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  • Plenty of good seats available at White Sox Park: I’m just sayin’.

I pity the Chicago sports fans for whom there’s no alternative—and by that I mean you, White Sox fans who can’t stand the Cubs, and vice versa.

I arrived in this town as an eight-year-old devoted fan of the Baltimore Orioles, so in the years before interleague play the only way to see them was at Comiskey Park. I saw the first game I can remember there on a hot summer night, and I can still recall the cigarette smoke billowing out of the grandstand and into the lights above, and the way Boog Powell sweat-stained his way through one of those old woolen jerseys, so that the road gray turned black, until he changed into a fresh one about the seventh inning.

Yet I was infected by the Cubs in 1969, and once bitten by that bug it’s always carried with you—like hepatitis.

I will allow that no Sox fan should give blood to a fan of the Cubs—and vice versa.