You know, I really hate the “New” Comiskey Park. It’s clean, sterile, visitor friendly and absolutely lame. There, I said it.

My reasons for thinking this way should be obvious. See, I was raised as a true Sox fan. This means that I absolutely despised the Cubs (still do!), hated Milwaukee Brewer fans and loved being rowdy and obnoxious in the stands at old Comiskey Park.

Although Sox games didn’t become truly lame until the new park opened in 1991, the downfall began when “Rein-horn” purchased the team from Bill Veeck over the winter of 80-81.

The sad part of the whole thing is that looking back, I remember applauding the move, feeling that the team would finally have the financial resources to buy good players and turn the team into a contender, something than anyone under the age of 50 at the time could not remember ever being applied to the Sox.

And it worked, for a very brief time period. The team signed Carlton Fisk over that first winter and would go on to spend some serious money. The strike-shortened 1981 season would mark the first time since 1977 that the Sox would have an over .500 record. Two years later, the Sox would win 99 games and win their first ever division title.

However, in the process, “Rein-horn” fired Harry Carey and Jimmy Piersall, took the team off channel 44 and created Sports Channel, making us pay to watch our team and created a “family atmosphere” at the ball park, which basically meant you could get busted for yelling too loud or swearing. Yep, they really knew how to ruin a good time.

What’s more, after 1983, the Sox became the Sox again and began losing once more.

That’s just history though, a background to explain why all this happened; why the Sox, a team that used to be so full of charisma, are now just another corporate entity.

I remember how much fun the games used to be. I remember opening day 1974 when everyone was running around naked. I remember when the Sox wore shorts during a game against Kansas City in 1976.

Best of all, I remember going to games during that awesome, miracle season of 1977. That year, every time sluggers Richie Zisk and Oscar Gamble came to the plate, a sign would unfold on the left field wall that read “Deposit Baseball Here.” More often than not, that’s exactly what would happen. Then, the exploding scoreboard would go off and the fans would sing “Na-Na-Na-Hey-Hey-Goodbye” as the opposing manager would pull whatever poor pitcher had the misfortune of being in the game at the time.