The 500 level of Guaranteed Rate Field was closed off, in keeping with what should go down as the second-worst attended season in the history of the ballpark, but Tuesday night might have been the biggest crowd of credentialed media of the year for the White Sox. It's real a paradox for an organization that loathes out-of-town gawking but also bristles at being ignored.
Even with Dog Day to tempt them, over 17,000 fans in attendance is better than two last-place teams on a rainy weeknight in September had any business drawing, but signs of "121" and banners demanding a change in ownership swept any ambiguity about what had brought them out.
"As players, that falls on us," said Gavin Sheets, noble as ever even in the face of acutely unwanted attention. "It’s brought on by us. It’s brought on by a long season. It’s brought on by our performance."
As Angels org soldier Jack López drilled his first career home run in the eighth to put the Sox into what was believed to be an insurmountable 2-0 deficit, national media got to see a phenomena that players and coaches have been citing for months: a demoralized White Sox fan base seemingly cheering on their team's demise. For so many uniformed personnel already living through what they all hope is their professional nadir, it's been an irksome extra level of piling on.
But the way fan enthusiasm for a historic 121st loss crystallized into the loudest, most coordinated 'SELL THE TEAM' chant of the night, the target of their ire became focused. This was not a group that had turned on these specific players as individuals, but fans who had long felt they were thousands of canaries being ignored in the coal mine cheering the arrival of something indelible that the organization would forever have to wear.
"I get it," said Jonathan Cannon, whose six scoreless innings of work would be a developmental highlight in a normal situation. "I understand where they're coming from, why they're frustrated. Obviously we've had a rough year. At one point or another we were all baseball fans and we had our team growing up and we were pissed off when they were bad, so we understand where they're coming from. But I thought it was a good crowd tonight and they were behind us for a lot of it."
Such is the nature of this season that Cannon was the stalwart performer of the night and still responsible for the most apt White Sox moment. After inducing an infield popup from Mickey Moniak directly above the mound, Cannon had the gusto to call for the ball himself, only for reality to set in just as his teammates were scared off the trail. The ball dropped for a hit, Moniak quickly stole second to put himself in scoring position, but Cannon was in the unique spot to channel his frustration into stranding the runner.
Still, in a rare moment where the baseball world's eyes were focused on the South Side, White Sox fans had a clear proof of concept of what they've dealt with for years and cheered in validation.
"We are not upset with that, we get where they are coming from," said Grady Sizemore, who has more reason than ever to speak like he'll be here for a while. "We are not happy either. I get the frustration and I understand where they are coming from. They want to see wins and they want to see them now. We want to bring those wins. Tonight was a good night for us. I think it’s going to be that much better when we turn this around for everybody."
As a crowd of TV cameras, national writers and local columnists blocked out anyone around the team often enough to care, White Sox general manager Chris Getz tried pregame to explain the path out of historic failure with a series of foundational changes that figure to boost the franchise at a glacial pace: investing in the analytics department, overhauling international scouting, continuing to make upgrades to player development that he advocated for years ago. Signing top-of-market free agents was specifically ruled out, which was not news to anyone, no matter their experience level on the beat.
There's a story or 20 to be told about the necessity of a lot of the modernization efforts Getz & Co. are undertaking. But the sort of media crowd on hand tend to boil things down to soundbites, and this team this front office has built to bide the time until those changes take hold has failed the competency test to earn anyone's ear for longer. The 2024 White Sox do not inspire interest in the path forward, but far more base reactions.
"I know that [White Sox fans are] frustrated, they're upset, they're pissed, and we understand that," Getz said "It's our job to to get us back on track, so they can be once again proud to be a White Sox fan."
Restoring pride is Getz identifying the next rung of the ladder the Sox have shifted down to, after he, Pedro Grifol and Rick Hahn have all earlier aimed to regain trust. Getz also directly invoked the term "rebuild" on Tuesday, which is a point for accuracy and transparency, but another concept the fan base has embraced with previous regimes to no satisfaction, leading them to have long since lost patience with the word. Banking on a full-scale transformation of a franchise at the lowest point in the history of the sport requires faith that has not come close to being earned. Hoping for a black eye for the franchise to inspire some change is simpler and more straightforward, even if it starts feeling weird.
At least it was until López started twisting in confusion in pursuit of a Luis Robert Jr. popup to shallow center with two outs in the eighth. The needless backbreaking mistake to swing a game was committed by the other side. The literal very next pitch from Angels reliever Brock Burke was a middle-middle sinker that oft-derided highest-paid player Andrew Benintendi banged to left field for a go-ahead single. And beneath the boos of fans being denied the specific moment they came to see, the cheers for the first White Sox comeback win from trailing after seven innings in 95 tries, was simply confusion.
"I don’t think everybody knows that," said Benintendi, genuinely surprised when presented with that fun fact postgame. "First comeback win being this late in the season, hard to believe."
As promising as he's been, Wednesday's starter Davis Martin has not pitched in a game the White Sox have won all season. Chris Flexen's fortunes in this regard are famously not much better. After them, the White Sox travel to Detroit, a team treating their fans to September games that carry an appeal beyond voyeuristic disaster tourism.
This was not a breakthrough, but a blip, the most strangely-timed respite that induced more than a few groans from national writers in the press box who will need to extend their stay. That's not much satisfaction at all, but in a season like this one, it still stands out.
"I think that people here tonight were maybe trying to see history, but they’re going to have to wait one more day," said Benintendi, catching his accidental implication a second too late. "Maybe."
