By Andrew Reilly
It’s sad, in a way, that the White Sox won the series against the Brewers. Wholly awesome, but still sad in that wins over the Brewers, in the scheme of things, mean absolutely nothing.
Yes, the Sox move to within a supposedly decent 4.5 games of the Tigers, and yes, Kansas City and Cleveland are still pretty lousy teams, but those two things were both true this time last week, when the Sox were 4.5 games out and the Royals and Indians had long since established their respective stinkfests.
Still, there will come a lot of misguided optimism about this. Folks will say things to the effect of “If the Sox can beat a first-place team, they can beat anyone.” And this would normally be true except the Sox have proven, time and again, that they actually can’t beat anyone – especially not first-place teams, i.e., the Tigers who whooped on the Sox before the Good Guys went off to school the soon-to-be-dismissed class of the NL Central.
And this, as with last year and the ten years before it, reveals the true flaw in interleague play: in a perfect world, squaring off in June with a division leader should be a chance for someone to prove their mettle, not an excuse for trading blowouts and watching said division leader trot out a starting pitcher with a 7.52 ERA. Beating a first-place team should give reason for optimism about our team, not skepticism about theirs; we should know more about the Sox, not less. Are they going to win anything? Probably not, unless there’s a Sox-Brewers World Series. Which there won’t be. But there could be, because the Brewers are in first place! And the Sox beat them!
Instead the whole thing just serves to remind us that Milwaukee is still nothing more than a great road trip to a wonderful city to see a terrible baseball team.
Or, in this case, two terrible baseball teams.
Week in Review: With four wins and four losses to show for it, this week was actually the Good Guys’ best seven-day run since going 5-1 May 25 through 31. Things might not look that great now, but this pattern suggests July 2011 is going to be one for the ages.
Week in Preview: The Sox, lacking obstructed sightlines and pungent urine stench in their own park, head to historic (ha!) Wrigley for the first half of the Crosstown Classic. This year, the civil war begins on a Tuesday rather than a Sunday, a move whose motives some will surely question, and those folks can probably rest assured the decision was based out of pure evil. Considering how Cubs-Sox could sell out a midnight start in December, the league most likely figured it would be wiser to move a lesser series to a weekend and let the calendar do the selling, and in the process let the Sox help the Small Bears pack ’em in for an otherwise non-spectacular mid-week slate. That said, here’s looking forward to Guillen and Co. scorching the ivy on their march through the North Side.
The Q Factor: In a bunker deep beneath the Sierra Blanca, Carlos Quentin and his team of research assistants remain hard at work on a highly experimental hitting method called “Bat Fusion” in which a conventional Louisville Slugger, swung at a certain angle and speed combination known as the “Flux Vector Cut,” can hit a baseball upwards of 700 feet. While officially prohibited by unspecified government agencies from actively commenting on the status of this project, Quentin indirectly assures us this method will be combat-ready sometime around the All-Star break.
That’s Ozzie!: “We’re supposed to be in last place, and we’re close to that. Hopefully, we don’t make people happy about it.”
The Guillen Meter: His hatred of Wrigley Field widely advertised, his Cy Young-winning blogger teammate on the defensive and his club forced to play without its much-needed designated hitter, the Guillen Meter reads 9 for “claustrophobic paranoid.”
Underclassmen Update: Thanks to Milwaukee pitching, Gordon “Best Shortstop Ever” Beckham has more runs batted in than I do. Finally.
Alumni News You Can Use: Major League Baseball handed former White Sox utility man and bench speedster Pablo Ozuna a 50-game suspension for violating league rules around the use of performance-enhancing drugs; one can only wonder how bad Ozuna would have been without the juice. Meanwhile in San Francisco, Aaron Rowand leads off while Juan Uribe bats third, and the whole world has seemingly fallen on its head.
Hawkeroo’s Can-O-Corn Watch: Every year, without fail, Hawk tells one story in particular on-air during the Sox’ visit to Wrigley Field, in which some young player signs with the Cubs hoping to win a World Series, falls a little too deeply in love with the bright lights and taverns of Rush Street, struggles on the field, then hears from an elder statesman of baseball how the Cubs will never win a World Series until they stack their team with married men who never go out. He updates the names to reflect recent Cub roster moves, which seems odd by itself, but even more perplexing considering Rush Street, by most estimates, hasn’t been much fun for anyone outside of Schaumburg in a good 30 years.
Endorsement No-Brainer: Paul Konerko’s once-again functional digit for Pearl Jam’s 2002 Riot Act album. Thumbing his way back to run-producing heaven.
Cubs Snub: Yesterday’s special at the Comet Cafe in Milwaukee was the Milton Bradley Fail. Two . . . no three . . . no two pancakes with three . . . no, two . . . no, three eggs and a side of hash browns. The secret ingredient? Spitefulness mixed with an expectedly lousy Cubs outfielder. Oh how I love that city.
The White Sox Report: Read ’em all.
The Cub Factor: Know your enemy.
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Andrew Reilly is the managing editor of The 35th Street Review and a contributor to many fine publications.
Posted on June 14, 2009