By Roger Wallenstein

My friend Roger Zanarini had been after me for a few years to join him in Omaha for the College World Series, so last weekend we finally made the trip to see four games and all eight teams in two days. I’m glad I did.
Zanarini isn’t exactly a stranger in Omaha. In the past 41 years, the only CWS he’s missed was last year when his home in Dakota Dunes, South Dakota – about 100 miles north of Omaha – took on 39 inches of water thanks to the swollen Missouri River. Okay, it’s a flimsy excuse for missing out on the big four-oh, but I can forgive him. He’s the same guy who’s played golf in all 50 states, so streaks and records obviously carry some weight with Roger.
Play continues in Omaha all this week as the national champion will be crowned next Monday or Tuesday.

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Posted on June 18, 2012

By Roger Wallenstein

If you lower the price, they will come.
In an attempt to counter the lukewarm response to the White Sox’s early-season success, the team’s dynamic pricing strategy offered $5 seats last week for the Toronto series. Lo and behold, people showed up.

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Posted on June 11, 2012

History hangs in the air the same way that the kudzu hugs the trees. Sitting in the first base grandstand, I closed my eyes for a few moments last Wednesday afternoon and tried to visualize Satchel Paige standing on the mound as a 20-year-old rookie in 1927. If that sounds somewhat peculiar, blame it on Rickwood Field.
Billed as the oldest ballpark in America, Rickwood’s turnstiles first spun in 1910. Its rich tradition and history are a part of Birmingham, Alabama, where the steel and iron industries highlighted its early economy and where the civil rights movement gained a foothold, signaling genuine change in America.
For the past 17 years, the Birmingham Barons, the White Sox’ Double-A affiliate, have staged the Rickwood Classic, a regular Southern League contest characterized by vintage uniforms, brass bands, and a few thousand fans – the announced crowd Wednesday was 7,180 – eager to hold onto and honor the past.

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Posted on June 4, 2012

By Roger Wallenstein

He was two months short of his 17th birthday when he left his California home and headed to Chicago for what Jim Derrington says was a “dream come true.”
Thanks to the Bonus Rule and his electric left arm, Derrington spent the final two weeks of the 1956 season – and the entire 1957 season – as a member of the White Sox. On the final day of the ’56 campaign, a year when the Sox went 85-69 and finished third in the American League, manager Marty Marion named Derrington to start against the Kansas City A’s. “I was the youngest pitcher to ever start a major league game,” Derrington, now 72, recalled in a phone conversation last week.
Derrington lasted six innings in that historic, but long forgotten, game in Kansas City and was tagged with a 7-6 loss.
None of this would have occurred if wealthy, greedy teams like the Yankees hadn’t begun to sign and stockpile hot prospects right after World War II, outbidding the competition any time they thought a guy had the potential to become a big leaguer.

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Posted on May 28, 2012

By Roger Wallenstein

Turn back the clock a few years and it might have been the newly-retired Kerry Wood, not Jeff Samardzija, whose errant splitter last Friday made Paul Konerko look more like former middleweight champ Carmen Basilio than the walking monument of the South Side.
Back in 2002-03, when a healthy Wood was about the same age as Samardzija and just learning how to pitch, he led the National League in hitting batters. Did he hit any of those 37 guys on purpose? It’s not out of the question, but intent isn’t necessarily the issue.

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Posted on May 21, 2012

By Roger Wallenstein

My first ballgame was in 1950 at Crosley Field in Cincinnati. Our family didn’t move to the Chicago area until the following summer, and my dad grew up a Reds fan. The team was god-awful in those days, and no doubt Pop didn’t want to suffer in solitude. So he loaded my brother and me into the car for a trip to the ballpark to watch the likes of Ted Kluszewski, Ewell Blackwell, Bob Usher, and Connie Ryan.
Most recently I watched Gavin Floyd tame the Royals last Friday evening at the Cell. Let’s just say that between that first game 62 years ago and Friday’s 5-0 Sox victory, I’ve seen my share of baseball games.
Therefore, I think I know when to cheer, when to feel elated, when to keep my mouth shut, and when to head for the exit in the seventh inning, which I did a few weeks ago on a frigid evening with the Sox trailing Boston 10-3.
So when the speakers at the Cell blare, “Everybody clap your hands,” or that idiotic chart appears on the Jumbotron purportedly measuring the decibel level from the slightly less than 20,000 in attendance, I become mildly annoyed.

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Posted on May 14, 2012

By Roger Wallenstein

“Chris is gonna be fine.”
The words rolled out of pitching coach Don Cooper’s mouth as though he was saying, “Looks like we’re in for a stretch of good weather,” just as the temperature was dropping last week and hail stones began to fall.
Any time I hear that someone is going to be “fine,” I cringe. Check that. On occasion I get tremors. The implication is that the person in question isn’t “fine” in the present. Ahh, but don’t worry about the future because things are going to be “fine.”
In this case, we’re talking about Chris Sale. He’s not fine? Even with a 3-1 record, a 2.81 ERA in 32 innings having allowed just 24 hits while striking out 29 and walking a mere five batters? Opponents are hitting .205 against him. He’s reduced entire lineups to nine Brent Morels. But he’s not fine?

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Posted on May 7, 2012

By Roger Wallenstein

Maybe this game is less complicated than we thought.
Case in point: The Sox were one of the most inept teams in 2011 when it came to throwing out would-be base stealers. In fact, 135 would-bes morphed into real-bes. Only San Diego (141) and the Red Sox (156) allowed more stolen bases than the White Sox.
The Major League average for cutting down theft last season was 29 percent. The Sox’s 22 percent was 25th out of 30 teams.
But after 22 games this April a mere three of 11 runners have managed to steal a base against the Sox. While the team is .500, none of the other 29 teams comes close to cutting down base stealers with greater precision than our White Sox.

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Posted on April 30, 2012

By Roger Wallenstein

Philip Humber ruined everything.
Just when I sat down to write in glowing terms how the Sox have managed to virtually stop their opponents from ever stealing a base, the guy has to go out and pitch a perfect game. That’s tough to ignore.
And it was very cool. Anyone watching this drama play out on Saturday afternoon before a national TV audience and 22,000 at Safeco Field had to experience a few heart palpitations and shallow breathing. Even A.J. Pierzynski, the consummate pro, admitted to being nervous as he took his position behind the plate for the ninth inning.
Humber’s only three-ball counts jacked up the suspense since both occurred in the bottom of the ninth. He went 3-0 on Michael Saunders before striking him out on three straight pitches for the first out, and then the now-famous 3-2 count on Brendan Ryan before umpire Brian Runge called him out as the ball squirted under Pierzynski’s mitt.
Had Ryan immediately sprinted toward first base, the play might have been close. But luck has a way of interjecting itself in these kinds of events, so Ryan opted to argue the call rather than run to first. A.J. – what was going through his mind as he cocked his arm? – threw a perfect strike to Paulie, and bedlam reigned. The only mystery remaining was whether Jake Peavy would emerge injury-free after tackling Humber as the celebration began.

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Posted on April 22, 2012

It might have been my 1959 replica Sox jacket and cap, but as soon as Ron Finke spotted me loitering among the Opening Day tailgaters, he invited me to join his group. Then I committed my only mistake of the day. I declined.
Finke, a resident of Lemont and a Sox fan for 27 years, may have set an Opening Day record: Most items grilled and consumed by 11 a.m.

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Posted on April 16, 2012