Tag Archives: The 35th Best

Death at 161st and River

The 2010 Chicago White Sox season ended on a Sunday in May in New York City. I know, because I was there.

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Player of the Decade

It’s not who you think it is, but it’s exactly who it should be. Part one of a series.

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Four Incredibly Short Essays About Dewayne Wise

Who was Dewayne Wise, and why should we care? Two burning questions share an eerily similar answer.

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The Decade of Paulie

Be careful what you wished for three years ago.

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Cleveland Will Rock (And Don’t Think It Won’t)

The Indians will win. Or lose. Or beat you up. Part three in a series, rated PG-13 for some strong language.

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How to Write a White Sox Spring Training Report

So-and-so has something to prove. Part two in an ongoing series.

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. . . Just for One Day

Rickey and Roger & me.

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Before His First Step, He’s Off Again

He doesn’t always drink beer but when he does, Javier Vazquez prefers Dos Equis.

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Dome Is Where the Heart Is

Sometimes even the indefensible needs a defender. At the dawn of the biggest series of either team’s season, Ira Brooker looks for the positives in baseball’s worst stadium.

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Letter from Detroit I: Tigers and Me

When is the home team no longer your home team? In the first of our three-part series, Dave Willen looks back on life after Michigan.

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Shank or Be Shanked!

Chain mail? Check. Shiv? Check. Skull? Check. Baseball? Did anyone remember to bring the baseball?

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  • The 35th Street Review. A blog about Chicago White Sox baseball. [More]



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  • "Give me a White Sox fan any day. There's a team that has hosed its fans more completely than nearly any other, and that includes two terms under the best and most fan-friendly owner in history, Bill Veeck. Do you hear them whining endlessly about how God wants them to suffer? Do they bore you with tales of Shoeless Joe Jackson, or Luke Appling, or Wild Bill Dietrich, and how each one has cursed them from beyond the grave? Do they go on and on about Arnold Rothstein and Charlie Comiskey and Chick Gandil and how they robbed their great grandfather of a two-day bender back in '19 whatever? Of course not. They say, 'The Sox? They stink. Another beer over here, Hap.' They don't long-suffer, and if they do, they don't do it loud enough for the rest of the neighborhood to hear. And they've known circles of Hell you've never even driven through on your way to the company picnic."
    - Ray Rotto, The San Francisco Chronicle, September 19, 2003