Chicago White Sox Codexery

Konerko 2005 ALCS Game 7 Walk-Off HR vs Red Sox

One swing in the 10th at Fenway and the Sox were going to the World Series.

In the bottom of the 10th inning of the 2005 ALCS Game 7 at Fenway Park, Paul Konerko launched a walk-off home run that sent the Chicago White Sox to the World Series for the first time since 1983. It is, without exaggeration, the single most electric moment in modern White Sox lore — the image of a 300-pound first baseman clearing the Green Monster while a sea of Red Sox fans stood in stunned silence is burned into the collective memory of every Sox fan alive that night.

Konerko, a career White Sox first baseman and designated hitter, had spent years being the reliable, unglamorous anchor of the lineup. This one swing erased every doubt and handed the 99-win 2005 team a ticket to the Fall Classic. The White Sox ultimately fell to the Houston Astros in the World Series, but that 10th-inning rocket remains the franchise's defining postseason image and the moment Konerko became a legend in his own right.

Player
Paul Konerko
Position
First Base / DH
Game
2005 ALCS, Game 7
Location
Fenway Park, Boston, MA
Inning
Bottom of the 10th (extra innings)
Score entering extras
2-2
Result
Walk-off home run; White Sox win ALCS

Lore & Background

The 2005 White Sox were a team built on grinding, small-ball baseball — Ozzie Guillen's aggressive baserunning, the pitching staff of Mark Buehrle, Jason Marquis, and the bullpen, and a lineup that produced more walks than home runs. Konerko fit that mold perfectly: a switch-hitter who could hit .300, drive in runs, and play solid first base, but not the guy you'd picture launching a 400-foot bomb in a postseason clincher. That made the 10th-inning shot all the more surreal. Here was the steady, no-frills guy doing the one thing no one expected.

The context of the series matters. The Red Sox had just survived their 2004 curse and were coming off a dominant regular season. Boston's Fenway Park, with its short left-field porch and the Green Monster, is a hitter's heaven, and the White Sox had been strangled by Boston's pitching all week. By the time the score sat at 2-2 heading into extra innings, the Sox bench was running out of options. Konerko, who had been a DH/first-base combo all season, stepped in with the series on the line and the entire South Side watching on a television set in a living room, a bar, a kitchen.

In the years since, the moment has taken on a mythic quality in Chicago baseball culture. It's the clip that plays at every White Sox home opener, the story told at every Sox-themed restaurant, the reference point for every subsequent postseason disappointment. Fans who were 12 in 2005 are now in their mid-20s and still tell the story with the same breathless, almost disbelieving energy. Konerko himself has spoken about how the swing felt effortless, as if the ball simply left the bat and he was watching it go. For the White Sox, it remains proof that their best years weren't just about 99 wins — they were about one man, one pitch, and one night in Boston.

In Their Own Story

The Fenway Park night air was cool and thick with smoke from the hot dogs and the tension. Ten innings of nothing. Two runs apiece. The Sox bench huddled in the dugout, Guillen's face a mask of controlled fury. Konerko rolled his shoulders, spat, and walked to the plate. The crowd noise was a physical wall. He set his feet, the pitcher wound up, and Konerko's bat connected with a sound like a car door slamming. The ball rose, impossibly high, impossibly far, and the Fenway crowd went from a roar to a dead, ringing silence. It cleared the Monster. It kept going. Konerko jogged the bases, the Sox dugout erupted, and somewhere in a South Side apartment a kid in a pinstripe jersey was screaming so loud his mother grabbed his shoulders. The White Sox were going to the World Series. Nobody in Boston could believe it. Everybody in Chicago already knew.

Reader's Guide

Okay so picture this. It's Game 7, Fenway, bottom of the 10th. The score is 2-2 and you've been in extra innings. The Sox have been strangled all series by Boston's pitching and you're watching on a TV in your kitchen with your dad and your uncle and nobody's talking because nobody wants to break the silence.

Konerko steps in. He's not the star. He's the reliable guy, the .300 first baseman who you trust to get on base and move the runner over. And here he is with the series on the line in a tie game in the 10th at Fenway. The pitcher comes set. Konerko loads up, and the next thing you know the bat is through the zone and the sound is just — different. Not a crack. A THUD. Like someone hit a car with a sledgehammer.

The ball goes UP. And it doesn't come down where you'd expect. It's over the Monster. It's over the people in the stands. The Fenway crowd goes quiet. Not quiet like a library. Quiet like a held breath. And then Konerko is jogging the bases and the Sox dugout is a pile of bodies and your uncle is on his feet and your dad is saying "oh my God, oh my God" over and over like a prayer.

You replay it. You replay it again. You don't sleep that night. And ten years later, twenty years later, some kid at a bar asks you about the 2005 Sox and you tell them about the 10th inning at Fenway and you can still hear the sound of that bat.

Did You Know?

More in Iconic Games & Moments

Elsewhere in the Chicago White Sox universe

Open in the interactive codex →