a decade in the right-hand corner of the pitch for almost every game. In 2016, they launched a blog, “From The 108,” and two years later a podcast. They are as involved with the club as anyone else.
“Other years, when the expectations were there,” Swartley said, “were a lot sadder than this year.”
Still, there have been games this year where the team’s pitifulness threatened their motivation. Pat lives three blocks from the stadium, but he couldn’t convince himself to get off the couch Monday night.
“It’s hard to get out of the house on a Monday night,” Chris said, “and see these guys? Even us guys who try to get to so many games, we’re like, ‘Eh, not tonight.’ I could totally understand why someone who has to drive even 15 minutes to get here would say, ‘No, not until they show me something.'”
The three friends discussed the worst-case scenario for the White Sox in the final weeks of this miserable regular season, with the club projected to blow past the record 120-loss mark.
“Why not at this point?” said Pat. “We’ve come this far.”
“I think it would be even more brutal to lose 119,” his brother countered.
“They would have to put on a heater for that,” Pat said, “so that would be nice for a while.”
“They should make it 10 wins in a row,” Chris added.
Pat pointed out that their season-long four-game winning streak is a record.
“But they’ve had a lot of 10-game losing streaks,” Pat said.
“While we enjoy coming to the stadium,” Chris said, “I think all three of us are ready for this year to be over.”
It was a season like few fans have ever experienced, a challenge for everyone who visits Guaranteed Rate Field.
“I know we’ve been terrible this year,” Antoniazzi said, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I love baseball. I love the White Sox.”
(Illustration: Meech Robinson / The Athletics. Photos: Quinn Harris/Getty Images; Joseph Weiser/Icon Sportswire)
