Art Berke, a lifelong White Sox fan, has worked at the highest levels of the sports industry with Major League Baseball, ABC Television and Sports Illustrated. He grew up in Northwest Indiana, in the shadow of old Comiskey Park, and proudly proclaims 2005 as the best year of his life. Art offers his glass half-full opinions and observations as he lives and dies with the Sox.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad!
I’m very fortunate. I’m 62-years-old and still enjoying the company of my Dad, SeymourBerke, who is on his way to 87.
While he’s lost his sight, his hearing is fading and he’s undergoing painful dialysis three times a week, I’m still able to share my life with him and talk about my career, my wife Bonnie who he adores, my golden retriever Happy and, of course, our beloved White Sox.
Many of our most cherished moments together have been following the Sox and going to countless games at old Comiskey and the Cell. In 1959, my Dad was able to get two tickets to Game 1 of the World Series, which the South Siders won 11-0. The bad news is that he had to work and didn’t go with me. For the next 46 years I regretted that I never got to go to a Sox World Series game with him. Then, in 2005, my disappointment ended. There we were at Game 1 of the ’05 Series witnessing the 5-3 win over the Astros.
It was a priceless moment that neither of us will ever forget. Sometimes I look back and think it was too good to be true, but I see that picture of the two of us in our Sox jackets and I know it really happened. And his comment after our heroes had finally won the World Series in Houston, was just as memorable. He said, “All those games, all those years, we finally did it.”