Alright, here it is. I've been silent long enough. For the past five weeks, I've had to bite my lip and hold my tongue as the Chicago White Sox, a team to whose allegiance was instilled in me while I was still in the womb, did something they hadn't done for almost a century: they won.

Yes, they won the World Series. And, while that ranks at the top of my list of the most amazing things I've ever witnessed, it doesn't come close to telling the whole story. Yes they won the title, but what's more is that after years of watching underachieving teams that whine too much and give up too easily, the White Sox finally fielded a team worthy of the neighborhood in which they reside and whom they represent, the south side of Chicago.

Now, I realize that the concept of a truly local team winning the World Series may seem foreign to anyone too young to remember the Kansas City Royals of 1985 (and last time I checked, that group included almost every student at UD), but that is only because we have all been fooled into thinking that teams like the Boston Red Sox and the New York Yankees are local. This is simply not the case. I don't care how close you are to your third cousin twice-removed that you've only met once who lives in the Bronx, that doesn't make you a life-long Yankees fan. And I don't care how cute the little red socks are on the front of that Bo-Sox hat you can all but buy at your local Abercrombie and Fitch, that doesn't make you a die-hard Red Sox fan.

This phenomenon was most apparent last October when, upon winning the title, the 'Red Sox Nation' miraculously expanded to cities like Columbus and Indianapolis which were, obviously, full of 'hardcore' Red Sox fans. Go figure.

I'm not trying to ignore the fact that the White Sox had their share of bandwagon fans, because they did. However, those fence-hoppers managed to contain themselves within the city of Chicago and, even if they managed to stray to other places, it did not result in the same large-scale appearance of 'hindsight' fans (people who, through some act of God, manage to always be a fan of the champs the day after they win) as the Red Sox title-run did last year.

I'm also not trying to insinuate that geography is the only reason to root for a sports team. Hell, I was pulling for Boston last year. It's ok to root for a team with which no have no tangible affiliation, but don't pretend like you live and die with them and always have just because they're the flavor of the week. There is no way that the Red Sox World Series victory could ever mean as much to Joe Schmo from Dayton as it does to someone hailing from the shadows of Fenway Park, whether that is due to geography or environment is another issue all together.

What am I trying to say with all of this? I'm trying to show that, despite the fact that Chicago is the nation's third largest city, the White Sox are truly a local team. Until this October, no one except a true fan would have ever admitted allegiance to a team as consistently mediocre as the White Sox. And, after a season of 99 wins, no one gave them a fighting chance in the playoffs.

That's why I held back. While they swept through the team they 'had no chance against' in the first round, I said nothing. Out of all the columns I wanted to write while they pummeled the Angels out west, where they 'can't win,' I wrote nothing. So now, after the Sox destroyed an Astros team that appeared to be sleeping through most of the series, I can finally say it. I can finally look every doubter, pessimist, north sider, and Tribe fan in the eyes and simply ask, 'Who's laughing now, punk'?

This season, the White Sox proved that you don't need a frenzy of media-hyped reporters and an army of fake-fans attached to your posterior to win a World Series. This year, there were no 'touching' cutaways to Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner cuddling during a crucial moment in the game. There were no obviously-out-of-place celebrities with tags hanging from their new hats stealing air-time from the game. Sox management even declined the ticket request of John Cusack, a life-long Cubs fan. The White Sox didn't need any of that. They had everything they needed right there at home, on the South Side of Chicago.

To Sox fans, the series wasn't about all of that media hype. The media and the bandwagon fans weren't there during the decades of obscurity, they weren't there when the south side lost its most promising team in generations to the strike of '94 and they certainly weren't there during the decade of frustration that followed. So why would we care if any of them showed up for our shining moment?

The Series meant a lot of different things to a lot of different people. To me, it was about my Grandpa, who instilled my alliance to the team at a very early age. It was about my Dad and brother who I talked with immediately after each playoff game. It was about my mom and her eight siblings, all of whom grew up on the South Side and finally saw their team win. Most of all, it was about stepping out of the obscurity cast on the White Sox both by the many seasons of mediocrity and the odd affinity of their cross-town rivals towards being proud, lovable losers, and finally showing the world what the south side of Chicago really stands for. It was about proving that the hard, blue-collar work ethic showed both by the Sox and their fans, does pay off, even if it takes 88 years. I mean, hey, that's how they do it on the South Side. And, for the first time in a very long time, that's how they did it at 35th and Shields, too. Thanks guys, it was truly a season I'll never forget.