My father, who passed away 5 years ago, was the driving force behind my White Sox obsession. More than anything, I think he was a Yankee hater and the Sox of 1960 presented the best shot at besting them. I still remember sitting in a cottage in northern Ontario, that summer, listening to a transistor radio, fading in and out, as the Sox played the Yankees. For 3 straight nights we listened and played cribbage.
I'll never forget how magical it felt to be listening to a Sox game, live, from so far away. While feeling so close to my father.