Culture
The White Sox — 81 games under .500! — are piling up mind-blowing numbers for the ages
Editor’s note: This is a Weird and Wild short. To read this week’s full Weird and Wild column, go here.
For weeks now, months to be honest, we’ve been spending way too much valuable time making all-important comparisons between the 2024 White Sox and Casey Stengel’s legendarily hapless 1962 Mets. But now we know: That was actually the wrong comp.
These White Sox (current record: 33-114) would need a miracle to out-win those ’62 Mets (40-120). So it’s time to do something I never thought would happen: It’s time to turn our attention to those even more legendary 1899 Cleveland Spiders (attractive final record: 20-134).
I came to that mind-blowing realization Thursday morning, when the reality of this nutty little number hit home:
81 Games under .500!!!
As a longtime chronicler of everything Weird and Wild, I’ve seen a lot of stuff. But I thought to myself as I stared at the standings: Have I ever seen THAT? Have I ever seen any team that fell 81 freaking games under .500?
Here’s the truth: Nope. I. Have. Not. And neither have you, unless you’re a spritely 108 years old. And even if you are indeed 108 years old, your memory of previous 81-under-.500 history might be a little hazy. So allow me to fill you in.
The ’62 Mets? Sorry. Never got to 81 under.
The 2003 Tigers? Sorry. They never made it either.
Both of those teams got to 80 under. But it takes a truly special group to sink below 80 games under the sea. So let’s salute these White Sox because they’re one of those extraordinary teams that took a wrong turn and just kept going.
And who are those extraordinary teams? Here they come — the only teams in American League/National League/19th-century American Association history that ever got to 81 under or worse (in chronological order):
Whitey Witt’s 1916 A’s — Fell to 81 under at 33-114, just like these White Sox, except it wasn’t until Sept. 27 and they had only six games left in the season … but they somehow won three of them! (Final record: 36-117.)
Harry Colliflower’s 1899 Spiders — There’s a reason the Spiders are the poster boys for single-season futility, you know. They plummeted to 81 under on Aug. 31 (at 19-100). They still had 35 games to play … and they lost 34 of them! (Final record: 20-134.)
Kirtley Baker’s 1890 Alleghenys — Once upon a time, before the Spiders, these guys were the standard for 19th-century ineptitude. They descended to 81 under on Sept. 16 (at 21-102). They had 14 games remaining … and won two! (Final record: 23-113, plus two ties.)
Toad Ramsey’s 1889 Colonels — The worst team in the American Association’s glorious history, the Colonels tumbled to 81 under at 26-107. Fortunately, it was Oct. 8, so they had only five games left … and won one! (Final record: 27-111.)
And that’s the whole 81-Under Club. But if you were paying attention (in case we spring an end-of-season 2024 White Sox quiz on you), you might have noticed something. Only once, in nearly a century and a half of major-league history, had any team awakened this early in September and found itself 81 games under .500 or worse. And it was … those 1899 Spiders, because of course it was!
Yet now the Spiders have company, in these 2024 White Sox? What a time to be alive.
GO DEEPER
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Wednesday’s loss to the Guardians dropped the White Sox to 1-27 in their past 28 games at home. (Kamil Krzaczynski / Imagn Images)
But meanwhile, in other important White Sox news …
They can’t go home again! Since the second game of their July 10 doubleheader with Minnesota, the White Sox are 1-27 when they play baseball in their home park. One and 27! According to Baseball Reference, only one other team in the modern era has ever had a 1-27 stretch at home (or worse). And it was those 1916 A’s (also 1-27, in a messy 28-game span in July and August).
So that means, just since that game against the Twins on July 10, nine teams have more wins at Guaranteed Rate Field than the team that plays half its season on that field. There would be more teams, of course, but only nine have been allowed to play there by the schedule-makers of America.
Second to none! This seems impossible, but the White Sox are now 6-43 in the second half. Six and 43! Does this seem bad? How about historically bad. Since the invention of All-Star breaks, the fewest games any team has won in the second half of a non-strike season is 15, by Orie Arntzen’s 1943 A’s (15-61). I’m starting to think the White Sox aren’t going to catch them.
Late starters! In a related development, White Sox starters are now 2-30 in the second half. Two and 30! The record for the worst second-half winning percentage by any rotation is .167 (7-35), by Paolo Espino’s 2022 Nationals. I’m starting to think the White Sox might not catch that group, either.
No one will save you! On those sporadic occasions when the White Sox take a lead, they’ve been known to call on their bullpen to protect it. Here’s how that’s gone:
When they bring in their relievers in save situations, their bullpen’s record is now 3-17. Three and 17! Plus a 7.79 ERA, 31 blown saves and (somehow) more home runs allowed (26) than saves converted (18).
I rumbled through the Baseball Reference files for way too long. How many other teams could I find, since the dawn of the modern save rule in 1969, with more gopherballs than saves in those situations? That would be none!
I could keep going here for hours. But did you know …
• This White Sox team hasn’t started a pitcher with a winning record in over a month? Not even some opener who was 1-0. It’s 36 games in a row now, the fourth-longest streak in franchise history.
• The White Sox have now lost their first game of every month – April, May, June, July, August and September? Can’t beat that kind of consistency.
• It’s Sept. 13 … and the White Sox have won 33 games! You know when the Guardians won their 33rd game? How about May 22! That’s three and a half freaking months (and 111 days) ago!
• And finally, is it too late to wish a happy 105th birthday to Loyola of Chicago icon Sister Jean? As a friend of mine reminded me on Sister Jean’s birthday last month, she’s been gracing our planet for more than a century now. And she has seen the White Sox win a postseason series in exactly one of those 105 years (2005, obviously). I’m starting to think the chances of her seeing another series win this October aren’t good.
GO DEEPER
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(Top photo of Luis Robert Jr.: Matt Krohn / Associated Press)
A famous poet once observed that it is difficult to get the news from poems. The weather is a different story. April showers, summer sunshine and — maybe especially — the chill of winter provide an endless supply of moods and metaphors. Poets like to practice a double meteorology, looking out at the water and up at the sky for evidence of interior conditions of feeling.
The inner and outer forecasts don’t always match up. This short poem by Louise Glück starts out cold and stays that way for most of its 11 lines.
And then it bursts into flame.
“Early December in Croton-on-Hudson” comes from Glück’s debut collection, “Firstborn,” which was published in 1968. She wrote the poems in it between the ages of 18 and 23, but they bear many of the hallmarks of her mature style, including an approach to personal matters — sex, love, illness, family life — that is at once uncompromising and elusive. She doesn’t flinch. She also doesn’t explain.
Here, for example, Glück assembles fragments of experience that imply — but also obscure — a larger narrative. It’s almost as if a short story, or even a novel, had been smashed like a glass Christmas ornament, leaving the reader to infer the sphere from the shards.
We know there was a couple with a flat tire, and that a year later at least one of them still has feelings for the other. It’s hard not to wonder if they’re still together, or where they were going with those Christmas presents.
To some extent, those questions can be addressed with the help of biographical clues. The version of “Early December in Croton-on-Hudson” that appeared in The Atlantic in 1967 was dedicated to Charles Hertz, a Columbia University graduate student who was Glück’s first husband. They divorced a few years later. Glück, who died in 2023, was never shy about putting her life into her work.
But the poem we are reading now is not just the record of a passion that has long since cooled. More than 50 years after “Firstborn,” on the occasion of receiving the Nobel Prize for literature, Glück celebrated the “intimate, seductive, often furtive or clandestine” relations between poets and their readers. Recalling her childhood discovery of William Blake and Emily Dickinson, she declared her lifelong ardor for “poems to which the listener or reader makes an essential contribution, as recipient of a confidence or an outcry, sometimes as co-conspirator.”
That’s the kind of poem she wrote.
“Confidence” can have two meanings, both of which apply to “Early December in Croton-on-Hudson.” Reading it, you are privy to a secret, something meant for your ears only. You are also in the presence of an assertive, self-possessed voice.
Where there is power, there’s also risk. To give voice to desire — to whisper or cry “I want you” — is to issue a challenge and admit vulnerability. It’s a declaration of conquest and a promise of surrender.
What happens next? That’s up to you.
Cold weather can serve as a plot point or emphasize the mood of a scene, and this week’s literary geography quiz highlights the locations of recent novels that work winter conditions right into the story. Even if you aren’t familiar with the book, the questions offer an additional hint about the setting. To play, just make your selection in the multiple-choice list and the correct answer will be revealed. At the end of the quiz, you’ll find links to the books if you’d like to do further reading.
When a writer is praised for having a sense of place, it usually means one specific place — a postage stamp of familiar ground rendered in loving, knowing detail. But Kiran Desai, in her latest novel, “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny,” has a sense of places.
This 670-page book, about the star-crossed lovers of the title and several dozen of their friends, relatives, exes and servants (there’s a chart in the front to help you keep track), does anything but stay put. If “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny” were an old-fashioned steamer trunk, it would be papered with shipping labels: from Allahabad (now known as Prayagraj), Goa and Delhi; from Queens, Kansas and Vermont; from Mexico City and, perhaps most delightfully, from Venice.
There, in Marco Polo’s hometown, the titular travelers alight for two chapters, enduring one of several crises in their passionate, complicated, on-again, off-again relationship. One of Venice’s nicknames is La Serenissima — “the most serene” — but in Desai’s hands it’s the opposite: a gloriously hectic backdrop for Sonia and Sunny’s romantic confusion.
Their first impressions fill a nearly page-long paragraph. Here’s how it begins.
Sonia is a (struggling) fiction writer. Sunny is a (struggling) journalist. It’s notable that, of the two of them, it is she who is better able to perceive the immediate reality of things, while he tends to read facts through screens of theory and ideology, finding sociological meaning in everyday occurrences. He isn’t exactly wrong, and Desai is hardly oblivious to the larger narratives that shape the fates of Sunny, Sonia and their families — including the economic and political changes affecting young Indians of their generation.
But “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny” is about more than that. It’s a defense of the very idea of more, and thus a rebuke to the austerity that defines so much recent literary fiction. Many of Desai’s peers favor careful, restricted third-person narration, or else a measured, low-affect “I.” The bookstores are full of skinny novels about the emotional and psychological thinness of contemporary life. This book is an antidote: thick, sloppy, fleshy, all over the place.
It also takes exception to the postmodern dogma that we only know reality through representations of it, through pre-existing concepts of the kind to which intellectuals like Sunny are attached. The point of fiction is to assert that the world is true, and to remind us that it is vast, strange and astonishing.
See the full list of the 10 Best Books of 2025 here.
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