In his autobiography, Bill Veeck wrote, "If there is any justice in this world, to be a White Sox fan frees a man from any form of penance."
Now that a White Sox fan is literally the pope, I guess we'll soon find out.
Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost, who was elected pope on Thursday and chose the name Leo XIV, was born in Chicago, grew up in Dolton, and, according to his brother in New Lenox, "was always a Sox fan," contradicting initial reporting that Prevost rooted for the Cubs.
Let us proclaim the mystery of faith.
The fact that the election of the first American pope -- a position that dates back to the year 30 -- immediately devolved into an argument over baseball allegiances is so incredibly stupid, but in the sweetest, most adorable, most human fashion, because everybody's wrestling with something that is initially impossible to grasp.
Sure, it was a big deal when Barack Obama wore a White Sox cap during his presidency, but it didn't boggle the mind. Baseball fans have become president before, and Obama had years to establish that facet of his national profile. Thus, when a White Sox fan was elected president, it was highly significant, but it wasn't at all sudden.
Here, there was no point of even attempting to calculate the odds of a White Sox fan pope until it actually happened. First, it required the election of an American pope, which had never occurred before. Then, that pope had to have hailed from the highly specific geographical area conducive to being aware of the White Sox, and then he'd have to care about baseball.
Assuming the topic is not Donn Pall, it's hard to comprehend the idea of a Chicago-born pope, or a Chicagoland pope. Or the idea that the pope has a brother in the Southwest suburbs who can be directly reached by phone. While I'd known at some level that every pope is a person -- Pope Benedict XVI was the first one elected during my lifetime, and a lot was certainly written about his upbringing -- it didn't resonate like seeing a picture of the person who is now pope wearing a White Sox jersey in the stands of U.S. Cellular Field during the World Series.
So, yes, the race to immediately determine the fandom of His Holiness is provincial, trivial and dumb, but what else so effectively reduces a previously impenetrable concept to its most relatable nugget?
From there, the mind races, jokingly, but also not: How many Sox jerseys does the pope have? Did he have a nice Sox jacket he saved for fancier restaurants? Is the name Leo XIV a tribute to Paul Konerko? What Hawk Harrelson sayings does the pope apply to his teachings? Did the pope see Chase Meidroth get hit in the head with a popup? Has the pope ever read Sox Machine? Has the pope ever commented on Sox Machine?
Think about how utterly insane these questions would have sounded before Thursday's news. That's what makes it different from the time a White Sox fan was president.
(Seriously, anybody knows whether the pope has read Sox Machine, please reach out. In accordance with Mark 12:41-44, we can offer a gift subscription.)
Needless to say, this is a huge moment for the White Sox franchise, which is finally being talked about for reasons beyond its general ineptitude. Granted, said ineptitude is baked into the stunned reactions to the idea that the pope is a White Sox fan, but at the end of the day, one of the most important and influential people in the world roots for the unlikeliest of teams.
The White Sox made an initial offering to capitalize on the announcement, as they should ...
“Family always knows best, and it sounds like Pope Leo XIV’s lifelong fandom falls a little closer to 35th and Shields,” the spokesperson said. “Some things are bigger than baseball, but in this case, we’re glad to have a White Sox fan represented at the Vatican. A pinstripes White Sox jersey with his name on it and a hat are already on the way to Rome, and of course, the Pontiff always is welcome at his ballpark.”
... but after the initial rush subsides, any further ties will require a delicate touch. Pope Leo XIV bobbleheads and Vatican City Connect uniforms would immediately cheapen the association, and it's not like Prevost's fandom can reverse the team's fortunes by itself. Just like the Obama presidency didn't prevent Rick Hahn from trading Marcus Semien for Jeff Samardzija, the Leo XIV papacy will likely lack the juice to compel the White Sox to spend $100 million on a free agent.
Still, White Sox fans stand to immediately benefit, because the tired joke about whether White Sox fans actually exist now has an incredible rebuttal. And since White Sox fans already qualify for most of the Beatitudes, you can't rule out a greater payoff down the road, or in the life of the world to come.
