By MIKE LOPRESTI
Gannett News Service

CHICAGO - First, a brief quiz. The category is fan mayhem. Where was it last September that a father and son left their empty beer cups behind and swayed out of the stands to try to dismember the first base coach of the Kansas City Royals?

Chicago. Home of the White Sox.

And where was it this past April that another reprobate and breathalyzer dropout suddenly rumbled onto the field with intent to sack one of the umpires?

Chicago. Home of the White Sox.

And where have there been a couple of fights in the stands that would make a tavern parking lot proud?

Chicago. Home of the White Sox.

One last question. Where is the All-Star Game Tuesday, when any fool craving attention - and a cameo in handcuffs - will have an audience of millions?

Right. Chicago. Home of the White Sox.

Over the phone, Terry Savarise did not sound worried.

"I hope people realize," he said, "those incidents aren't typical of what happens here.

"They were isolated goofballs, marking something off their to-do list."

Terry Savarise? He'll be at the All-Star Game Tuesday night, with the heat on. Never mind the pitchers. Savarise and the staff he leads better not have any bad innings.

He's vice president of stadium operations for U.S. Cellular Field. That means he's one of the main men on security.

Security these days usually means watching out for bad guys with terrorist bomb handbooks. In Savarise's case, it also means guarding against rash acts of sloppy drunks.

The White Sox know a thing or two about that. Old Comiskey Park was the site of Disco Demolition Night in 1979, the Little Bighorn of fan unruliness, when the second game of a doubleheader had to be forfeited.

Not that every other park doesn't have its screwballs. And most of Chicago's fans behave well enough, especially considering the baseball futility annually foisted upon them. It is a city with two teams, but no world championship since 1917.

And, at least, no sausages have ever been attacked in Chicago.

But the field incursions at the Royals-Sox games were shocking in their constant replays, and were the talk of baseball.

"We've had very few problems. It's not typical of our fans," Savarise said. "Two of the guys involved in incidents we've had were wearing Cubs caps. Not that I'm picking on the Cubs."

Good heavens, no. What White Sox official would dream of doing that?

But when umpire Laz Diaz came under attack in April, on top of Royals' coach Tom Gamboa's assault last fall, it was obvious the White Sox' stadium had a perception problem.

(Besides its gaudy and clumsy corporate name. Calling a ballpark U.S. Cellular Field is like calling a boy Mortimer).

Major league baseball demanded souped-up security measures. Savarise's troops provided them. When the Cubs came calling last month, Sammy Sosa ran to his spot in right field each inning in the company of three guards.

"We've made adjustments, some of them subtle and some not," Savarise said. "We keep some of the changes to ourselves, so people don't sit there and think, 'How am I going to beat the system?'

"We haven't seen any, quote, copycats since April. But I don't want to jinx anything."

So the White Sox aim to be perfect hosts. That means friendly workers, an appealing stadium ... and nobody launching an offensive from the box seats.

"That's our challenge every day," Savarise said, "not just because of what happened in April.

"From my own standpoint, it is frustrating one person can ruin all the hard work everybody does around here."

That's the problem for the Terry Savarises of the world. All it takes is one knucklehead.