Chicago jubilates

The operative word in Chicago these days is stunned. I'm speaking for myself, but I'm also speaking for fellow South Siders and fans who are stunned that the Chicago White Sox -- the Hitless Wonder White Sox of 1906, the Go-Go Sox of 1959 -- won the World Series.

Stunned.

Friday was a surreal day. I hopped on a truck that was carrying photographers along the parade route through the South Side neighborhoods that make up the White Sox's historic foundation. Every street was lined three or four rows deep with screaming fans, applauding police officers and firefighters blaring sirens. The speeches were exhortations of love.

No saw this coming. Even Ozzie Guillen, the Sox's manager, said, "I knew we were going to make it happen, but I never believed it was going to be so fast for me to be a world champion manager in two years."

No could have envisioned an afternoon like this or a day like Friday.

It was a perfect Midwest autumn afternoon -- crisp and cool, but not cold. A sprawling Midwestern city -- the city that works, the city of broad shoulders pouring out emotion for the team that finally brought the World Series trophy back to the South Side.

"From the moment I left US Cellular Field to here, I had goose bumps the whole way."

Paul Konerko, first baseman for the Chicago White Sox

The city pulled off a celebration after only a day of planning, applying the best traits of New York, with its famed tickertape parades.

Truck blasted. Squad car sirens screamed. And under the Dan Ryan Expressway, car horns honked.

As the caravan made its way through the neighborhoods, class after class of schoolchildren flashed plaques and waved at the bright, red double-decker buses carrying players and their families.

The boys and girls don't yet understand the scope of what they witnessed, though they may as the decades inevitably pass without a repeat World Series performance.

I remember rushing out of my home at 78th and Calumet in September 1959 after the Sox had clinched the pennant and the air-raid alarm had sounded.

Friday represented a chance to release the pent-up emotions of 46 years without a pennant and 88 years without a World Series title.

"From the moment I left US Cellular Field to here, I had goose bumps the whole way," first baseman Paul Konerko said. "This is an amazing feeling. I can't explain to you guys how awesome this feeling is."

Konerko Jerry Reinsdorf, the White Sox's owner, to step up to the microphone. He handed him the ball from the last out of the World Series.

"You earned it," Konerko said.

Reinsdorf up, hugged Konerko, who is now a free agent, then turned away. Later, Reinsdorf told the audience that after 25 years of team ownership, the celebration made everything worthwhile.

"I never imagined it could be so good," he said. "But this is absolutely the most fantastic day of my life."

Receiving ball, he said, was "the most emotional moment of my life."

Chicago made a display of its long baseball drought like Boston did. Until they won the Series last season, the Red Sox had created a cottage industry of longing and suffering. The White Sox's curse is more tangible: the Chicago Cubs. The Cubs came into existence in 1876, the White Sox in 1901. The Sox have always been in the Cubs' shadow.

The White Sox are South Side. The Cubs are North Side. The division is as close to North and South Korea as you will get in sports. This is every bit as deep and bitter a relationship as the one between the Yankees and the Red Sox, with the added twist that all of the bitterness is concentrated in one city.

So Friday, amid the jubilation, there were shots at the Cubs. As the motorcade left the stadium, a group of White Sox fans aimed a derisive three-word chant at their North Side neighbors -- their version of the vulgar Boston chant aimed at the Yankees. But even more crude.

As the motorcade went through an industrial area, construction workers who were hundreds of feet above pointed to a banner made up like a postcard: Hey Cubs, Having a Great Time. White Sox.

Another read:

White Sox Tickets -- $150

White Sox T-shirts -- $125

Cub Fans at home -- Priceless.

When Konerko took the stage, the first words out of his mouth were, "Second city no more."

Konerko took the opportunity to call out White Sox doubters -- many of whom, I'm sure, were among the screaming fans.

"All year, we had to listen to people saying we didn't have the team to do this," he said. "We're in first place at the break, and people don't want to believe. We win the division, and people are saying we're going to get beat by the Red Sox."

And the Sox faced the Angels, he said, a lot of the talk was about umpires. "I'm trying to think in my mind, what would make people think we're a good team?" he said. "The only thing I could come up with is, maybe we'll have to do this one more time next year."

This was a great day to be in Chicago and a greater day to be a White Sox fan. Seize the moment, for there will never be another day like Oct. 28, 2005.