[Hendu Style]

Sam Arkwright Diary
October 3rd, 2022

I'm back where this whole baseball mecca started. It's hard to believe that two and a half weeks ago, I was here in Chicago to see the Cubs play at Wrigley Field. Now this journey to see every Major League stadium is almost over.

Today's stop was at Guaranteed Rate Field on the South Side of Chicago. It's been around since 1991, but has gone through a slew of name changes since then. It was first known as Comiskey Park. Then it was dubbed U.S. Cellular Field in 2003. That changed in 2016, and it's been called Guaranteed Rate ever since. Until, of course, someone else buys the rights to the stadium name and changes yet again. I, for one, wish ballparks would just keep the same name for perpetuity. Can you imagine Fenway Park being called "Kum & Go Field?" Or Yankee Stadium being known as "IHOP Stadium?"

The man behind those name changes is Jerry Reindorf, the owner of the Chicago White Sox. I know enough about Reinsdorf to know he is an anti-union hardliner, and used his considerable political capital to block the sale of the Texas Rangers in the late 1980's, influenced the sale of the Seattle Mariners in the 1990's, and was largely responsible for the ouster of former Commissioner Fay Vincent.

In other words, he's not a man to be trifled with.

When I reached out to the White Sox about stopping by to see their ballpark and meet the owner, Reinsdorf's office sent me a note offering a tour from one of his assistants, and some face time with Jerry "time permitting." His office also left me a ticket at Will Call for Section 536. The upper deck. That would be an insult to most people, but as I have stated previously, I actually prefer the so-called "nosebleed" seats. They give a great view of the ballpark. Guaranteed Rate Field was no exception. I could see the Chicago skyline on one side, and the entire field and the stadium's iconic scoreboard and lights on the other.

I settled into my upper deck seat, with about half capacity for a Monday night game. 22,891 were in the stands to watch the White Sox play the Minnesota Twins. Word had gotten out that Tony LaRussa would not be coming back to manage the team again because of health issues, and that dominated the conversation among the blue collar fans around me. I'd imagine it was the same in the lower levels among the white collars.

The White Sox and Twins traded off 2-run homers in the first two innings. By the time the 5th inning rolled around, I figured Reinsdorf wasn't going to come, and I was growing tired of staying in the same seat. So I went down the ramp in search of better seats -- especially with the stadium only half full. It's one of my tried and true methods. The ushers usually stop checking tickets after the first few innings, which means those lower level seats are typically fair game. To my surprise, there were entry gates to get to different levels, each guarded by security staff who scan your tickets. In other words, if your ticket is for Section 536, you're stuck in the upper deck. Sure enough, when the usher scanned my ticket, she told me I couldn't go to the lower level. Not even for concession stands or other services on the lower levels. So I retreated to the nosebleeds in Section 536.

To my surprise, an usher came to my seat in the 6th inning, and told me, "Mr. Reinsdorf will see you now." It was almost like I was in the dentist's office. Immediately upon entering the owner's suite, I thought I'd rather get my teeth pulled than talk to Reinsdorf. He droned on and on about being the son of a sewing machine salesman, putting himself through college at George Washington University, and then leveraging a scholarship offer to the University of Chicago Law School to get a full ride at the Northwestern University School of Law.

Reinsdorf carried on about how his first job out of Northwestern was a tax delinquency case involving none other than former White Sox owner Bill Veeck. He then went into private practice, specializing in tax shelters for real estate. He eventually sold his business interests and formed Balcor, which raised $650 million to invest in buildings under construction. He amassed enough wealth to purchase the White Sox from Veeck in 1981 for $19 million. What Reinsdorf failed to mention was that he was Veeck's second choice, behind Edward DeBartolo, Sr. DeBartolo lost the bid when enough owners voted against his purchase of the White Sox. I can't help but think about Joe Lacob and his efforts to buy the A's -- it's all about who you know.

Reinsdorf rarely made eye contact with me, usually setting his gaze on the field as he spoke, or looking around the suite, fiddling with a napkin or a plastic fork. I found myself nodding off as he spoke. The man loves the sound of his own voice. I finally snapped out of it when Carlos Perez sent a base hit to left, scoring the go-ahead run from second base. 3-2 White Sox. Reinsdorf gave an approving nod and an awkward fist-bump gesture to me. I reciprocated, and then said he had to get going. Thank goodness for that.

The White Sox wound up winning the game. I couldn't wait to get out and fly out to Texas. History awaits in Arlington.

Pictured: Guaranteed Rate Field