I've never had a floor fall out from beneath me. I imagine it would be terrifying. Feeling gravity's pull so suddenly. Not knowing how far it is until bedrock. Wondering how much it will hurt.
The 2013 Chicago White Sox are feeling gravity's pull. I know because I've lived it before. As a child of the 80s I was just young enough to miss '83. My earliest memories are of Harold Baines with bad knees, Carlton Fisk without much tread left on the tires and a different no-name Opening Day starting pitcher every year (Ricky Horton, Jerry Reuss, Eric King, do you want me to continue?). My father and siblings swore that the White Sox were perfectly capable of being competitive and had been in the past. I wasn't so sure.
At one point the White Sox almost moved to Tampa Bay to play inside a glorified water reservoir. My old man was really pissed about that. Things were really bad growing up a White Sox fan.
A new park was built and could have been called "Candlestick Park in Blue". And then the prospects accumulated. Some through good drafts -- Jack McDowell, Frank Thomas, Robin Ventura, Alex Fernanadez. Some through pain -- it was a very bad day in July 1989 when the beloved Baines and Fred Manrique were traded for Wilson Alvarez, Scott Fletcher and a very skinny Sammy Sosa. The player quality increased and soon we were battling the Blue Jays for the American League Pennant.
We lost in '93. But '94 was our year. We were unstoppable with our starting staff (McDowell, Fernandez, Alvarez and Jason Bere). Thomas was the MVP! That was the year. The 1994 World Champion Chicago...no! Things were really bad being a 14 year old White Sox fan.
1995 and falsely elevated hopes. McDowell got pissed and left. Thomas got moody and fat. A few years of dicking around with Albert Belle, Chris Sabo, Mike Devereaux and a bunch of other spare parts never made things right.
It was time to blow it all up again. The White Sox became known for the white flag and six easy pieces. Big pieces like Ventura were permitted to walk. Opening Day 1999 saw the accumulation of new pieces: Foulke, Howry, Konerko, Ordonez, eventually Lee. Who the hell were these guys?
And in time, with some refining (56, Crede, Jenks, Rowand) the Kids Can Play and the like, one crazy Venezuelan with a vision, many of those '99ers didn't make it to the top of the mountain but via refinements and franchise-building, 2005 happened and I can die a happy man. I was as happy for my father and my siblings as I was for myself.
Since that glorious World Series, the White Sox have dawdled along with various degrees of competitiveness. A few bad years, but mostly it's made for entertaining Julys and Augusts. Memories of 2005 have kept us warm each October.
And now this. It's over (again). Paulie's the last touchstone of a bygone era. And everything around him is overpaid and under-performing. Gordon Beckham has not blossomed. Tyler Flowers hasn't done shit. Dayan Viciedo is Cuban Rob Deer. Adam Dunn needs to be donating some serious money to charity for how poorly he has hit. There's literally nothing in our farm system. No relief in sight.
We've been here before. We can do this. Rick Hahn, it's time to trade and trade and trade! Be desperate, not scrupulous. Be active, not passive. Spare Chris Sale and maybe Addison Reed, but everything else must go. Obtain whatever assets you can. Start fresh.
We are going to be bad for a while. But we're already bad. And we're not getting better with Milennial Chris Sabo (Jeff Keppinger) and Mike Devereaux (Alejandro De Aza). Let go. Get bad so that you can get good. I'll be there every step of the way, listening to Ed and DJ on my Milwaukee kitchen radio. Having a few drinks along the way. It'll be easier this time than the last two times, because I've got my World Series DVD for the really bad moments.
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The 2013 Chicago White Sox are feeling gravity's pull. I know because I've lived it before. As a child of the 80s I was just young enough to miss '83. My earliest memories are of Harold Baines with bad knees, Carlton Fisk without much tread left on the tires and a different no-name Opening Day starting pitcher every year (Ricky Horton, Jerry Reuss, Eric King, do you want me to continue?). My father and siblings swore that the White Sox were perfectly capable of being competitive and had been in the past. I wasn't so sure.
At one point the White Sox almost moved to Tampa Bay to play inside a glorified water reservoir. My old man was really pissed about that. Things were really bad growing up a White Sox fan.
A new park was built and could have been called "Candlestick Park in Blue". And then the prospects accumulated. Some through good drafts -- Jack McDowell, Frank Thomas, Robin Ventura, Alex Fernanadez. Some through pain -- it was a very bad day in July 1989 when the beloved Baines and Fred Manrique were traded for Wilson Alvarez, Scott Fletcher and a very skinny Sammy Sosa. The player quality increased and soon we were battling the Blue Jays for the American League Pennant.
We lost in '93. But '94 was our year. We were unstoppable with our starting staff (McDowell, Fernandez, Alvarez and Jason Bere). Thomas was the MVP! That was the year. The 1994 World Champion Chicago...no! Things were really bad being a 14 year old White Sox fan.
1995 and falsely elevated hopes. McDowell got pissed and left. Thomas got moody and fat. A few years of dicking around with Albert Belle, Chris Sabo, Mike Devereaux and a bunch of other spare parts never made things right.
It was time to blow it all up again. The White Sox became known for the white flag and six easy pieces. Big pieces like Ventura were permitted to walk. Opening Day 1999 saw the accumulation of new pieces: Foulke, Howry, Konerko, Ordonez, eventually Lee. Who the hell were these guys?
And in time, with some refining (56, Crede, Jenks, Rowand) the Kids Can Play and the like, one crazy Venezuelan with a vision, many of those '99ers didn't make it to the top of the mountain but via refinements and franchise-building, 2005 happened and I can die a happy man. I was as happy for my father and my siblings as I was for myself.
Since that glorious World Series, the White Sox have dawdled along with various degrees of competitiveness. A few bad years, but mostly it's made for entertaining Julys and Augusts. Memories of 2005 have kept us warm each October.
And now this. It's over (again). Paulie's the last touchstone of a bygone era. And everything around him is overpaid and under-performing. Gordon Beckham has not blossomed. Tyler Flowers hasn't done shit. Dayan Viciedo is Cuban Rob Deer. Adam Dunn needs to be donating some serious money to charity for how poorly he has hit. There's literally nothing in our farm system. No relief in sight.
We've been here before. We can do this. Rick Hahn, it's time to trade and trade and trade! Be desperate, not scrupulous. Be active, not passive. Spare Chris Sale and maybe Addison Reed, but everything else must go. Obtain whatever assets you can. Start fresh.
We are going to be bad for a while. But we're already bad. And we're not getting better with Milennial Chris Sabo (Jeff Keppinger) and Mike Devereaux (Alejandro De Aza). Let go. Get bad so that you can get good. I'll be there every step of the way, listening to Ed and DJ on my Milwaukee kitchen radio. Having a few drinks along the way. It'll be easier this time than the last two times, because I've got my World Series DVD for the really bad moments.
