Before I begin, I want to make one thing very clear: I'm not a sports buff. In fact, I'm very far from it. I'm only a Bulls fan because I'm from here. I'm only a Blackhawks fan because I'm from here. I'm a Bears fan because I don't want my mother to disown me. And I hate the Cubs...because I'm a White Sox Fan. I basically crawled out of the womb shouting "South SIIIIIDE!", and you couldn't get me to wear Cubbie Blue on a bad day.

Now, let me clarify when I say "fan." I don't mean that I like them or that I simply check to see if they win before I go to sleep at night. I mean that if you were to find my personality islands like in "Inside Out," the Chicago White Sox would be one of the islands and one of the moving parts would be Konerko's '05 Series Hit against the Astros.

Being a ChiSox fan has taught me a lot. It's taught my subconscious to awaken when hearing the first five notes of "Harvester of Sorrow" and it's taught me how to make friends. I can be innocently riding the El to my apartment in Wrigleyville traitor's territory and you better believe I compliment every speck of South Side paraphernalia I spot. That's an instant connection to every other 20-something, newly-wed and retiree with Comiskey Park in their veins and Southpaw in their heart. Because of the White Sox, I am a great loser, because I've been through it a lot. Because of the White Sox, I'm a horrible winner, especially if the CrossTown Classic is involved.

However, the way I have been most drastically changed by the White Sox isn't actually by the White Sox -- it's been through my mother. Obviously, it's not ingrained in any one person to love a sports team as a baby. Some people love a team because of where they're from and don't get me wrong -- I love Chicago. However, I love the White Sox because to me they represent the tradition within my family of White Sox pride. My mother learned her love of the Sox from her Grandmother, and I know my mom will be buying White Sox onesies for my children before I'm even showing. To me, the White Sox are about love: for your town, for your family, and for your home. To me, memories are about how you felt at the time, not what actually happened there. To me, the tears I cried as Konerko walked off the field for the last time were as genuine as the tears I cried when I got my heart broken.

The $5 nosebleed seats my mother buys will always hold a place in my heart. Even if the Sox get slaughtered, I still consider that a good game. To me, these games represent a time in my life where I feel loved and like I belong and everyone around me is working toward the same thing. That's what sports are all about, right? It's about bringing people together and taking a few hours out of our lives to just be together and to support our hometown and to all root for the same thing, no matter what's going on outside the park. Life isn't a formula, but for a few innings, I get to pretend that I'm 9 years old again -- sitting on the couch with my mom and my dad, watching baseball and just, being really, really happy. That's how the White Sox have changed me. I think that even if you aren't a White Sox fan, it's still the same thing. It's a love for the tradition for the love of your home. That's all it really is. It's a pretty neat thing if you ask me.