You Spin Me Right Round, Baby, Right Round
If good looks was a minute/ You know that you could've been an hour- Smokey Robinson, 'The Way You Do The Things You Do'
I do the same thing. Except with my remote.
It is appropriate that our Chicago White Sox face ageless knuckleballer Tim Wakefield this evening in Boston. Like Wakefield’s clueless pitches, my hopes for and frustrations with our home nine have darted this way and that over the course of the last 126 games. If you asked at the beginning of the season where I thought we’d be at this point, I’d say .500. And here we are.
So why am I disappointed?
Because we are the most talented team in this division. Because up until this week, the Tigers did everything they could to hand us the lead. Because since June arrived, one week of five wins may have been enough to coast through the rest of the season.
Instead we currently sit 4.5 games back with a golden opportunity to gain a game back as the Red Sox bat in the ninth inning. Tied 2-2. Losing two of three at home to a weak Orioles team engendered very little confidence that we would find success at Fenway. And unfortunately my lack of faith proved accurate. Monday night, Jose and our defense kicked the game away like an empty can. Last night, Ozzie returned Scott Linebrink to the scene of many of his crimes this year. True to his habit, Linebrink let the game get away.
Bye bye season.
Unless. A win tonight would put us 3.5 back. Maybe. Just maybe.
Wakefield’s gives up more extra base hits to righties, and Ozzie’s lineup tonight leans heavily to the right. Thankfully, Rios returns to the line-up and the feel-good story of the season (Pods) sits.
Paulie got the evening off auspiciously with his second triple since 2000, scoring Gordon Bacon. While Paulie ran the bases, I walked to Lance Johnson’s and gave him a hi-five.
Second inning, Floydo gives it back with a bomb by supplement-whore David Ortiz. I used to really like the Red Sox. I don’t anymore. Not ever since they became the American League Cubs. ‘Cept they win. Screw ‘em.
Floydo settles down and starts dealing. The fifth sees Quentin scramble to third after stealing second when Martinez throws the ball into the outfield. Quentin earns a star for punching Youk in the dick. Good on ya, CQ!
Of course, Rios and Ramirez can’t drive him in. No, I don’t sweat Alexei. He’s on my first-place fantasy team.
Ridiculously, Wakefield has thrown 68 of his garbage for strikes. WTF? Why does he need to be Phil Neikro tonight?
Cub killer Alex Gonzalez greets Floydo in the sixth with a homer. D’oh!
PODS!! Picks us up in the eighth. So sorry I asked for you to be benched. So sorry. Tie game. Let’s hurt somebody!
Bacon gets on. Steals second. Sac’d over to third. Come on Jimmy!
Ick. Daniel Bard is a bad man. 99 mph fasties. Bye bye, Jimmy.
And bye bye White Sox. Papi again. Off Pena. Bottom of the 9th.
What we need next year? Some outfield help. Rios ain’t enough. Do NOT want to see Pods starting next year. Dye will be gone. We’ll get Thome back at a discount.
Bring in another DH/bench guy. Adios Dotel. Bring in a bullpen man to help out Thornton. Make Fat Bobby expendable, see what you can get.
And with the rest of baseball, search for a fifth starter.
Do all that, and we’ll see you next October Dodgers. 
O'Hare Arpt., IL
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