By Roger Wallenstein

What a glorious Fourth of July. The rain finally stopped, Chris Sale was on top of his game, emerging Sox legend Jose Abreu slammed yet another homer and icon Paul Konerko drove one into the left-field stands exciting the almost-30,000 fans who jammed The Cell. Along with beer, hot dogs and fireworks, the 7-1 Sox win over Seattle was absolutely delightful. Not even the perpetually-annoying Wave dampened the euphoria of possibly the White Sox best performance of the season.
Of course, the celebration of our country’s birth included both the national anthem before the game and “God Bless America” for the seventh-inning stretch. Red, white and blue bunting decorated the walls while the four mildly confused teenagers sitting behind us – apparently remnants of the World Cup jubilation – chanted, “USA, USA, USA,” most of the game.
Meanwhile, on the field, Cubans, Venezuelans, Dominicans, and one player each from Japan, Colombia and Brazil sprinkled the rosters of the Sox and Mariners. Of the 50 players, 18 were born in a country other than the USA.

Read More

Posted on July 7, 2014

By Roger Wallenstein

There’s the popular baseball story about Rickey Henderson, the game’s all-time best leadoff man, being reunited with John Olerud when Henderson joined the 1999 New York Mets. Henderson, who was all about himself, said some pretty goofy things during his 25-year career but none quite as revealing as when he saw Olerud, a fine first baseman and hitter in his own right, wearing a batting helmet in the field.
Rickey asked Olerud about the helmet, and his teammate disclosed that he needed the protection because of a childhood aneurysm. “I knew a guy when I was with Toronto who did the same thing,” Rickey allegedly said.
“That was me, Rickey,” said Olerud. “That was me.”
The story’s validity has since been challenged, but the veracity is not as important as what it represents. Henderson was famous for a number of skills in his Hall of Fame career – he scored more runs and stole more bases than anyone in history – but no one ever accused him of being “good in the clubhouse.”

Read More

Posted on June 29, 2014

By Roger Wallenstein

My friend Patrick dropped by Friday evening, enticed more by the chops sizzling on the barbecue than the prospect of watching the Sox drop the second of four straight losses to the Twins over the weekend.
Settling in front of the tube, he asked me whether I watch the whole game. “Well, yeah,” I uttered. “Of course I do,” thinking, “Don’t most people?”
My pal is also a Sox fan, but the color of his team is red, not white. So I couldn’t fault him for being more enthused about the meat on his plate rather than the chances of Hector Noesi holding the Twins in check. But still.
Patrick was long gone when the Sox tied the game with two runs in the top of the ninth only to see former South Sider Eduardo Escobar slide across the plate in the bottom of the inning as a potential win evaporated, giving the Twins the 5-4 edge. In the four games, Minnesota outscored our guys by a measly five runs.

Read More

Posted on June 23, 2014

By Roger Wallenstein

You tell a six-year-old, playing his first season of tee ball, to play second base, and the kid most likely will run out to his position straddling the bag in the middle of the infield. The fledgling infielder, he of the concrete mind, figures second base means second base. Same with first and third. For the little newbies, telling them to play a base means just that – go right to the base, put your hands on your knees, and get ready to field a ground ball.
Of course, the coach/parent proceeds to direct the little guys exactly where to position themselves, correcting the silly – but logical to a six-year-old – notion that the basemen play directly on each base. In the best of Little League worlds, this is done with sensitivity and love rather than, “Where the hell do you think you’re playing?!?”
This positioning of players, beginning at a tender age, is a transient concept. In the very early days of the game, fair and foul territory hadn’t been defined, so players would position themselves willy-nilly wherever they thought the ball was likely to be hit. But the genuine inventor of the rules, Alexander Cartwright, introduced in 1845 a field shaped like a diamond – as opposed to a square – along with the idea of foul lines so that just one player, the catcher, resided outside of fair territory.

Read More

Posted on June 16, 2014

By Roger Wallenstein

This was supposed to be fun.
The idea of blowing Saturday’s 5-0 eighth-inning lead with Chris Sale headed for another masterpiece wasn’t part of the new plan. The package wasn’t advertised to include Jose Abreu swinging and missing pitches in the dirt as he struck out four times. After taking two of three at Dodger Stadium earlier in the week, certainly a split of the six games played in Los Angeles and Anaheim wasn’t asking too much.
Apparently it was. Toss in Sunday’s 4-2 limp effort, concluding the three-game sweep at the hands of the Angels, and one can’t blame Sox fans for thinking, “Is that all there is?”
Three games doesn’t make a season, so all the clichés – “You have to have a short memory” and “Play them one at a time” – now are required.

Read More

Posted on June 9, 2014

By Roger Wallenstein

Excuse me if I’m not overjoyed that the White Sox have the third overall choice in Thursday’s major league amateur draft.
For one thing, this is just another reminder that only the Astros and Marlins had a worse record than our athletes last season, and only a masochistic goofball wants to be reminded of the disastrous 2013 season. Since the Sox pick right before the Cubs, we also must face the fact that the guys on the other side of town were a wee bit less laughable as our Sox a year ago.
Yet there are other circumstances associated with the number 3 pick that concern me.

Read More

Posted on June 2, 2014

By Roger Wallenstein

Despite standing ovation after standing ovation when Derek Jeter strode to the plate at the Cell over the weekend, these are not the Yankees we thought they were.
They used to be a team the White Sox saw 22 times a season when Mickey, Yogi and Whitey wreaked havoc on the South Side. Or George Steinbrenner fired yet another manager, one of whom, Billy Martin, was just the other day called a “bigot” by former pitcher Tommy John in an interview by Dan Patrick.
What about the ugly dugout fight between Reggie Jackson and Martin when the manager pulled his star right fielder in the middle of an inning for perceived lack of hustle? Or the way Joe Torre, who led the Yankees into the post-season for all 12 seasons he managed the team, was disrespected in 2007 when he was offered a measly one-year contract?
Now those were the Yankees we thought they were, a truly despicable outfit.

Read More

Posted on May 25, 2014

By Roger Wallenstein

Is there any other profession besides professional sports where trades take place?
Like, what would happen if we could dump Emanuel and get de Blasio? I think we’d be dumb not to make that deal. Or how many surgeons from Rush would it take to pry James Andrews loose from his practice in Birmingham? Suppose we didn’t like the sopes rancheros super chef Rick Bayless concocted at the Frontera Grill. Imagine if we then dispatched him to New Orleans in a straight-up deal for Emeril and his chorizo po’ boy.
Of course, the world doesn’t work that way, but baseball does. Before the days of free agency and guaranteed, no-trade contracts, players were chattel and trades were made with regularity.

Read More

Posted on May 19, 2014

By Roger Wallenstein

Life may simply be a series of choices, but some are easier than others.
When I was a just a kid of six or seven, our family moved to suburban Chicago from Cincinnati. The choice of Sox versus Cubs was an obvious one. The Sox were a good team. The Cubs weren’t, and we were frontrunners.
For all I know, our dad never saw an American League game until he drove us to Comiskey Park for the first time. Since the Reds were his National League team, he never said boo about us becoming Cub fans even though we lived on the North Shore.
In the grander scheme of things, this sort of choice ranks below choosing a career, how best to parent children, or whether to drink light beer. You might want to put being a faithful, loving spouse who makes healthy decisions in your top two or three.
Nevertheless, picking the White Sox more than 60 years ago clearly goes into my “life-changer” column.

Read More

Posted on May 12, 2014

By Roger Wallenstein

The good ones never stop trying to figure out what’s going on when it’s going bad, and when it’s going good, they know how to keep it going. He’s one of, if not the hardest-working hitting coach I’ve had. He gets all the credit.
– Adam Dunn
After the game he’s in the cage working with people. [Guys] like Viciedo and [Gordon Beckham]. Those guys will be saying he’s their guy.”
– Paul Konerko
Yessir, looks like the White Sox have a keeper in new batting coach Todd Steverson. Only problem is that those quotes from Dunn and Konerko were lifted from last season when Jeff Manto was the team’s hitting instructor.

Read More

Posted on May 5, 2014