Jeff at Royally Speaking asked for some sage wisdom on his favorite team’s newest treasure from the South Side scrapyard. As much as I hate to ruin a surprise, this one would only ruin itself. Surprise! [Royally Speaking]
When are 96 wins no better than 90, and when are they even worse than 89 (which were technically 88 in the first place)? When you’re the Chicago White Sox, that’s when. Part two in a series.
And a child shall lead them, and that child will be named Freddy Garcia, and perhaps he too can resurrect those glorious first-place days of 2005 or, barring that, the magical third-place summer of 2006. The Bears, on the other hand, probably could have smoked the Mariners. [The Beachwood Reporter]
You know what B.A. stands for. That’s not a question.
We were rooting for you, Brian Anderson. Except when you messed up. Which you did. Often. [Mouthpiece Sports]
The day began like any other and ended like something spectacular. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s good to like sports sometimes.
Jayson Nix needs us as much as we need Jayson Nix.
The farm just got a whole lot speedier. And grindier. Let’s trade it for Ichiro!
Jerry O does not want to be called First Batter. It sounds like a saddle horse.
You need friends in this world, kid. They’re the only ones who’ll tell you what you need to hear. Part five in a series.
In which the fate of a sandwich rests in the glove of Jerry Owens and the Kansas City tourism bureau owes me a referral bonus.
Besides starting pitching, Josh Fields, the gaping hole in center, the top of the order and Alex Rodriguez.
She choo-choo-chooses him. And him. And him. Guest columnist Cara Snyder reflects on the true meaning of the holiday.
Something to ponder down the stretch: the 2008 White Sox are 13-9 in Sunday games, suggesting that a veritable b-team led by Toby Hall and one Brian N. Anderson is capable of a season of .590 baseball. Or not.
