By Roger Wallenstein

“The hardest single thing to do in sport is to hit a baseball,” Ted Williams once famously wrote in Sports Illustrated, which, coming from someone who was exceptionally proficient at the act, either was the truth or simply a proclamation that fed his ego. Probably both.
While not all of us agree with Teddy Ballgame, we can concur that hitting a sphere moving 90 miles an hour – often dipping, spinning, or curving- with a round club while standing 60-feet, 6-inches away is a specialized skill mastered by a minuscule percentage of our citizenry.
So doesn’t it make sense that a stationary round stick in the hands of a batter who simply is trying to make contact would have a much greater likelihood of success with that elusive orb than lumber in motion?
Yes, folks, we’re talking bunting here, something the White Sox, along with many other clubs, disdain and ignore. This from a team that swings at most anything – the Sox have drawn just 31 walks in this young season, the fewest in the American League – and frequently comes up empty, as evidenced by its 7.5 strikeouts a game.

Read More

Posted on April 21, 2013

By Roger Wallenstein

As kids, we watched a lot of Westerns on television. Not infrequently our father would pass through the room, gaze at the TV where the cowboys and Indians were going at it, and say, “Those Indians are so mad, they’re mad from another movie.”
Apparently former Sox outfielder Carlos Quentin is mad from another league.
The Indians had every reason to be angry, both in those outlandish films and obviously in real life. I’m not so sure about Quentin.

Read More

Posted on April 15, 2013

By Roger Wallenstein

I attended a recent luncheon where someone asked Al Rosen, the former third baseman for the Indians in the 1950s – he was MVP in ’53 – about the differences between the game today and his era.
“For one thing,” he began, “if a pitcher threw you a changeup, you knew the next pitch was going to be a fastball. Today they throw two or three off-speed pitches in a row.”
That certainly was Chris Sale’s pattern in his stellar performance on Opening Day a week ago. Perhaps “pattern” is the wrong description because the Royals’ hitters had little idea what pitch Sale was going to throw throughout the frigid – we sat in the shade of the upper deck – afternoon.

Read More

Posted on April 8, 2013

By Roger Wallenstein

The last few crystals from that pile of snow in my backyard were making a valiant attempt over the weekend to hold on until Chris Sale’s first scheduled pitch on Opening Day this afternoon on the South Side.
On Friday, winter’s final vestige appeared to be a cinch to survive the beginning of the baseball season. The seasons’ transition grabbed my attention as spring made an appearance the past couple of days. By Sunday, however, the crystals were gone, and our prospects for a comfortable opener appeared possible.
Still, the forecast predicts “unseasonably cold” temperatures today. Let’s face it, our city is just plain cold at the beginning of April; the word “unseasonably” is neither necessary nor accurate.

Read More

Posted on April 1, 2013

By Roger Wallenstein

After a long and boring winter for the White Sox, things got a bit more exciting last week.
Until now the biggest news was the signing of third baseman Jeff Keppinger, whose talents include not striking out very often. Although he hit .325 last season for Tampa Bay, his sixth team in seven major league seasons, 100 of his 125 hits were singles, and he drove in just 40 runs.
Shades of Jim Morrison, who manned the position for the Sox in the early ’80s. We all remember him.
But I’m willing to be hopeful on account of anyone who might be able to offset the strikeouts of the Sox’s big signing two years ago, that being Adam Dunn. When Dunn tried to bunt down the third base line in an exhibition game against the Angels recently, I figured this was newsworthy. If he could convince the opposition that he’s capable to of going to the left side – thus negating the shift that everyone uses against him – there’s no telling how high his average might rise. Two-fifty wouldn’t be out of the question.
Yet neither of these developments quite matched up to Florida Gulf Coast University being the first 15th seed in NCAA history to advance to the round of 16. What’s that got to do with the White Sox? We’ll get to that in a moment.

Read More

Posted on March 25, 2013

By Roger Wallenstein

Last weekend was my 50th high school reunion. If little else, it served as a plausible excuse to escape the sinking of the White Sox, 2012.
As with most of these celebrations, there is the common drill: gas cost 28 cents a gallon when we graduated; Kennedy faced the Cuban missile crisis; Marilyn Monroe was found dead; and James Meredith needed federal troops to protect him as he reported to English 101 at the University of Mississippi.
The White Sox opened the season six months ago, and the analogy goes like this: Newt Gingrich and Rick Santorum still had White House aspirations, not too many folks had ever heard of Gabby Douglas, nor had Michael Phelps established himself as the most successful Olympian ever. Gas wasn’t cheap, but who could have anticipated a Chicago summer of five days breaking 100 degrees and another six weeks over 90.
Meanwhile, predictions dictated that the White Sox would lose 95 games.

Read More

Posted on October 1, 2012

By Roger Wallenstein

Although it was hidden in the lower right hand corner of the front page, the icon with the top hat and cane and the number 14 nailed me right in the forehead last Tuesday morning. How could the Sun-Times do this?!?
Far more lethal than the dreaded lead-off walk, the Magic Number should be strictly reserved for teams like the Reds or Giants, the two newly-crowned National League division winners. We’re talking about comfortable – how about double digits? – leads. Posting a Magic Number for the White Sox is folly.

Read More

Posted on September 24, 2012

By Roger Wallenstein

The modern term, I suppose, is Man Cave, although I’m not as consumed with naming it as I am with using it.
Originally the space was our business office when we operated one. Now the basement in our home serves a number of functions: a location for computers, files, laundry, storage, coolness from the summer heat, and, not incidentally, a lovely, comfortable couch in front of the largest flat screen that fits.
And it’s only half subterranean. Windows filter in unneeded sunlight, giving us a weather report any time we gaze outdoors.
If I ever intimated that this was my place – my private place – to observe the White Sox, my wife, dearest Judith, would simply indicate the part of my anatomy in most imminent danger. No, this is a combined affair, watching and waiting to see if our White Sox can outlast the Tigers in this most surprising of seasons.

Read More

Posted on September 17, 2012

By Roger Wallenstein

Good teams win the close ones, and neither team meeting tonight at U.S. Cellular appears to be very good.
Even though the four games this week between the White Sox and Tigers very well could determine the Central Division champion, both clubs enter the series in a fog. At this point, you have to give a tepid nod to our guys simply because Detroit had such a horrid week, going 1-5 including a three-game sweep in Anaheim over the weekend.
But yesterday’s 2-1, ten-inning loss to the Royals – a game where the Sox blew a number of chances – left Sox fans muttering, “If only . . . ”

Read More

Posted on September 10, 2012

By Roger Wallenstein

“Buen trabajo, mi amigo,” Ozzie Guillen might have texted to fellow countryman Miguel Cabrera after Saturday’s 5-1 pasting of the White Sox as the lame Cabrera had three hits and drove in a couple of runs. “Two bad ankles, but, hey, it’s a big series. You showed ’em, kid.”
When Ozzie was guiding the Sox, he made no secret of his friendship and admiration for the Tigers’ MVP candidate. I never quite understood that. After all, since he joined the Tigers in 2008, the Sox have had little luck getting Cabrera out. He absolutely slays our team.
To think our (former) manager was pals with the guy rubbed me the wrong way. I much preferred his relationship with another Venezuelan, Magglio Ordonez, who played for Detroit after his days with the Sox. Ozzie once called him “a piece of shit.”

Read More

Posted on September 3, 2012