Why Carson Fulmer is my favorite White Sox player

White Sox fans are very communal. They’re different from Cubs fans. Cubs fans wear the air of entitlement that North Siders feel is their birthright. Their team resides on the North Side of Chicago, the land of the Gold Coast, North Shore, and Northwestern. Their ivy-covered walls suggest Ivy League. If you’re a Chicagoan on whatever side of the North Side vs. South Side debate, you know exactly what I mean.

Wrigley is a smaller stadium, and as such tickets are more expensive. The fan base itself skews to a more affluent set, so you won’t typically find single moms taking their three young kids to a ball game. You’ll see that all over the place at a Sox game. At Wri,gley you’ll see professionals stumbling around drunk, at Sox games you’re more likely to see couples double dating. It’s just the way the demographics of each fan base in the context of each stadium environment plays out.

South Siders are different. Their team sits in a more industrial area. Their fan base is composed of families and neighborhoods, ethnic communities and commonality as opposed to exclusivity. If you have a family or grew up watching baseball games in Chicago, chances are you went to more Sox games than Cubs games. The fans too are more industrial and blue collar, and that shows in how they support their team.

Once I began rooting for Fulmer, my 17-year-old daughter Zelda became charmed. She is a tremendous Sox fan like myself – she’d better be – and she can name every member of the starting lineup without my coaching. But she doesn’t have a favorite player yet, so I began playfully pushing for her to join me in cheering Fulmer on. My wife joined in the fun too, and soon playful ribbing began to emerge between the three of us.

At one point and as a friendly wager, I challenged the two that I would create a Fulmer shrine in my mancave downstairs. I already had several Fulmer collectible items in the autographed balls from the Futures Game and his first Major League game, but I wanted something bigger and more personal.

I declared that I’d get an authentic White Sox jersey, get him to autograph it, and get pictures of me with him doing it. I not only wanted the provenance for the inscribed item, I wanted the experience. I literally bet my family that this was not only my goal, but I wouldn’t give up until I achieved it.

My first step was to reach out to a friend at the White Sox and seek his representation. Being a Contributor at Southside Showdown is an amazing experience, but it doesn’t come with the actual press credentials that MLB awards. I’m just a guy, a fan. I’m not an actual sports journalist. My contact was kind enough to point me to an agent, a sports agent named Matt who represents Fulmer.

I emailed Matt and wasn’t certain what to expect in return. In the email, I expressed my desire to get an autographed jersey and was willing to make a charitable contribution to the organization of Fulmer’s choice so as not to act as a completely selfish jerk. After a week or so, I got a response. Matt responded by asking if I had the jersey, which hilariously I didn’t! I was such a novice at this I had no idea that you needed to procure the item and then pursue getting it signed.

We played email tag back and forth for more than six months. Fulmer would be at Soxfest, would I be there? Nope. I’ll be in Chicago for a Crosstown game, could we make it happen? Missed on that too. Back and forth we went until eventually we both fatigued from the idea and it slipped from our minds.

This spring I got tickets to the Cubs-Sox game at Camelback Ranch for March 15th, and suddenly it occurred to me that Fulmer would be there. I emailed Matt back after no contact between the two of us for the past a number of months. It was a bit of a Hail Mary since we hadn’t communicated in so long, and I felt a bit pushy in assuming the body hadn’t gone cold in our communications.

After a couple of days, I received a brief email reply: “Email me on Wednesday.” This was two days out. A spark flickered in my hopes. Wow, might this still be possible? I couldn’t wait until Wednesday, and knowing I would be traveling and likely to forget I set an Outlook reminder to send the follow-up email.

Wednesday came and I emailed as requested, but didn’t hear back. I tempered my expectations to avoid disappointment. The game would still be great if this didn’t happen. Cubs-Sox games are always fun, and just being in the stands and bantering with Chicago fans of either club refreshing and enjoyable. I’m a big boy, don’t press this too much, I thought to myself.

Then on Thursday while flying from Boston to Phoenix for the game, I glanced at an email on my phone and saw a return note from Matt. It read simply, “Jeff- please email me your phone number. Get to game early. Go to foul pole near white sox pen. About 20 minutes prior to first pitch Carson will try to come out. I told him I’d tell u to hold up his jersey so he knows it’s u. He will sign ur jersey at that time.”

Holy crap. It was happening. I was excited and nervous. Again, I’m too experienced to get my hopes up about anything, but this seemed encouraging. And even if it didn’t happen, I had a note from his agent that clearly they had coordinated and discussed the idea. Wow! Fulmer was aware that I was a fan.

I let my buddies know I had to be at the game early, made sure I had my Fulmer jersey in tow and grabbed several paint pens in case the first didn’t work. I got to the game early as instructed, and made my way to the right field foul pole where the grass dips down to field level. There were only a few players out there at that point;  Yolmer Sanchez mixing fans with that beaming smile,  Engel respectfully signing for anyone who asked.

I looked into the bullpen and corner from time to time to see who else might be coming out. A player here, a pitcher there. Fulmer lost weight in the offseason and cut his hair. Maybe I wouldn’t recognize him? I held up the Jersey in case he could see me and I couldn’t see him.

Then it happened. Several players emerged from the tunnel and waded onto the right field grass. These were the Chicago White Sox! Major League players with major league talent. One guy walked out and a bit more toward the bullpen and separate from the others. He glanced back and toward my direction. I held up the jersey and when he saw me holding it, a big smile spread across his face and he flashed a sign that he knew who I was and began heading over.

Funny thing, I felt like a 10-year-old kid at that moment. My favorite player knew who I was and was heading over because he knew it was important to me. I felt like Andy Strauss being recognized by Roger Maris. As Fulmer got near and within earshot I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I could not be more excited!” I told him.

He came over and shook my hand, and let me know what a pleasure it was to meet me. He asked for the jersey which I handed over with the pen, and asked where I wanted the signature. I told him he was far more experienced that I was and would follow his recommendation. He spread it out flat against the wall, carefully inked his signature with his telltale “#51” nested within it, and handed it back. Again, I couldn’t hold my enthusiasm in.

“Omg, thank you!” I told him.

“No, thank you.” he responded.

We warmly shook hands again. And at that point, I saw my opening.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing.” I encouraged him. “You’re going to have a great year. Just keep giving ‘em hell!” I was partially referring to Major League hitters, and partially to the meathead fans and bloggers who’ve trashed him because they lack the depth and expertise to recognize major league ability and are miserable in their own lives.

Sincerely moved, Fulmer responded as sincerely as I spoke my words of encouragement. “Thank you so much. It means so much to me.”

And that’s where I really became moved, for this is what it means to be a fan. Everyone wants to be unconditionally supported. We all know what it means to have someone in our corner, whether a parent, spouse, friend or boss. Those people don’t come along every day, and when they do you need to wrap your arms around them wholeheartedly and protect those relationships with all your might. Fulmer moved me, and I moved Fulmer.

If you’re old and crusty and think this is beneath you, get off your high horse and live a little. Life is short. Feel the bounce in your step of what it feels like to be youthful again. It’s your choice, but I would recommend it. Come on in, the water’s fine. For your younger types who are too jaded to get into anything, yeah you’re cool. Go get another tattoo. Have fun trashing everything that you happen to be exposed to on social media. You’re too cool for school, so good luck in life with your crappy attitude.

For those of you kind of in the middle with your curiosity piqued, get involved! Watch this team. Get involved. Familiarize yourself with the MLB Pipeline Top 30 prospects for the Sox. Follow each minor league club and see the daily brilliance of young guys such as Danny Mendick, Jimmy Lambert, Eddy Alvarez, and Luis Gonzalez. There are a bunch of them out there, and they’re all real people just like you.

And for your youngsters, there is a tremendous lesson here. Don’t ever let anything get in the way of your dreams. It doesn’t matter what they are, or what anyone thinks of them or you for having them. Nothing is impossible! Chase your dreams and don’t stop until you realize them. This simple lesson is often the difference between those who get everything they want out of life, and those to feel they fall short and live with regret.

The next decade will be an amazing one for all Sox fans, but for those who want to make a difference, this is the time to invest emotionally. This is an incredible group of young men, and they can’t hear from us enough. Pick a favorite player and let them know you’re in their corner. It’s what being a fan – and a player – is all about.