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HarpChado, HarpChado

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As is so often the case, art precedes life

Five years gone: It only seems as if the offseason has lasted as long as the time that’s passed since this photo was taken (2014).
Corbis via Getty Images

It’s one of the most loved (or hated, feelings vary) numbers in Broadway musical history. And while Jerry Reinsdorf is no Daddy Warbucks, please picture a little girl with way too much red hair, wearing a replica White Sox jersey, and apologize to composer Charles Strouse and lyricist Martin Chamin as you join in on:

The sun will come out
HarpChado
Bet your bottom dollar
That HarpChado
Will bring sun!

Just thinkin’ about
HarpChado
Clears away the losses
And the sorrow
’Til there’s none!

When I’m stuck at a game
That’s lame
And ugly,
I don’t cry in my beer
Not a tear.
I say,
Oh

The sun will come out
HarpChado
So you gotta hang on
’Til HarpChado
Come what may

HarpChado!
HarpChado!
I love ya
HarpChado!
But you’re always a day away!

HarpChado!
HarpChado!
We’re desperate
HarpChado!
But you’re always a day away!


As one of, oh, maybe three, fans in all of White Sox land who think a team with 15 or 20 holes in its roster should have spent the offseason trying to fill a bunch of those slots instead of hanging around forever waiting for a superstar with issues to make the little girl happy, I should apologize to those of you who share her dream for putting this tune in your head.

It’s one that just won’t leave, no matter how hard you try — believe me, millions have tried. Which makes it just like HarpChado.