You’ve probably seen the headline or the TikTok clip by now. It’s one of those stories that makes you stop mid-scroll because it sounds so fundamentally absurd that it just might be true. The claim? A fictional Pope Leo XIV has somehow become the savior—or perhaps the owner—of the Chicago White Sox.
It sounds like a Fever dream. Honestly, in the world of modern baseball, where the White Sox just came off a historically disastrous 2024 season, fans are looking for anything to believe in. But here is the thing: Pope Leo XIV does not exist. There has never been a Pope Leo XIV. The last Leo was Leo XIII, who died in 1903.
So, why are we even talking about this? Because the intersection of AI-generated misinformation, South Side desperation, and internet "shitposting" has created a narrative that simply won't die. People are actually Googling whether the Vatican is buying a baseball team. They aren't. But the story of how this myth took over sports Twitter tells us a lot about the current state of the Chicago White Sox and the weird ways we process sports misery in 2026.
The Origin of the Pope Leo XIV Chicago White Sox Rumor
We have to look at the vacuum of information to understand how a fake Pope gets linked to a Major League Baseball team. Jerry Reinsdorf, the longtime owner of the Sox, has been the target of intense fan vitriol for years. When a fan base is this desperate for a change in leadership, their imagination goes to wild places.
The "Pope Leo XIV" character likely originated in a satirical "prophecy" or a deep-fried meme on a sports forum. Someone, somewhere, joked that only divine intervention could save the Sox. Then, an AI-generated image of a fictional Pope wearing a black-and-white pinstriped miter probably made its way to Facebook.
It’s a classic case of a "hallucination" gone viral. In the age of generative AI, if you ask a poorly tuned bot to "write a story about a new Pope saving a baseball team," it might spit out a name like Leo XIV. Since "Leo" is a common papal name, it sounds just plausible enough to someone who hasn't checked a history book lately.
The White Sox are currently in a state of flux. With rumors of a potential stadium move to "The 78" in South Loop and constant chatter about Reinsdorf eventually selling the team, the environment is perfect for high-octane nonsense. When there’s no real news, the internet manufactures it.
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Why the White Sox Fanbase Was "Primed" for a Miracle
Let's be real. If you followed the 2024 season, you know the White Sox set the record for the most losses in a single season in modern MLB history. They surpassed the 1962 New York Mets. It wasn't just losing; it was the way they lost. It was soul-crushing.
When a team is that bad, the discourse turns surreal. You start seeing fans wearing paper bags over their heads and calling for exorcisms. The Pope Leo XIV Chicago White Sox meme is basically a digital version of that exorcism. It’s a way for fans to mock the absurdity of their own situation.
- The Reinsdorf Factor: Fans want a sale. They want it yesterday.
- The Stadium Saga: The team is angling for public money for a new park, which always creates friction and weird rumors.
- The Identity Crisis: Are they a rebuilding team or just a broken one?
The idea of a religious figure taking over the team is a metaphor for the "Hail Mary" pass the franchise needs. But let's clarify: The Catholic Church is not entering the sports franchise business. The Vatican's portfolio is vast, involving real estate and priceless art, but they aren't looking to fix a struggling bullpen in the American League Central.
Real Ownership Rumors vs. Papal Fiction
If we move away from the fictional Pope Leo XIV, who might actually buy the team? That's the question that actually matters for the future of baseball in Chicago. While Reinsdorf has publicly stated he isn't selling, the pressure is mounting.
There have been rumblings about Dave Stewart, the former pitcher and executive, leading a group to bring more diversity to MLB ownership. There’s also the perennial rumor of a deep-pocketed Chicago billionaire like Justin Ishbia (brother of Suns owner Mat Ishbia) taking an interest. These are the names that actually appear in The Athletic or ESPN reports.
Pope Leo XIV? He only appears in the dark corners of Reddit.
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The danger of these viral myths is that they obscure the real issues. When we talk about fake Popes, we aren't talking about the lack of investment in international scouting or the failure of the team's analytics department. The myth is a distraction from the structural rot that led to 121 losses.
How Misinformation Spreads in Sports
It usually follows a specific pattern. First, a parody account posts a "Breaking News" tweet. Because the account has a blue checkmark (which anyone can buy now), people take it at face value. Then, an aggregator site—those websites that just rewrite other people's tweets for clicks—picks it up with a headline like "Is Pope Leo XIV Buying the White Sox?"
By the time a reputable journalist tries to debunk it, the "Pope Leo XIV Chicago White Sox" search term is already trending. It’s a feedback loop of stupidity.
The Cultural Impact of the "Sox Pope"
Even though it's fake, the meme has taken on a life of its own. You'll see fans at Guaranteed Rate Field (or whatever they end up calling it next year) wearing cardinal robes or carrying signs referencing the "Holy Father of the South Side."
In a weird way, it has become a rallying cry. It’s gallows humor. If you can’t win games, you might as well have the funniest memes in the league. This is a tradition in Chicago sports—think of the "Curse of the Billy Goat" for the Cubs. Sports fans in this city love a good supernatural narrative to explain away bad management.
However, unlike the Billy Goat, which was based on a real guy (William Sianis) and a real goat, Leo XIV is a total ghost. He is a product of the 2020s—a digital phantom born from an algorithm and fed by a frustrated fanbase.
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Navigating White Sox News in 2026
If you're looking for actual updates on the team, you need to filter out the noise. The 2026 season is a pivotal one. The team is trying to prove that the "historical" losing of the mid-2020s was a fluke and not a permanent state of being.
- Check the Source: If the news isn't on MLB.com, the Chicago Tribune, or Sun-Times, it’s probably fake.
- Verify the Person: Is the "Pope" in question a real human? (Hint: No).
- Follow the Money: Ownership changes involve SEC filings and massive legal hurdles. They don't happen via Papal decree.
The Chicago White Sox are a storied franchise with a World Series title in this century (2005, though ESPN often forgets it). They deserve better than being a punchline for AI-generated hoaxes. But until the on-field product improves, the fans will continue to look toward the heavens—or at least toward their phone screens—for any sign of hope, no matter how ridiculous it sounds.
Actionable Steps for the Disenfranchised Sox Fan
Stop checking the "Trending" tab for ownership news; it’s mostly bots. Instead, keep a close eye on the Illinois Sports Facilities Authority (ISFA) meetings. That is where the real future of the White Sox is being decided. The stadium negotiations will dictate whether Reinsdorf stays, sells, or moves the team to Nashville.
Focus on the development of the young prospects in Birmingham and Charlotte. That’s the only "divine intervention" that’s actually going to result in wins. If you want to lean into the meme for a laugh, go for it—just don't expect a guy in a white robe to be throwing out the first pitch on Opening Day.
The White Sox will eventually turn it around. Baseball is cyclical. But the "Pope Leo XIV" era is nothing more than a weird footnote in the history of internet culture, a reminder that when things get bad enough, people will believe in just about anything. Keep your expectations grounded in reality, even when the reality on the South Side is hard to watch.