The most beleaguered of all White Sox fans used to be Chris, pictured here.
Last summer, Melissa and I visited Cellular Field when the Sox were in last place, hosting a hopeful Mariner squad. We rooted for the M's amid a sea of depressed Chrises. Seattle won.
This year, Chris enjoys a White Sox team in first place, a joy mitigated only slightly by the Cubs' resurgence. (Last rivalry match went to the Sox.)
We, on the other hand, are cursed with a woeful husk of a team, nearly 20 games out of first, with at least four or five players on the trading or chopping block, all hope abandoned.
Chris has his vengeance. He is not smiling, though. He knows his dark days will come again. Such is the way of baseball.