The Tortoise Is Wearing a Cape Now: What Supergirl and the 1983 White Sox Have in Common

Turns out grit wears a cape—and sometimes cleats.

We like our heroes polished, our victories pristine—but what if the truest kind of winning is a little dusty, a bit scrappy, and totally un-Instagrammable? In this essay, I explore how both Supergirl and the 1983 Chicago White Sox show us that greatness isn’t about perfection—it’s about showing up, swinging hard, and keeping your ethics intact even when your hair isn’t.

There’s a mythology to victory. We like it polished. Triumphant. Ideally with a movie soundtrack and a well-timed hair flip. But reality—especially for the 1983 Chicago White Sox and, yes, even for Supergirl—is rarely that well-choreographed.

The White Sox of ’83 didn’t win games so much as wrestle them into submission. They were dubbed the “Winning Ugly” team, a label slapped on them like an old batting helmet: scuffed, but oddly flattering. They didn’t glide to victory—they lunged at it with grass stains on their jerseys and stubbornness in their bones. Baseball, after all, rewards patience. And chaos. And just enough dirt under the fingernails to unsettle your opponent.

Supergirl, meanwhile, knows a little something about optics. She’s fast, she’s strong, she’s wearing a cape cut within an inch of aerodynamic efficiency. But even she, despite the league of extraordinary expectations, doesn’t always soar. Sometimes, it’s less “up, up, and away,” and more like “awkward sideways lurch while catching a satellite.”

Because here’s the thing: heroism—like baseball—isn’t always cinematic.

Sometimes Supergirl wins by redirecting a meteor with her left elbow while dodging press inquiries with the right. Sometimes she saves the day and gets criticized for messing up traffic. And yet, she does it. No theme music. No ticker tape. Just resolve and a deeply unglamorous kind of fortitude.

Much like the beloved South Side squad.

To win ugly is to win ethically but imperfectly. It’s to use your brain when your brawn’s having an off day. It’s persistence with a side of humility. A slow, steady crawl past the hare who’s too busy livestreaming his journey to the finish line. And if Supergirl and the 1983 White Sox can teach us anything, it’s this: style is optional—grit is not.

So whether you’re in cleats or sneakers, ballcap or cape, remember: the prettiest wins fade with time. The ugly ones—the scrappy, resilient, against-the-odds triumphs—those get remembered.

Some even earn a nickname.

Footnote: (100% AI)