Can the Preakness’ venue save a downtrodden Baltimore neighborhood?
-
Michael A. Fletcher, ESPN
Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott’s childhood memories of the Preakness Stakes are more about the hardships the famed horse race imposed on his Park Heights neighborhood than any benefits the community reaped from the event. Sure, some enterprising residents and business owners made a few bucks selling water, letting fans park on their lawns and even charging for the use of their bathroom as throngs descended on the aging Pimlico Race Course for the second leg of racing’s Triple Crown.
But mostly, Scott said, he associates the Preakness with choking traffic, onerous parking restrictions and indiscriminate police sweeps aimed at making outsiders feel safe. “On the day before Preakness, you wouldn’t even go outside because they would come and roust people off the corner,” Scott recalled. “When I was growing up, we felt like Preakness was in Park Heights but not for Park Heights.”
Maryland political leaders are wagering $400 million that they can change the decades-old, arm’s-length relationship between the track and the neighborhood. The state legislature has approved a risky plan to use the struggling sport of horse racing to improve struggling Park Heights, a community living in the shadow of Pimlico and long burdened by rampant poverty, crime and disinvestment.
Last week, Gov. Wes Moore signed legislation to let a state-created nonprofit buy crumbling Pimlico from its private owners for $1, raze it and rebuild it with the neighborhood in mind as a profit-sharing partner. Before the community gets its cut, though, the state is obligated to pay $3 million annually to the current owners for rights to the Preakness, plus 2% of betting proceeds from the race — roughly another $2 million. The state also will use some of the $400 million outlay to build a separate horse training facility at one of several proposed sites in the Maryland suburbs.
With meager or no profits to show in recent years, a big question is how much would be left for Park Heights.
State officials said a big part of the track’s problem is its run-down condition. Pimlico dates back to 1870 and is widely recognized as the nation’s second-oldest race course. The facility is showing its age, having not undergone a major renovation in more than a half century. The clubhouse’s ceiling tiles are faded and water-stained. There is no working kitchen, and five years ago, a 6,700-seat section of its grandstand was closed because of safety concerns.
“It is not like anybody’s sneaking out and going to the race track, because it’s not inviting,” said Greg Cross, chair of the Maryland Thoroughbred Racetrack Operating Authority, which developed the Pimlico rebuilding plan. “I mean, why would you want to go there? Our task is to put the sexy back into Pimlico.” Through the years, Maryland lawmakers have made other efforts to prop up horse racing, but Cross said they amounted to “half-steps” that neither elevated the track-going experience nor helped the surrounding community. This time, he said, things will be different.
The commitment to rebuild the track will keep Baltimore as the home of the Preakness — a race that officials long worried could flee the city, and perhaps even the state. Pimlico also will become Maryland’s thoroughbred racing hub, with a new synthetic track touted as the safest surface for horses. Races would be run 140 days a year, up from the 23 dates in 2023. The goal is to uplift the sport’s sagging image and attract a new generation of horse racing fans with modern amenities, including a new clubhouse and a modern sportsbook.
For the community, there will be a 1,000-person event space that could host proms and other large parties, which officials say will create a new income stream for Pimlico. The project includes $10 million in housing for track workers. And Pimlico’s infield would be available for community events like festivals and concerts. There is also the possibility of a hotel, parking garages, retail and other development on the site. The plan calls for allocating 10% of the track’s profits to the neighborhood and exposing local students to racing and hospitality careers.
“The state is betting on itself — and we’re going all in,” Moore responded to an email query. He labeled the investment a “transformative deal” that would benefit both Pimlico and the local community.
Such urban-focused sports and entertainment developments around the country have yielded mixed results. Some investments have worked, but others haven’t paid off for surrounding neighborhoods. And there’s always the danger that success could bring unwanted gentrification. Nevertheless, community leaders agree with Moore that it’s worth a try.
Moore’s optimistic outlook contrasts with the currently bleak state of horse racing, suggesting that Maryland’s bet on Pimlico is far from a sure thing. The sport’s popularity has been declining, with the industry reporting the number of races, fans and betting revenue dwindling across the country as other legal gambling options proliferate. The danger racing poses to horses is a major hurdle in the sport’s bid to generate a new fan base. An estimated 2,000 horses die each year from racing-related injuries, according to Horseracing Wrongs, which advocates abolition of the sport.
In a 2019 poll commissioned by The Jockey Club, an industry group, nearly seven in 10 likely voters called horse fatalities a “very important” issue for the sport.
Attendance at Maryland’s two thoroughbred tracks, Laurel Race Course and Pimlico, was down 66% between 2013 and 2022, even as the number of racing days increased, according to the Maryland Racing Commission, which oversees the state’s horse racing industry. Over the past decade, the tracks averaged just 2,500 fans per day, not including the coronavirus years of 2020 and 2021, according to a state consultant’s report.
Meanwhile, the Stronach Group, the private owner of Pimlico and Laurel, has consistently reported to state officials that it is losing money. Over the past two years, the company said that it did not turn a profit on its most popular event, the Preakness.
So if horse racing is bleeding fans and money, how can it help Park Heights?
Pimlico Race Course sprawls over 140 acres of northwest Baltimore. The grounds are surrounded by tall fences, lined with trees and hedges, offering only glimpses of the concentric racing ovals and bucolic infield from the surrounding streets. The effect has been to wall off the community from what for years was a major economic asset. Pimlico is the most famous building in the neighborhood, but it stands apart from the rest of Park Heights.
The community is home to about 22,000 people, and for generations it has struggled with a host of challenges, including violent crime, widespread drug addiction, truancy and substandard housing.
“When I was a kid, every corner from Park Circle [on the neighborhood’s southern end] up to Rodgers [on the northern end, near Pimlico], was its own different drug shop,” said Scott, who recently turned 40. “The reason I am in public service is because the first time I saw someone shot, I was outside playing basketball at like 6 or 7 years old.”
There are many fine blocks in the neighborhood, some lined with stone-front row homes and tidy lawns. New development, including several apartment buildings and streets filled with rebuilt townhomes, have sprung up in recent years. But more obvious are the hundreds of decaying buildings and acres of vacant lots that scar Park Heights. Some of the vacant land extends for entire blocks, in part the result of a city effort that demolished more than 400 structures in the area since 2010, according to local development officials.
The commercial strips closest to Pimlico are mostly a collection of convenience stores, barber shops, carry-outs and small West Indian restaurants.
Community leaders have long complained that the track does nothing for local businesses. The sprinkling of racing fans who show up during the short spring meet are virtually invisible outside Pimlico’s gates. Even on Preakness weekend, when tens of thousands of racing fans stream into the track, betting millions of dollars, the action does not spill over appreciably into the neighborhood.
“Here’s a fun fact that is a challenge for me sometimes to swallow …” said Yolanda E. Jiggetts, chief executive officer of Park Heights Renaissance, a community development organization. “These businesses in Park Heights actually lose money historically during the Preakness.”
Elizabeth Wiseman, board co-chair of the Pimlico Community Redevelopment Compact, explained that during Preakness it is impossible to park on the street. Plus, she said, few Preakness goers even think to spend time or money in the neighborhood. “There is not the type of synergy we’d like to see in the future where people are walking fluidly from the track to the stores and restaurants,” she said.
Community leaders say they aren’t solely relying on the Pimlico project to uplift the neighborhood. A rebuilt Pimlico could be the catalyst Park Heights needs to boost its image and speed ongoing improvements, but in recent years, Jiggetts’ organization also has guided the building of several new housing developments and deployed a team of workers that cuts overgrown lawns, cleans alleys and annually removes more than a hundred tons of trash dumped in the neighborhood.
The group has also assembled a list of initiatives it hopes to complete over the next five years, including giving home-preservation grants to nearly 2,000 residents, launching new job training programs and developing additional new housing.
In all, the wish list of upgrades carries a price tag of more than $100 million, and community leaders believe a rebuilt Pimlico can help generate the momentum — and money — needed to fulfill it.
“It is something much larger than just horse racing,” said Desiree Eades, a real estate and development consultant for Park Heights Renaissance. “That’s why development [of the track] is so important.”
After years of feeling locked out of the business of the race track, many say they are encouraged that the neighborhood’s perspective is finally being considered alongside the needs of horse racing.
“For people in a community that most of the time feels like they’re not heard, they were heard,” said Bishop Troy Randall, founder of @The House, a social service program. “And not only heard, they were respected.”
Still, there is cause for skepticism. Given the declining popularity of horse racing, the fear is that Pimlico’s facelift might be coming too late to help Park Heights.
May 11, a Saturday, was the third day of Pimlico’s spring meet, aided by pleasant weather with the sun peeking through the clouds. Yet hardly anybody was at the track. All but a handful of the long lines of betting windows were closed. The couple hundred horse players in the place were able to spread out at banquet tables and benches facing simulcast screens and red picnic tables lined up near the rail next to the track’s home stretch.
“When we were pulling up to the parking lot, it was a little bleak to see so many empty parking spaces,” said Atlas Pyke, who was at the track with his mother, Joyce Lombardi. “We basically drove right up to the rail.” Both Pyke and Lombardi said they hoped a rebuilt track would draw more people to Pimlico. But the reality may be that horse racing is simply not popular anymore, they said.
“I’m not sure that it’s a sport that everyone can relate to or even condone,” said Lombardi, who grew up riding thoroughbreds in rural Maryland. “It’s not great for horses.”
Maryland’s equine industry generates $2 billion annually in economic impact, state officials say, with $600 million of it tied to horse racing. The industry is widely regarded as a cultural pillar of Maryland, which Cross, of the racetrack authority, said has more horses per capita than any other state in the country. Overall, the equine business is responsible for a quarter of Maryland’s greenspace, he added.
“There’s a disproportionate state impact in the continuation of the business,” Cross said. “But in order to have that economic impact be sustainable and continue, you need a big investment of capital. And the returns on the capital just aren’t enough for a private, for-profit operator to put in $400 million to $500 million, as we’re about to do.”
Under terms of the deal, the Preakness will stay at Pimlico this year and next, then move 21 miles southwest to Laurel while the facility is rebuilt. The hope is to return the event to Pimlico by 2027. After that, Laurel — located on more than 200 acres of prime land in the prosperous suburbs between Baltimore and Washington. D.C. — is slated to close.
Maryland officials expressed confidence they will be able to do what the Stronach Group could not in recent years: make money with Pimlico. “We think it will be more than profitable,” Cross said.
A financially healthy Pimlico that shares its bounty with the surrounding neighborhood is something local leaders are counting on.
Long before running the local development board, Jiggetts grew up in Park Heights. As a little girl, she would accompany her grandmother to the track so frequently that she got to know many of the people who worked there. Some of them would keep an eye on her while her grandmother placed bets. The track taught Jiggetts to love horses, but it also taught her the dangers of gambling. She says her grandmother fell into debt because of losses at the track.
“You know, that was her favorite pastime but also her addiction,” Jiggetts said. Now, she hopes the track can give something back. She wants to see people coming to Pimlico visiting local coffee shops, or dining at local restaurants after the races.
Banking on horse racing to help struggling Park Heights might be a long shot, but for many people from the neighborhood it looks like their best bet.
“You can see that stuff’s starting to happen,” Scott said. “People want to come back. Investment is happening. Reopening the rec center. Renovating the pool for the first time since it was built. Doing all of those things. Pimlico will just help us to unlock that.”
The Chicago White Sox are struggling in 2024. In September, the White Sox tied the 2003 Detroit Tigers for the third-most losses in a season in MLB history. Chicago is on track to break the modern major league record for most losses — by the expansion 1962 New York Mets.
Check out the historical rundown below:
Worst Records, MLB History
(Min. 150 Games Played; W-L, Win Pct)
1899 Cleveland Spiders: 20-134, .130
1916 Philadelphia A’s: 36-117, .235
1935 Boston Braves: 38-115, .248
1962 New York Mets: 40-120, .250
1904 Washington Senators: 38-113, .252
Most Losses in a Season, MLB History
(W-L, Win Pct)
1899 Cleveland Spiders: 20-134, .130
1962 New York Mets: 40-120, .250
2003 Detroit Tigers: 43-119, .265
1916 Philadelphia A’s: 36-117, .235
2018 Baltimore Orioles: 47-115, .290
1935 Boston Braves : 38-115, .248
For more MLB coverage, check out the ESPN hub page for breaking news, rankings, recaps, stats, standings, scores, schedules, and more.
Sports
‘You have to have a sense of humor’: How baseball’s all-time worst squad is coping with defeat
-
Jeff Passan, ESPN
CHICAGO — Last week, hours after the Chicago White Sox‘s latest attempt to win a baseball game fell apart in typically absurd fashion, Davis Martin could only chuckle. Every White Sox player has found a coping mechanism to endure the 2024 season, and Martin’s is laughter. Unlike much of the sports world, he’s not snickering at the team, but rather at how every day seems to invite something more farcical than the previous.
Martin was the starting pitcher in that game, looking to secure Chicago’s first win at Guaranteed Rate Field in a month. Going winless at home for so long is almost impossible for a Major League Baseball team. The White Sox seem to specialize in acts of futility: Sometime in the next 10 days, they could lose their 121st game and pass the 1962 New York Mets for the most losses in an MLB season since the dawn of the 20th century. Never in baseball’s modern history has the game witnessed a team like the 2024 White Sox, whose commitment to the bit of playing a positively wretched brand of baseball has not waned even as the season has.
In only the past month, they offered third baseman Miguel Vargas running into outfielder Andrew Benintendi, and infielder Lenyn Sosa not knowing a between-innings throw from a catcher was coming to second base and wearing the ball off his face, and Andrew Vaughn hitting what looked like a walk-off home run only for Texas outfielder Travis Jankowski to reach over the fence and yank it back for what may be the catch of the year. In Martin’s start, a 6-4 loss, the Cleveland Guardians twice scored a pair of runs on infield singles, a laughable way for Chicago to drop its 15th straight game at home.
“You have to have a sense of humor,” Martin said. “You walk that fine line of being on the edge of losing your mind — always on that razor’s edge. We’re just watching it all, and we’re like, oh my gosh, this happens and this happens. Truly, it’s so many things.”
For 5½ months now, the White Sox have redefined losing in sports. Five NFL teams have ended a season winless, and in the NBA the 1972-73 Philadelphia 76ers went 9-73, and two years later the NHL’s Washington Capitals won eight of the 80 games they played, but nothing compares to the march of doom that is a cursed baseball season: 162 opportunities to plumb the reaches of ineptitude. These White Sox are not powerful, and they are not fast, and they field poorly, and they throw recklessly, and they pitch inconsistently, and they bungle fundamentals. They are a bad baseball team. They have earned their 36-115 record. They know this. They have tried to remedy it. They have failed.
So they do what they can to avoid the vortex of losing, the inertia of it all, poisoning their futures. What it’s doing to their present, on the other hand, is surprising. Over two games with the team last week, the clubhouse of perhaps the losingest team ever was not dour or depressed — not like one might expect from a group transcending baseball notoriety and permeating the grander sporting consciousness. White Sox players were shockingly well adjusted. Angry at the results but not brooding. Embarrassed by the losses but refusing to roll over. Handling their misfortune in a reasonable, healthy, mature fashion and not like losers who would cast blame and fight one another, as have past White Sox teams.
“We’ve talked about like, ‘Oh, we’re having a good time.’ We are,” said Martin, a 27-year-old right-hander who’s thankful to be back after he missed last season rehabilitating from Tommy John surgery. “Really, these are a great group of guys. And I think if there was any other group of guys in here, it would be the most miserable existence ever. People are like, ‘Oh, how are you not losing your mind?’ We’re a bunch of young idiots just trying to make sure we have a job next year.”
Plenty of them will return, the consequence of a thin farm system and a team planning to devote its financial resources not to free agents who could heal some of the on-field wounds but toward fixing internal systems long ignored by ownership. Even with a surfeit of talent, the chances of the White Sox being this bad again are minimal. It is a generational sort of bad, the kind that has forced players to ask themselves: Where, in this cascade of awfulness, can they find some good?
LOSING AT ANYTHING takes a toll. It irradiates self-worth. It evaporates motivation. Athletes in particular spend their entire lives building up psyches strong enough to spare them from the vagaries of failure. Every major league player has been felled and gotten back up. Anyone who reaches the big leagues has inherently won. Which makes this all so particularly diabolical. The night before Martin’s start, Sean Burke, a big, talented right-hander, made his major league debut in relief. He allowed one unearned run over three innings, but the loss still gnawed at him.
“I’ve been all around winning teams my whole life,” Burke said. “I won when I was 9 years old in Little League. I won when I was in high school. I won when I was in college. This is kind of the first time I’ve been on a team that hasn’t been winning a ton.”
The White Sox have lost a ton. They started their season 3-22, then won 11 of their next 19 games and offered a sliver of hope. It soon vanished. They lost 14 consecutive games between the end of May and beginning of June. They one-upped themselves with a 21-game skid that started before the All-Star break and ended after the trade deadline. Another 12-game losing streak bridged August and September. At one point, the White Sox lost 45 of 50 games, the second-worst stretch ever behind the 1916 Philadelphia A’s, who went 36-117-1.
Before the game Martin pitched, left-hander Garrett Crochet — the leader of the staff and the lone White Sox All-Star, making him a likely trade candidate amid this rebuild — was talking with nearby locker neighbor Jonathan Cannon, a 24-year-old rookie who had started the night before and pitched well, only for Chicago’s offense to get shut out for the 17th time this season.
Cannon and Crochet started going back and forth about the season, and what came of it wasn’t just an examination of the White Sox but a treatise on the slow-burning devastation of losing.
Cannon: “When you’re having a season like this, it feels like nothing’s going your way. When we played the game the other day against the Orioles [an 8-1 win Sept. 4], it just felt like balls are falling, line drives are going to people when we’re on the mound. It’s like, ‘Wow, this is great.'”
Crochet: “It seems like once an inning, we will give up the flare single and then every time that we hit the flare on offense and it’s like, ‘Oh, that one’s falling,’ someone dives and catches it.”
Cannon: “Even yesterday, the first inning, you get the first guy and then a little flare over the shortstop and it’s like, ‘Oh, not the cheap hit again.'”
Crochet: “Then we had a guy in scoring position and [Bryan] Ramos hits a ball 106 and [Guardians third baseman Jose] Ramirez falls down catching it. It’s like, ‘F—, man.'”
Cannon: “The peak of that was when Jankowski robbed Vaughn’s walk-off homer.”
Crochet: “Yeah!”
Cannon: “Just the feeling in the dugout — I can’t even describe what it was. I think we stared at each other for 30 minutes after and then we come back and it’s all over Instagram and everything, and it was arguably, because of the situation, maybe the best catch I’ve ever seen. And of course he just got put in the game for that inning.”
Crochet: “It was just an overwhelming feeling of ‘What the f—?'”
WHEN THAT FEELING is at its most overwhelming, Grady Sizemore tries to minimize it. Sizemore is the White Sox’s manager, appointed to the job in early August after the team fired Pedro Grifol, who over his 1½ seasons on the job won 89 games and lost 190. Before this season, Sizemore had never coached, but he made a strong enough impression as one of Chicago’s five major league coaches over the first four months that White Sox general manager Chris Getz, himself in his first full season, did not hesitate hiring him in an interim role. Over the last 45 games of the season, Getz wanted a different sort of approach than the intensity with which Grifol led — something more relaxed and nurturing.
Sizemore is 42 but could pass for 30. He is the only manager in MLB who wears a mullet — and he pulls it off with aplomb, framing a face that 20 years ago made him the most eligible bachelor in Cleveland. No manager in baseball can match Sizemore’s talent when he played for Cleveland in the mid-2000s. He made three All-Star Games by the time he turned 25 and looked destined for greatness before injuries waylaid his career. He retired at 32.
“I’ve kind of been in every scenario,” Sizemore said. “I’ve come up as a rookie, I’ve had some success. I’ve been a veteran who’s been more of a leader, and I’ve kind of been a guy who’s struggled with injuries and seen his play decline. I’ve gone through the whole gauntlet of what a player could go through. So I feel like I can understand where all the guys are at mentally and what they’re thinking.
“And then I took time away, too, had a family. I had to go through all of that, what it’s like to be a parent. It teaches you a lot of patience, and it teaches you how sometimes you have to say things over and over again. As a parent, it’s very hard. Even after you’ve figured it out, you haven’t figured it out. So I think the best part about where I’m at is I know that I haven’t figured anything out and that every day is a new day to learn something new and to get better.”
Sizemore’s approach reflects the revamp taking place at the top of the organization.
When owner Jerry Reinsdorf promoted Getz to GM after firing longtime executive vice president Kenny Williams and GM Rick Hahn last August, Getz hired an array of outsiders, an unfamiliar approach for an organization that was as insular as any at the behest of Reinsdorf, whose loyalty to employees has been a hallmark as well as a detriment. Brian Bannister, Getz’s former teammate in Kansas City and a longtime pitching guru, took control of the system’s arms. Josh Barfield and Paul Janish, both former big leaguers, are central in player-acquisition and player-development roles. And Brian Mahler — a former Harvard lacrosse player who went on to become a Marine and Navy SEAL before earning a law degree from Georgetown — joined the White Sox as director of leadership, culture and continuing education.
Mahler, who came into the organization having never worked in baseball, is at the heart of the overhaul in Chicago’s front office, and a committee headed by Mahler is expected to recommend a suite of changes for the organization to institute in the coming years. It’s a multiyear project with a focus, sources said, on optimizing resources, scaling processes and connecting departments. And Reinsdorf, who is 88, is backing it after years of wanting to win now.
He understands that doing so with the sort of roster that Chicago currently has is simply untenable unless he wants to spend heavily in free agency — something he has railed against for decades and never himself done as an owner. In a rare public statement last week, Reinsdorf said: “Everyone in this organization is extremely unhappy with the results of this season, that goes without saying. This year has been very painful for all, especially our fans. We did not arrive here overnight, and solutions won’t happen overnight either. Going back to last year, we have made difficult decisions and changes to begin building a foundation for future success. What has impressed me is how our players and staff have continued to work and bring a professional attitude to the ballpark each day despite a historically difficult season. No one is happy with the results, but I commend the continued effort.”
Fans appalled by the degradation of the White Sox in the two decades since their 2005 World Series title focus their discontent on Reinsdorf. The White Sox hold a unique place in Chicago’s sporting landscape. Being a Chicago sports fan imputes a particular sort of pain; being a Chicago sports fan who roots for the White Sox is a special subset of masochism. Their fan base is fiercely loyal and protective — of a history with ugliness (the 1919 Black Sox) and oddity (Disco Demolition Night and the myriad ideas of Bill Veeck) and richness (Hall of Famers Eddie Collins and Ed Walsh and Luke Appling and Nellie Fox and Minnie Miñoso and Frank Thomas). The White Sox’s drought before 2005 dated back 88 years, and yet their wait and championship were overshadowed by the Cubs’.
Now they can’t even tank like the Cubs did. New rules instituted in the last collective bargaining agreement penalize large-market teams like the White Sox by keeping them from receiving a draft lottery pick in consecutive seasons. Consequently, following what could be the worst season in baseball history, the highest Chicago can select in the draft next year is 10th. Embracing awfulness doesn’t even pay anymore.
Which is why Sizemore’s desire to build up these players and prepare them to win appeals to the White Sox front office. They’ve got some minor league talent — 19-year-old Noah Schultz is the best left-handed pitching prospect in baseball, and Hagen Smith, taken with the fifth pick in this year’s draft, isn’t far behind — but with money that otherwise would have gone to payroll helping fund the recommendations of the Mahler-led committee, the players here now will comprise a majority of the roster next season.
“We were very intentional on wanting to create an atmosphere that remained healthy for players to show up every day even though we’re faced with challenges,” Getz said. “These guys have shown up every day looking to compete knowing each game may be an uphill battle. There aren’t a lot of wins in our record. We’re looking to find wins in development, and the best way to do that is to have the best attitude possible about where we’re growing and what we’re learning.”
That falls on Sizemore. He enjoys managing, really enjoys it, even amid all the losses. When he walks through the clubhouse after games and pats players on the back, they appreciate his demeanor. He is positive without sounding fake, simultaneously thoughtful and supportive. In the offseason, as Getz chooses a new full-time manager, Sizemore’s efforts over the season’s final two months are almost certain to earn him serious consideration.
“You can focus on the negative all day,” Sizemore said. “And I know we’ve done our share of that too, but at the end of the day, I think this team lost a lot of confidence. We’ve been told for so long that they’re not doing this right. They’re not doing that right. And I just think that this game is too hard to play if you don’t have confidence. So all I’ve tried to do is try to restore some of that with the guys by being positive.
“We’ve had some tough losses and I’m like, ‘Don’t put your head down. Turn the music up. That was a good effort. I don’t care that we lost, we still played hard and we fought. I know mistakes are going to happen. Let’s try to limit the mental ones and the physical ones are going to happen, but let’s get better at playing together, communicating and trying to just be the best version of ourselves that day.'”
THE BEST VERSION of the 2024 Chicago White Sox showed up over the weekend. They finally won a home game after 16 straight losses, and then, for the first time in 2½ months, they won consecutive games, beating the Oakland Athletics, who themselves have known the feeling of ineptitude in recent years. On Monday, they extended their winning streak to three — one shy of their season’s best — with an 8-4 shellacking of the Los Angeles Angels. After wins, Nicky Lopez, the veteran infielder and a leader of the position players, assumes his clubhouse DJ role, cranks the music and relishes what victories mean when they’re in such short supply.
“We obviously cherish ’em a little bit more,” Lopez said. “The general public doesn’t know how hard it is to win a big league baseball game. The NFL, the NBA — it is hard to win a game, let alone consistently win games. But these ones are a little bit better. They’re hard to come by right now. And it always seems like there’s that one inning or that one play or that one moment just kind of gets away from us. When we put it together and get a win, we celebrate a little bit more.”
In the cascade of awfulness, this is where they find the good. In the positivity of Sizemore. In Benintendi, the veteran outfielder, winning Saturday’s game with a walk-off home run. In Fraser Ellard, the 26-year-old rookie reliever, recording his first major league save to close out Sunday’s victory and secure the win for Burke, who looked like an honest-to-goodness major league starter.
Five days earlier, Burke, 24, called his debut “the best day of my life” — a reminder that failure as a team and success for an individual are not mutually exclusive. Another awful day for the White Sox can be the best day of Burke’s life, and another loss for the White Sox can be another day that Lopez, a native of Naperville, a Chicago suburb, gets to play for his hometown team. There have been those moments for all 62 players who have worn a White Sox uniform this season, and as much as the world will remember 120 or 121 or 125 or however many losses Chicago ultimately books, the players themselves are not wired that way.
“I know what our record is, but we still expect to win,” Crochet said. “It’s not an overwhelming thing like, ‘Oh my god, we finally won a game.’ It’s not like that. We go into every game expecting to win. It’s just a matter of actually executing that.”
For at least a small stretch in September, that’s exactly what they’re doing. Suddenly their winning percentage has crept up to .238, better than the 1916 A’s. It’s the manifestation of Sizemore’s words. It can’t be this bad every year, won’t be this bad next year, even if the White Sox trade Crochet and center fielder Luis Robert Jr. and don’t spend any money this winter and waltz into 2025 with a roster even worse on paper than this season’s.
“Everything we’re learning this season is going to pay huge dividends for the young core,” Martin said. “It has to. Because otherwise, what’s the point?”
-
Max Olson, ESPN Staff Writer
AUSTIN, Texas — Arch Manning arrived in rather modest style.
Texas‘ team buses pulled up right on schedule outside Darrell K Royal-Texas Memorial Stadium at 4:40 p.m. Saturday. Manning stepped onto San Jacinto Boulevard in a navy suit paired with a white shirt and a brown striped tie. On his shoulders, he carried a black backpack as well as the modest weight of Texas fans’ hopes and dreams.
Unlike most of his Longhorns teammates, though, Manning did not wear headphones. On the team’s traditional Stadium Stampede walk into the stadium, lined with fans cheering while holding phones and horns up, the young quarterback took it all in.
“You need some time to just appreciate the opportunity,” Manning said later. “I’m blessed to be in this situation. I don’t take it for granted.”
The fifth-largest crowd in school history packed into DKR to catch a glimpse of the future of Texas football, an extended preview of how a five-star talent with a legendary pedigree will lead this program a year from now.
What those 102,850 folks witnessed during No. 1 Texas’ 51-3 blowout of UL Monroe on Saturday night was a bit more reasonable than their wildest expectations. Manning’s performance in his first college start reminded everyone he’s right on schedule, right where he’s supposed to be in his developmental process.
The redshirt freshman played a lot like a redshirt freshman: Great and not great, with a healthy mix of highlights plays and helpful lessons. He gave himself a C-plus for the night after completing 15 of 29 passes for 258 yards with two touchdowns and two interceptions.
Manning might have the potential for greatness in Steve Sarkisian’s offense, but he has still played in only five college games. Six and a half hours after he first arrived at the stadium, he was feeling the difference.
“The games feel long when you’re in there for the majority of it,” Manning joked. “They’re a lot longer than high school. That was most surprising.”
The Longhorns losing starting QB Quinn Ewers to an oblique injury last week against UTSA opened the door for Manning to wow the college football world. He came in cold off the bench, delivered five touchdowns and made everything look a little too easy. It was a stunning display from a kid with 11 career pass attempts at the college level, a backup with a ton of fame but not much film.
For a week, Manning got to be QB1 while Ewers focused on getting healthy. The sharp uptick in Longhorns fans donning Manning’s No. 16 jersey was easy to spot around campus on Saturday afternoon. Inside the stadium team shop, authentic Ewers and Manning jerseys were going for $149.99. There were plenty of Ewers jerseys on the rack three hours before kickoff, but the Manning threads were long gone. The shop produced another run of his jerseys this week in anticipation of demand, but they went fast.
Brian and Jessica McCreary both donned No. 16 jerseys as they awaited the team’s arrival on Bevo Boulevard. They bought theirs last year. They have Ewers jerseys at home, too. The husband and wife were eager to see more from Manning, but Brian sees the big picture as clearly as Texas’ head coach.
“If you know football,” he said, “you know Quinn is our quarterback.”
Ewers didn’t enjoy missing a game but stayed upbeat on Texas’ sideline. The 25-game starter, wearing his No. 3 jersey over a jacket, had an earpiece in his left ear to hear playcalls and chatted with Manning throughout. But the assignment for the night wasn’t to coach him up. Ewers needed to get Manning to relax.
“We talked about him doing his best to keep it light with Arch,” Sarkisian said. “Because when Arch keeps it light, he’s really, really good. We try to not let him get too, too focused.”
Manning needed that encouragement early. His opening drive ended abruptly when he forced a throw under pressure on second-and-4 that was picked off. He knew he should’ve thrown it away. Rookie mistake. On the bench, left tackle Kelvin Banks Jr. and center Jake Majors talked him down.
“It’s gonna happen, bro,” Banks said he told him. “Keep pushing.”
“Just keep being you,” Majors said.
“He holds himself to a high standard, which is good,” Banks said afterward, “so he definitely can have his moments where he gets real hard on himself.”
Sarkisian demands that next-play mentality to operate his system. The message in the week leading up to Manning’s first start: Don’t overanalyze, just execute. The game plan called for deep shots on ULM’s secondary. Manning hit quite a few, picking up 210 of his passing yards on eight completions.
The tradeoff? “When you get in that mode, sometimes you can start to get a little bit greedy,” Sarkisian said. Ask Manning what throws he’d like back and he can think of a few overthrows and underthrows in the second half that could’ve been checkdowns to easier completions.
“He was going to have some lessons learned,” Sarkisian said, “and I think that’s what tonight was about.”
It was never going to be about a quarterback controversy. Sarkisian made sure to set the record straight Thursday. It’s not just that Ewers is his quarterback. He foresees Ewers leading a national title run, going to New York for the Heisman Trophy ceremony and proving he’s a top-five draft pick. All of those goals are still on the table.
You won’t hear many head coaches publicly put that out there, but it speaks to Sarkisian’s confidence. Colt McCoy, back in town to be inducted into the Texas Athletics Hall of Honor, has lived with those expectations.
The last quarterback to lead Texas to a national title game sees greatness in both. McCoy knows Manning getting these reps will ultimately be beneficial for the entire team over the long haul of a 12-team College Football Playoff and the deep run this team is trying to make. And the Longhorns legend knows better than anyone what it takes to carry that weight.
“There’s a lot of pressure playing quarterback at the University of Texas, there’s a lot of expectations, everything that goes along with sort of being the guy,” McCoy said. “For them, I would just say you have a wonderful team around you.
“I mean, this team is built to win a championship. Just go out there and execute and stay focused and lean on each other.”
-
Sports2 years ago‘Storybook stuff’: Inside the night Bryce Harper sent the Phillies to the World Series
-
Sports6 months agoStory injured on diving stop, exits Red Sox game
-
Sports2 years agoMLB Rank 2023: Ranking baseball’s top 100 players
-
Sports11 months agoGame 1 of WS least-watched in recorded history
-
Environment1 year agoJapan and South Korea have a lot at stake in a free and open South China Sea
-
Sports3 years ago
Team Europe easily wins 4th straight Laver Cup
-
Environment2 years agoGame-changing Lectric XPedition launched as affordable electric cargo bike
-
Environment1 year agoTesla advances Powerwall pilot project with German electric company