I was initially disappointed when the Sox hired Ozzie as manager two years ago. I had been a big fan of Ozzie when he played for the Sox and I thought that he was being set up for failure. Boy, was I wrong. He may not be the best field manager in baseball, but his people skills are incredible.
The Tribune ran an article a couple of weeks ago about how the White Sox have been picking up a lot of Latino fans. Nothing new there. The area west of the park has become heavily Latino.
Both my parents grew up around 35th and Archer. My father used to walk to the park, where the groundskeepers would let him "sneak" in.
I hope the Sox put them away tonight.
Latinos see Sox as their kind of team
By Oscar Avila and Jon Yates
Tribune staff reporters
October 14, 2005
Victor Ceballo became a Sox fan just a year ago when he moved into an apartment nine blocks west of U.S. Cellular Field. The Mexican immigrant hasn't mastered English yet, but he speaks Sox--even recounting how the city let loose with air-raid sirens when the Sox reached the World Series in 1959.
"Could you imagine another World Series?" a wide-eyed Ceballo asked, taking a break from work at a Bridgeport taqueria.
The Sox have connected with Hispanic fans since the South Side became home to Latin American immigrants and baseball icons. But this Sox team has generated new fervor because of its playoff run and public face, a Venezuelan skipper who can talk strategy and spew expletives in two languages.
The Sox have capitalized on the popularity of Ozzie Guillen, their current manager and former shortstop, by reviving Spanish-language radio broadcasts and forming a Hispanic advisory committee to connect with a group that represents 80 percent of the Chicago area's growth since 2000.
As he watched the White Sox warm up before a playoff game this week, Marco Rosales effortlessly rattled off the team's Hispanic players, even obscure pitchers like Luis Vizcaino.
Cuban pitchers Jose Contreras and Orlando "El Duque" Hernandez, Venezuelan starter Freddy Garcia and Dominicans Juan Uribe, Timo Perez, Pablo Ozuna and Damaso Marte are also on the playoff roster.
"It influences the whole community," said Morales, who grew up a few blocks from U.S. Cellular Field. "A lot of Latino fans, you see them in the streets wearing White Sox hats, shirts and jerseys."
In the team's glory days of the late 1950s, it was Hall of Famer Luis Aparicio and Sox icon Minnie Minoso who brought a Spanish flavor to the South Side. The last manager to take the Sox to the Series was Al Lopez, actually Alfonso Ramon Lopez, born to immigrants from Spain.
Arturo Velasquez, 90, covered that World Series as a reporter for the Spanish-language newspaper La Raza, leaving his 9-year-old son, Ed, in the upper deck of old Comiskey Park for one of the games.
The elder Velasquez remembers seeing shortstop Chico Carrasquel at Mexican restaurants around town in the 1950s. Now, the Velasquezes say, the Sox have a new secret weapon: Ozzie.
The Sox manager has generated buzz among all Latinos, not just the city's small Venezuelan community. Guillen's weekly segments air on the sportscasts of the local Telemundo affiliate.
Ed Velasquez, 55, thinks Latino attendance has increased because of Guillen.
"Anybody who has a Latin accent can relate to him," said Velasquez, a member of the Hispanic advisory committee. "He doesn't speak perfect English, but he's leading the White Sox."
But Sox marketing officials know Guillen isn't enough, especially as they reach out to Latin American immigrants. Many newcomers, especially those from Mexico, see soccer as their sports passion.
The Sox revived Spanish broadcasts this year, after a six-year absence, and are airing playoff games in Spanish on WRTO-AM. They also hosted a Latino college night and employ Minoso as a community relations representative.
Next season, the team plans to have stadium employees who speak Spanish wear name tags that read, "Yo Hablo Espanol."
Jessica Priego, a member of the White Sox's advisory committee, said the team has also targeted young Hispanics and first-generation Americans, figuring they would be more likely to latch onto the team. These fans speak mainly English and grew up with A-Rod and Sosa, not with the Chivas soccer team.
"If we can get to these kids early, that's our next generation" of fans, said Priego, president of J Priego Communications, a marketing firm that has been hired by the Sox to reach out to the Latino community.
Roel Trevino is one of those second-generation fans. He attended his first Sox game at 14, inheriting his father's love of the team. He now owns La Jacaranda, a Little Village bar packed on game nights. The shelves behind the bar are filled with photos of Hispanic Sox icons he loves (Guillen, Minoso) and those he loathes (admitted steroid-user Jose Canseco's picture now faces the wall).
Like the Velasquezes, Trevino remembers that White Sox players used to be visible in the Mexican neighborhoods. Now, as athlete salaries skyrocket and players become more detached, Trevino laments that even Spanish-speaking Sox players don't come around anymore.
"We would love to see them more. This neighborhood loves them," Trevino said.
White Sox officials and their backers acknowledge that they can do better.
"In some ways, I feel like we've just dipped our toes into it," said team spokesman Scott Reifert, referring to the new Hispanic marketing push.
"It's like creating this great big party in your home and then not sending invitations," Priego added. "Now we're sending out those invitations."
Perhaps the most promising development is that those invitations are to the Sox's new neighbors.
Bridgeport, the historic home of Comiskey Park, European immigrants and generations of Daleys, now has a Latin feel, too. About 30 percent of the neighborhood is Hispanic, according to the 2000 census.
Those changes mean Ceballo is cheering for his neighborhood team. When he moved into Bridgeport, his new neighbors quietly explained it to him: He would be a Sox fan now.
Ceballo has never been to a game because he is usually running deliveries for Taqueria San Jose, 3253 S. Halsted St. But he makes it a point to drive by the ballpark on game nights. When the scoreboard explodes with fireworks, signaling a Sox home run, he calls his boss at the restaurant with the good news.
"I enjoy being close to the stadium, just to feel the emotion," said Ceballo, 26. "On the one hand, you feel bad because you can't be inside. On the other hand, I am still supporting them in my mind."
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oavila@tribune.com
jyates@tribune.com
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