The Soxman Crush-eth

It is now a bona fide, certified, verified, dyed-in-the-wool fact: I am a geek.

Why?

Because I have a crush on a masked man.

And no, it’s not the Lone Ranger, or Zorro, and it’s not even Batman. It’s our very own Dark Knight.

I have a crush on Soxman.

Paul Banks, founder of The Sports Bank, held a contest on his site for a chance to attend last night’s White Sox game with him, Bears (and Cubs!) fan Sarah Spain, Soxman, and me.

I had never been to a Sox game before, and I was filled with anticipation as the Red Line pulled to a stop outside the stadium. My first game, and I was going to meet the character who inspired nearly 180 comments on NBC5’s Street Team blog, and I was with one of the few who knows Soxman’s real identity.

Sarah and I waited while Paul met the masked man in his lair. As they came up the street horns honked and people waved. Walking to the stadium was a stop-go, stop-go affair as fan after fan stopped to get pictures with the hero. We finally arrived at the park and met Paul’s friend Bill Corcoran and the winner, Aaron, who had driven all the way up from Indianapolis.

On the way to our box seats Soxman high-fived toddlers and posed with babies. Young boys and girls alike looked at him with glee and awe. One child in particular gazed up at him like he was Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy all rolled up into one caped crusader of happiness.

What woman wouldn’t have a crush?

Throughout the night I was struck by images of the Pied Piper, of Pinocchio’s trip to Pleasure Island, of Willy Wonka’s lure of candy and chocolate. But in all those stories of hope and promise the children are met with some nefarious elements, and Soxman is anything but. He’s just a guy who loves baseball and his team and wants to share that love. He walks the corridors and roams the stands and brings a smile to everyone who sees him.

Sigh.

Of course, by spending the evening with a baseball team’s unofficial ambassador in a stadium packed full of die-hard fans, I saw more action on the screen and on the faces of the fans than I did on the field. But I am definitely not complaining. As first games go, that was one for the record books.

Late in the game I heard my name called. Two friends I hadn’t seen in awhile happened to be sitting a few rows up from us. Female friends. Who asked me, with a hint of jealousy (at least it sounded that way to me) “are you with Soxman? What’s he like?”

Let’s just say when there was talk of going out after the game I was really, really hoping he’d come, especially after he wrapped his arms around me and gave me a kiss on the cheek for a picture. Unfortunately, “Bruce Wayne Parker,” his alter ego, had to work in the morning.

I may not be a damsel in distress, but if Soxman ever wants a Lois Lane or a Mary Jane or a Vicki Vale, I hereby volunteer for the job. He can be my hero any day.

 

 

 

 

 

More pictures to come!


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