Why Justin Ishbia’s Words Matter — And Why White Sox Fans Are Letting Themselves Believe

Steward — noun — “a person whose job it is to organize a particular event, provide services to particular people, or take care of a particular place.”

That’s according to the Cambridge Dictionary. It’s also what private-equity investor and Chicagoland billionaire Justin Ishbia called himself in a recent interview with Jon Greenberg of The Athletic.

Fresh off a trip to Rome — where he met Pope Leo XIV to talk about the role of sports in diplomacy — Ishbia made his first public comments about his investment agreement with Jerry Reinsdorf, the longtime White Sox chairman. Someday soon, that role will be Ishbia’s.

I won’t bore you by regurgitating the details of that deal or revisiting the timeline for when he can take over. I’ve already written a handful of stories that delve into that very thing. 

Instead, I want to talk about Ishbia — the man who will eventually hold the walfare of so many Chicagoans in his hands.

And why, for the first time in a long time, White Sox fans feel something we haven’t felt in years:

Legitimate Hope.

Only the most die-hard sports fan understands the weight behind Ishbia’s words. For people born and raised to love a baseball team — especially an underdog like the White Sox — for those of us who live and die with all 162 every season, years of pain and deep passion can subtly turn to apathy and resignation if you’re not careful.

And being a White Sox fan — for at least most of my cognitive life as a 25-year-old man who was just five when the Sox won the World Series back in the day — my investment has probably looked more like insanity to the objective outsider. 

Since I entered middle school, the White Sox are a remarkable 279 games under .500. They've had just one season with 82 or more victories, two playoff appearances, and they have never advanced in the postseason.

I’ve watched them miss on marquee free agents year after year. I’ve been sold not one but two full-scale rebuilds. And every time, I somehow talk myself into believing again.

I'm not foolish enough to mutter the words "this is our year" when the preseason PECOTA projections pin the Sox as a fourth place team. It's not that kind of belief. But somehow, I manage to convince myself that the organization is on the right path, that things are actually changing for the better. That, even if minimally, they are getting closer. Deep down, I know better.

Because as long as Jerry Reinsdorf is in charge, the status quo will never change.

And as the organization hit new lows — 121 losses in one season was quite literally a low no other team has ever seen — I found my mind drifting to the darkest corner of fandom possible.

In 2021 — the only time in the last 17 years that White Sox fans could attend a home playoff game — I sat in the upper deck of Guaranteed Rate Field with my dad for Game 3 of the ALDS against the Houston Astros. The White Sox won that night thanks to Leury García, the unlikeliest of heroes.

It was a fleeting victory considering they lost the series 3–1 just a few short days later. But it was, at the time, the closest I’ve felt to true joy watching one of my favorite sports teams play. Real, unfiltered, childlike joy.

I told my dad after that game that we’d be back in attendance next year, when the White Sox returned to the ALDS. I even went as far as to say that I’d spare no expense on World Series tickets when this core inevitably punched their ticket to the fall classic. 

Oh, how green I was.

Spoiler alert! The White Sox have not been back. Not even close.

And so instead, I sit on my couch every October watching other fanbases get their moment during the MLB playoffs. I shed empathetic–and admittedly envious–tears for those that finally get to celebrate it being their turn.

And when Toronto came up short in Game 7 this year? My heart hurt for them. Same for Seattle.

But like Tennyson once wrote, “’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” At least those teams and those fans got there. At least they got to feel something.

With Reinsdorf in charge? I have genuinely feared we never will again.

But for the first time since I was walking down the exit ramps of Guaranteed Rate Field with my dad chanting “Sox in 5” to a chorus of 40,000 other hopefuls painted black, I actually have a spark of hope that I, too, will get my turn for a magical October.

And it’s all because Justin Ishbia seems to understand the magnitude of the position he’s stepping into.

“You’ll never hear me say the word ‘owner’ of the franchise,” Ishbia told The Athletic this week. “I’m the steward of a community asset. This asset, this team, this franchise belongs to the city of Chicago, and I am a temporary steward. There’ll be somebody after me who will have an opportunity to create memories for our fans in the city of Chicago.”

That’s no PR spin and it's a far cry from Reinsdorf’s business-first mindset. That’s a man who understands why a sports team matters.

You want to know why sports fans watch every game, spend countless dollars on tickets, and ride the emotional roller coaster that is the season? It’s to feel something. It’s to be a part of something bigger than themself and create core memories that can't be manufactured otherwise. 

And Ishbia sees that — because he has many memories of his own.

“My dad and I have gone to opening day at the Detroit Tigers (every year)," said Ishbia. “Him and I have gone to every Major League Baseball stadium. I go to dozens and dozens of games per year. I grew up playing baseball. I played for a long time. I watched every game of the World Series. I’m a baseball guy. I love baseball. That’s my cord, I hope, to fans of Chicago. One day, when I’m in the role of leadership and stewardship, they will see my passion for the game. That’s my job to communicate that.”

And the cherry on top? The future White Sox owner vowed to keep the team in Chicago, and build a new stadium that Sox fans can call home. 

While Reinsdorf flirts — almost threatens — with a move Nashville to play political chess, Ishbia shut down those nightmares before he's even taken the reins. 

“I love Chicago,” he said. “Put it this way: If I wanted to have a team that was not in my hometown, I probably should have (bought) the Twins"

Let that wash over you, Sox fans. For a franchise defined by uncertainty, dysfunction, and dread, that’s not just refreshing. It’s revolutionary.

I don’t mean to be hyperbolic when I say I’ve never read a more exciting set of quotes regarding one of my favorite sports teams. Ishbia's imminent takeover may just be the greatest thing to happen to the Chicago White Sox and their loyal fans since that 2005 run. 

It’s all talk until action, of course. And the transition of power won’t happen for a while. But for once, the light at the end of the tunnel doesn’t feel like an oncoming freight train.

It feels like someone finally gets it.

Like Steve Cohen gets it. Like Mark Walter gets it. Both are owners who understand that they aren’t monarchs — they’re conduits for the hopes of millions.

Cohen is as good an example of any that passion for the product on the field doesn’t guarantee hardware. But ever since he stepped in as the owner of the New York Mets, the people in Queens have not gone into a single season without World Series aspirations. That’s not by accident. That's due to stewardship.

So if Justin Ishbia is who he sounds like he is?

The South Side might finally — finally — get to believe again.