A slow rolling groundball headed to the shortstop. As he threw to first base for the out, I jumped into my father’s arms.
The 2005 World Series just went to the Chicago White Sox. This is one of my favorite memories.
Then Monday night happened.
Upon learning that another team I grew up watching won a championship I raced to family once again. This time it was my son, only a few hours old. Someone in the room turned on the TV. In pure joy, I held David, describing to him a similar kind of happiness radiating out of Chicago.