Sox Off to 1-2 Start: “Yeah, that’s about right…”

With the opening series against Cleveland in the books, it’s comforting to see the Sox look poised to repeat last year’s abyssmal 72 win campaign, and perhaps even trump it by a few games.  As I gargle with lighter fluid and light a match anticipating another annual installment of smashed TV remotes and broken dreams compliments of the Pale Hose, eternal hope contunues to spring in the face of undisputed logic. 

I’m not going to lie fellas, 2007 was BY FAR the most drawn out, tedious, frustrating, annoying, and horrendous 162 games of baseball ever.  I would rather briskly rub a cheese-grater against my balls than have to relive any single moment from last season.  The countless hours I spent defending the ’05 team as “not a fluke” went up in smoke faster than Richard Pryor’s body after freebasing crack without reading an instructional manual first.  Let’s just move on, or I may break another remote just thinking about those hellish 365 days. 

The opening day loss to the Tribe on Monday was vintage ’07.  It was quite obvious the offense planned on lighting it up, so naturally Buehrle gives up 7 in the 2nd to basically tell them, “Score all you want boys, it doesn’t fucking matter,”  squashing all hope early on.  I don’t care if you have Mantle, Ruth, and Aaron batting 3-4-5, that shit makes you concede early as a player.  Mark might as well have told Thome, “And for my next trick, I will fuck your wife and post it on the internet.” 

These Sox have had about as much fight in them as Apollo Creed did against Ivan Drago.  Long gone are the ’05 boys who played with such passion and reckless abandon.  Shit, even Evel Knievel himself would have toasted a warm PBR can to salute that rag-tag group of asskickers.  The fire has definitely been pissed on, and it is just kind of burning out now.  It’s almost comical to me that the same guys capable of performing magnificent feats, under the highest of pressure, on the biggest of stages, can’t even defend themselves against the AAA Royals anymore.  PS My hatred for KC will take a day off to commemorate their sweep of Detroit……..

I’m not here today to piss the drop that puts out the smoldering mess known as the Sox, I’m here to start an inferno if anything.  This team will not win the pennant in ’08, but there is no legitimate reason they can’t have a winning season and rattle some fucking cages along the way.  Ozzie should give Lou Brown’s epic speech from “Major League,” with Coach Harris from “Revenge of the Nerds” monologue mixed in for inspiration.  It would sound something like this……

Ozzie: “Every newspaper has picked us to finish dead last.  They have us behind the Royals for fuck’s sake.  I know, I thought it was a typo too.  The Kansas Shitty Toilets!!!  We could have told the media to fuck off, and gave everyone a giant shitburger to eat, but no, you pussies limp out and drop 2 of 3 to open the season.  You do understand said shitburgers cannot be handed out unless you actually fucking win right?”

*Ozzie then goes on a 3 minute tirade that isn’t quite English, but it isn’t quite Spanish either.  The only decipherable pieces are “Konerko to Pittsburgh for bag of ‘Funyuns and 20 oz. Jolt Cola,”  “MacDougal still fucking here? Cock, shit, puke….,” and “Octavio Norweigan for “horrible fucking acquisition”,”  He catches himself trailing off, takes a deep breath, and continues.

Ozzie: “Danks, you can fly upstairs with us on the way back, Buehrle will take your wooden crate labeled “Shitlips” in the cargohold.”

Buehrle: “But sir…….I threw a no-hitter last year, and was a backbone for one of the clutchest rotations in post-season history….”

Ozzie: “Yes you were Mark, and the Padres will really appreciate a man of your credentials when I greenlight trading you to them for a case of Old Spice Hair and Body Wash.”

*Ozzie, quite upset he was interrupted, takes on a more stoic demeanor.

 Ozzie: “You know guys, when you were a baby in your crib, your father had but one hope, that someday his son would become a man.  Look at you now.  You got your asses whhhhhhipped, by a bunch of goddamn Indians.  INDIANS!!!  Well, if I were you, I’d do something about it…..(long pause)…….  I would get up and REDEEM myself in the eyes of White Sox Nation, in the eyes of Chicago, and, most importantly, in the eyes of Harold muthafuckin’ Baines!!!!!”  

*Locker room stares in horrified silence that Oz brought Baines into the conversation, and they are now fearing the worst.  Harold quietly looks up from his newspaper, and all the veterans take a collective shit in their pants…….

Baines: “His words precisely reflect my feelings gentlemen.  You have been appointed to perform this daunting task, do not flee now, for you have my eternal blessing.”  Harold then levitates out of the locker room in search of a hotdog. 

Swisher, who has never seen this before, screams, “AWESOME! Totally fucking awesome dude!”

*With the tension finally released, AJ towel snaps Dye.  Thome, sitting on his jersey, aptly rips one and gives Konerko a “Dutch Oven,” while Jenks goes back to showing his stamp collection to Crede.  Various other players engage in flights of fancy and rowdy games of grabass.  Yes my friends, life sure is sweet in the minors……..   THE END

 Fuck Meatloaf…..In my life, 1 out of 3 ain’t bad.  Here’s to a great season.  GO SOX!!!

DISCLAIMER: Mark Buerhle is by far my favorite Sock this decade, and if he doesn’t end his career in Chicago, that will be a sad day.   

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