Thumbnails | Next player Hurt So Good: The once-competitive White Sox go into battle with slugger Frank Thomas and a bunch of youngsters. He was smiling like Matt Kuchar when he arrived at Comiskey Park last Friday for the home opener, the big grin making him seem another unfamiliar face in a clubhouse full of them. The Chicago White Sox have surrounded him with strangers, many of whom still possess only Triple A skills, but the White Sox' best hitter since Shoeless Joe Jackson says he went into the 1999 season with one simple goal: to fit in with his young teammates, whoever they are. "All I want to do this year is be one of the guys," says Frank Thomas. Thomas has a better chance of hitting .400 and stealing 40 bases. On this Chicago team, the designated hitter-first baseman will be just one of the guys the way Gladys Knight was just one of the Pips. Albert Belle and Robin Ventura are gone, and so, almost certainly, is the slight chance the White Sox had of making the playoffs. Welcome to the South Side of Chicago, the biggest small market in the American League. The White Sox payroll for 1999 is $24.2 million, the seventh lowest in the majors and $17.6 million less than it was two seasons ago. For its second home game of the season, on a sunny afternoon last Saturday, Chicago announced an attendance of 11,908. That night, three miles away at Soldier Field, Major League Soccer's Chicago Fire drew 27,311. The White Sox' new marketing slogan is "The Kids Can Play" -- an oddly adolescent message for a club whose most identifiable player is a 30-year-old probable Hall of Famer. More appropriate, perhaps: Big Hurt, Little Hope. -- Gerry Callahan and David Sabino Issue date: April 19, 1999 Photograph by Ronald C. Modra Sports Illustrated on Baseball | Team-by-Team Reports Rookie of the Year Watch | SI's Inside Baseball Archive

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