Page 2
We all love talking baseball this time of year. Even better when you're talkin' with your friends. Page 2's Eric Neel previews the season with his buddy, Page 3 contributor Andy Behrens.
Andy Behrens: OK, so this whole let's-write-a-baseball-preview thing is just a pretext for you to beat my White Sox like a piņata at a birthday party, isn't it?
If so, I'm cool with that. But first, a little history. In October 1993, I sat in the back row of the Himalayan upper deck at Comiskey Park – in a row of seats that no longer exists at nicely renovated U.S. Cellular Field – watching Toronto's Dave Stewart beat Chicago 3-1 in the ALCS. A tragically bad game. The Sox blew a bases-loaded, no-out opportunity in the sixth. An insufferable Canadian sat in front of me. Whenever Paul Molitor batted, he yelled the same thing:
"G'on Molly! Hit it oot of the hoose!"
It sucked, he sucked, but still, I left the park that day feeling vaguely hopeful. The Sox were clearly on the verge of a spectacular run of championships. Ownership was committed. The team seemed so talented.
Of course, in the intervening years, the Indians and Twins have won nine of 10 AL Central titles while the White Sox have crushed any sense of hope with a series of inane trades and tactical gaffes.
Within a decade, I was transformed from an excited Sox season ticket-holder – who as a child had twice dressed as Chet Lemon for Halloween – into an ambivalent observer. Sure, I'll still listen to games for the dulcet nonsense of Hawk Harrelson. But I've distanced myself. I can't buy what the Sox are sellin' anymore.
And yet ...
Well, sometimes you really do have to marvel at the carnage. Despite playing their home games in a ballpark that greatly favors power hitters, the White Sox have retooled the lineup in an effort to play small ball. Very small ball. Almost no ball at all, really.
If general manager Kenny Williams had just been able to resist his pathological urge to make trades during the past eight months, the Sox would have an Opening Day outfield of Carlos Lee, Aaron Rowand and Jeremy Reed. That's pretty good, right? Isn't it several orders of magnitude better than Scott Podsednik, Rowand and Jermaine Dye? I feel the Sox have achieved a sort of collective, institutional insanity. Is this safe to say?
And here's a bonus question: Which Chicago baseball team had the more disastrous offseason? It seems as though both the Cubs and Sox have made conscious decisions to score fewer runs. My wife will be pleased. The games should be a little shorter, what with the lack of baserunners.
*****
Eric Neel: Good to see how "distanced" you are, Andy.
And the Chet Lemon thing is very nice. I feel we've entered some new level of friendship with your deciding to share that. Is this the moment when I tell you about an Elton John costume my mother made for me in 1975? No, it is not. But it is the moment I tell you I completely understand the way you were reeled in by the promise of the early '90s Sox. This is a thing with you, the brink-of-greatness thing – I know of your undying affection for Artis Gilmore and Dave Kingman, for example – but you're not the only one; it's a thing with all of us, I think. We hold in our hearts the brilliance of those who might otherwise be forgotten. I'm with you. Jimmy Wynn is my co-pilot.
