White Sox shortstop Colson Montgomery has been a major leaguer for nearly a week now. When does he start to become his generation’s Derek Jeter?
“Yeah, right,” he said Tuesday, a few hours before collecting his first hit at Rate Field, and his sixth in a Sox uniform — along with his first error — in a game against the Blue Jays.
It might seem utterly ridiculous to compare Montgomery with his all-time favorite player, but that’s only because it is. Of course it’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous to view the Sox, who haven’t won a playoff series in 20 years, as being in the same league as more serious organizations. It’s ridiculous to think a team on its way to a third straight 100-plus-loss season has a bright future. It’s ridiculous to believe the Sox will spend competitively and their rebuild — after rebuild — will go as planned. Ridiculous is the Sox’ brand. Open your mind to the possibilities if you dare.
More than good enough would be if Montgomery, the Sox’ most-talked-about prospect since they made him a first-round pick in 2021, were to live up to the very best potential version of himself. And what would that — the full Monty, so to speak — look like? A reporter heard himself pose the question and was quite relieved to learn Montgomery had neither seen nor heard of the film that came out five years before he was born.
“I envision myself as an All-Star someday,” Montgomery said. “Sometimes it doesn’t work out, but I hope that happens.”
Since we’re talking about hope, dare we admit to having another ridiculously far-fetched idea? Keep in mind we’ve got a theme going here. And this fanciful notion is that the Sox have also found their second baseman of the future in Chase Meidroth, also 23, and will end up with their own approximation of the relationship that spurred so much Cubs success during the previous decade.
Sox fans probably won’t appreciate the analogy, but it goes — or went — by the moniker “Bryzzo.”
Kris Bryant was the most can’t-miss Cubs prospect of them all, and he didn’t miss. Anthony Rizzo was the Mr. Cub of his time. They weren’t just good players; they had a bromance heard ’round the world. For a special time, Cubdom swooned over the good vibes.
Then there are the Sox, who in recent years have managed to have their biggest names also be their most unpopular names. Ask Yoan Moncada, Eloy Jimenez and Tim Anderson how warm and fuzzy they felt at Rate Field. There isn’t a team in Chicago that’s more in need of players around whom fans actually feel good about rallying. If those players happen to form a double-play combination that can help spirit the Sox out of the abyss, through the wilderness and toward something brighter, all the better.
Montgomery and Meidroth, who got a rare night off Tuesday, are already feeling it — big-time.
“It sounds crazy, but it feels like we’ve been [together] for five years now,” said Meidroth, in his first year in the organization after coming from the Red Sox as part of the Garrett Crochet trade. “I feel like Colson is a brother to me already.”
Isn’t that a little strong?
“No,” Meidroth said. “That’s how much we bicker out there.”
Take Monday night, when Meidroth dove for a foul ball but couldn’t quite get to it.
“Hey, nice catch, man,” Montgomery deadpanned.
“[Bleep] you, dude,” Meidroth replied, trying not to laugh.
When Montgomery took the field for the first inning of his career debut, at Colorado, he was greeted by these encouraging words from his infield partner: “Uh, no big deal or anything, but this is the big leagues. Maybe don’t suck.”
They work in the batting cage together, do defensive drills together, eat pregame and postgame meals together. In the Sox’ weight room, the former high school basketball players vie for buckets against each other on a mini hoop. Montgomery was a top player in high school. Meidroth, half a foot shorter, was half a foot shorter.
“If you don’t make it to 6-4 and you can’t shoot, it’s probably not your sport,” Meidroth said.
But these guys really like each other, in case that might count for something as the Sox endeavor to maybe not suck.
“With me and him, everything is just natural,” Montgomery said. “Everything clicks. That’s the kind of relationship you want. I think it could really work out.”
Jeter and Robinson Cano, anyone? Jeter and Chuck Knoblauch would get it done, too. As would Jeter and a ham sandwich.
“I want to play this game for a long time with him and win a World Series here together at some point,” Meidroth said. “Just continue to grow and stay in this clubhouse right here, keep pushing everybody and see where it goes.”