Today's game featured a whole lot of blue skies, billowy clouds, long balls, and lead swaps, as the Mariners and the White Sox faced each other for the fifth time this season. To put it precisely, this game was painstaking from the Ichiro home run that kicked it off and the many ties and lead changes that followed; albeit fun in seeing the Sox climb back from every deficit until the final blow in the 12th inning. The Mariners finally got one from the Sox, for the first time this season; and for the first time in the past 8 head-to-head games, dating back to almost exactly one year ago in Chicago.

For full details of the series of events that kept this ballgame going for four hours and sixteen minutes, I'll refer you to the crooked box score. Suffice to say, the Sox lost a winnable battle against one of their favorite opponents. Both teams had their fair share of home runs hit, runners left on base, defensive errors, and bullpen exhaustion. Prior to the 9th, only one inning of the game was scoreless for both teams - the 6th. This was not a game for the faint of heart.

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Apropos of nothing...

This was the first year that I watched (some of) the Academy Awards, after several years of apathetically missing it. I never put much weight into the winners, realizing the politics involved in such a haughty event. But when I was young, I cared enough to at least pay attention every year. This is no longer the case as I approach Oldpeoplesville via the Real-Life-Shit Route.

In fact, my favorite moment of this year's Oscars broadcast didn't even happen outside of my twisted headspace.

The Kodak Theatre's house and stage lights dimmed on cue to set up whatever video they were about to show. All I could think was how amazing it would be if someone hijacked the projector; and instead of showing whatever self-fellating, feel-good movie montage they had planned, they started playing audio of the Judy Garland tapes to the startlingly dark room, full of Hollywood's present-day finest. Can you imagine the horror?

Ideally this would happen a couple hours into the night, when the celebrities were a little liquored up and collectively drunk on their own fabricated fabulousness. Insecure imbibers.
Note: this has nothing to do with exploiting the sadness of Judy Garland (and these tapes are sad). Rather it could serve as a well-timed reminder (a PSA for POS?) to mind their substances and maintain a semblance of reality outside of Hollywood.

Are you hungry?
Are you sick?
Are you begging for a break?

Are you sweet?
Are you fresh?
Are you strung up by the wrists?

We want the young blood.

Are you fracturing?
Are you torn at the seams?
Would you do anything?
Flea-bitten, moth-eaten?

We suck young blood.

As much as I hate to silence the jokes about my broken promises regarding a new rumpus room, we're overdue and I want a clean thread as much as anyone. I'm sure there will be other opportunities. I'm sorry for the tardiness. Life hasn't been too kind or accommodating lately and as I write this, I'm merely seeking the 75-word minimum to get this posted. My head is throbbing and my brain feels numb right now. And I'm not even thinking about Chris Sale.
I'm a bit of a mess as I recover from what I can only imagine was food poisoning. A whole lot of bile has passed my lips today. Yayyy.

So, how about I just add a few springtime pictures that I've taken this week. Photobucket seems temperamental right now. I'll publish this and add them once they're loaded. Give me a week or so. ;p

Rumpus away.

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After a week of White Sox baseball that can most aptly be described as disheartening, today's series finale against the Red Sox featured its share of redemption.

The White Sox offense got some pent-up runs out of their system early, scoring 3 runs in the first inning with a mixture of singles, a bunt, and a 2-run Dunn-dinger that landed just a few rows shy of the concourse in RF. I wonder if Peavy was thinking "one inning too late." I may have been.

But the story of the day was Gavin Floyd's fantastic outing, featuring perfection through 5.2 innings and a no-hitter into the 7th. Floyd was in command from the start with all of his pitches cutting and curving as they should; and with Perfect Games all up on the brains, Floyd's first baserunner didn't come until he walked Cody Ross with 2 outs and 2 strikes logged in the 5th. His next Red Sox runner was Aviles in the 7th, who hit a single past Sunday second-baseman Escobar, with one out. Whether Beckham would've had it is debatable; but nobody was getting to the RBI double smoked off the stick of Ortiz one batter later. Ross singled after that and with Ortiz at 3rd, Gavin left the mound to a standing ovation. Addison Reed finished the 7th and protected Floyd's 2-run lead by getting lil' Nick Punto to hit a grounder to Dunn (Punto's first contact of the day, after registering two of Floyd's nine total strikeouts).

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Boston Red Sox @ Chicago White Sox

Sunday, April 29th, 2012 1:10 PM CDT

Josh Beckett vs Gavin Floyd

Today's local forecast: Light.

Chicago sports fans in desperate need of an upper and the White Sox haven't won a game since Monday.

Also, Happy Lee Elia Day to you and yours. Now get a f*ing job!

Boston leads the miserable series 3-0

Hello there, esteemed Rumpusers.

As some of you are aware, I live in Seattle these days and therefore got to see a few Sox games in person this past weekend. Just a regular ol' Sox sweep at Safeco. The usual. And I guess that Perfect Game nstuff.

Saturday's game took all the limelight for rightful reasons and I nearly forgot to mention the exceptional time that was Friday night's game. Figured I'd use this week's RRRR to fill in just a couple of the details.

Every time they visit Seattle, I catch one of the Sox games with my friend Hassan, who is also from Chicago. We were introduced through email in early 2008, by a mutual Seattle friend who knew we shared a love for the White Sox. So we made a plan to meet in person for the first time over a Chicago hot dog lunch on Sox Opening Day '08; and we've been great friends since.

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You folks are truly amazing followers-of-instructions. Thank you!

We are almost entirely paid on our section for the outing and we have quite the robust bunch of folks attending this year.
I need to pay off the balance ASAP, but I'm missing a few payments yet, so let me know what's up/when I can expect your money (if you haven't already).

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"Wish you could come with me today. I may be going alone...damn my superstition."

I sent that text message to my best friend in Seattle just before 11 AM yesterday.
She is no longer allowed to join me at Safeco when the White Sox are in town and I've been transparent and deliberate with my non-invites. She understands.
Over the past two seasons, she has attended only two baseball games: the only two Sox losses in Seattle. Heartbreakers, at that.

First on Wednesday July 21^st, 2010 when Bobby Jenks blew a 1-0 save in the bottom of the 11^th after a Floyd and Felix Hernandez pitching duel.
And more recently: Friday May 6^th, 2011, Humber v. Felix. Humber allowed only two runs in the 7^th inning; but the Mariners walked off of Thornton in bottom of the 9^th of the 2-2 game.

That was enough for me. When the conversation casually came up that the Sox would be in town this weekend, I firmly reminded her that she was not welcome. Even as of yesterday morning, when I suspected I'd be attending the game by myself, her wonderful company was not worth the risk of a Sox winner.

And so I hopped on my bike at Noon and headed towards Safeco. Nearly to the park, I realized I forgot my bike lock at home. I had to turn around for it. Not exactly ideal for someone who could practically feel the previous night's Sox winner debauchery seeping (I mean, glistening) from her pores. I really didn't need my four-mile ride to turn into ten miles before my first bite of food, but alas. I quickly grabbed garlic fries and water and pulled up a sunny seat at Safeco.

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Gatherers of SouthSideSoxdotcom, allow me to lead you to an important discussion happening over on the Right Rail: The 2012 SSS Outing (aka: The Meet-up)(aka: The Meth-up). I'll let the details at the link speak for themselves; but I'll take a separate moment here to explain more about the history and what this whole outing business entails.

In 2009, I organized the first annual outing for South Side Sox and flew in to see it through that May. It was a different time for the site and only about twenty of us emerged with timid exhilaration, to meet at a game. In this "community" of people who gather virtually near-daily under one common interest and shared passion (and then wind up talking about everything else under the sun), meeting in person seemed a logical step.

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Hiya gang. I have our seats selected and reserved for the Annual SSS Outing on Saturday, May 26th against the Indians. The list of attendees is below.

If I've missed anyone in those oft-hairy past threads, please speak up now to be added.

If you (or your plus ones) are on the list of maybe's below, please confirm either way now. A final head count is needed by end of next week. If I don't hear from you, I will have to assume you're a no-go. The world of meth-up organizing is a cutthroat one! I love you, but I can't let feelings get in the way!

As you can probably guess, the offices of the Chicago White Sox don't eff around when it comes to collecting. Someone has to keep up with Kenny's disappearing coins. They want our moneys quick-like, so please send $42 (per ticket) through Paypal to me:
subterraneanhsa@gmail.com

Along with the payment, please write a note indicating your email address and identifying yourself (in SSS terms), so I can create the distribution list for follow-up detail-emails before the event. And also so I can keep track of who has paid - I'll mark you off the list below when I've received your payment.

Paypal is a relatively easy thing to figure out; but if you have questions about it - or anything related to the outing, email me directly or post them in the comments here.

For shizzles:

1. homesickalien
2. craigws
3. Rhubarb
4. Kenwo
5. Dr Emilio Lizardo
6. South Side Expat
7. Jack M
8. LockportSox
9. LockportSox's Oklahoma girl-child
10. pierzynskirules
11. Trooper
12. thatshortkid
13. 2ndHalfAdjustments
14. HappyHuman
15. HappyHuman's mom
16. Grinder in Training
17. 67WMAQ
18. Tdogg
19. Chef Julius
20. billyok
21. Captain_Wookie
22. Daniel Berlyn
23. Scotty Ballgame
24. oahu420
25. LT_Sox_fan
26. The Cheat
27. AnoHito
28. usualsuspect
    
29. Jim Margalus
30. CaptainWookie plus one
31. Mike
32. Jonny Fontane
33. 815Sox
34. blackoutsox
35. This guy named Peter
36. Peter's soandso
37. e-gus
38. Tdogg's 18th member, Junius

Maybeeees:

1. Kenwo's brother
2. Margalus, Jim
3. whitesoxmatt
4. blackoutsox
5. Buehrleman
6. Mrs. Buehrleman
7. Tdogg's 3rd
8. ChiSoxRox
9. oneloyaldawg
10. Hazymania
11. Captain_Wookie plus one

I said I'd get this posted today and I meant it! It's 11:45 PM where I am and I need to keep this short and sweet so I can get my arse to bed and up at the crack to head to the ocean.

I wanted to discuss the 2012 SSS Outing once more in hopes that some of the maybe's from the first thread, will be closer to definite's either way. I'm planning to secure our section soon, which will require that I have a truer head-count; and at which point, I'll ask you all to start sending me money through Paypal so we can cover the deposit.

If you've already committed in the first thread, no need to confirm you're coming unless something has changed. If you're a maybe, please indicate whether you've made a decision. If you haven't said anything and want to go, please say so now! Saturday, May 26th be the date.

Of course as a RRRR, the discussion is open for other tomfoolery.

So here's just a little bit of that. I'm a big fan of Azealia Banks and the few songs of hers that I've heard. If you haven't already dug on this, please do! I'm *this close to having it memorized (you know how I enjoy rapping poorly), it rocks my socks and makes me giggle at the same time. Anyone else into this young lady?

Blarrgffgghhhhf. Is it springtime yet? Feels like I'm experiencing full-body atrophy right now. I need to stretch just to stretch.

After spending the entirety of summers frolicking outdoors, it's my standard response in the off-seasons ("winter", if you will) to remain in the fetal position indoors until spring - and baseball - reappears. Sure, I'll surf the occasional cold wave or throw a rainy-day disc here or there; but aside from bowling* and walking between my car and my office on weekdays**, I admit that there is no regular exercise in my life during the winter months. Nary a bead of salty sweat shed from my brow!

I usually make it to spring without much nagging or retaliation from my body. But not this year, boy. Apparently I've crossed that age where I'm now on a steep physical decline. I suppose this should come as no surprise. After all, we established on SSS well over three years ago, that I am depreciating rapidly. (Thanks, recently-fixed search function!)

I suddenly need to perform regular upkeep on this ol' flesh machine, else I'm achy. My metabolism is still kicking ass, but my lower back - not so much. And it doesn't appear that this is something I can solve with duct tape, like most of my aging vehicular issues. Nor with booze, like most of my aging emotional issues.

Speaking of dranks. Allow me now to stretch... so that I can then stretch - way back! - to the topic of Butt Chugging. That's an exercise, right? Sounds exhausting.

I read an article a couple months ago about this crazy craze that features young females stuffing liquor-soaked tampons into their hoohahs. The equivalent for boys, is called butt-chugging. I mean, it's not that crazy I guess. We all know it's a direct route to the bloodstream. And it certainly eliminates the need for mints or gum to disguise liquor on the breath of the under-aged. Clearly these kids are being practical and prudent with their buzzes.

Of course, what I retained most from that article, was the doctor's quote about how this practice will LITERALLY DESTROY THE VAGINA.
I love the use of literally in this quote, paired with the verb destroy. Like that vodka-soaked tampon is the equivalent to sticking a rabid wombat up your cha-cha.

I refuse to try these things myself, as I don't wish to literally destroy any ladyparts. But I am still amused by the pondering of it. Kids, amirite? And just think - as a woman, I'm totally capable of ordering a double!

*No. No, I do not actually consider bowling to be exercise.

**Nor is a half-mile walk, I realize.

So, what do you guys do on Tuesday nights?

How many of you immediately thought to reply with "Your mom"? Or perhaps in the truer spirit of SSS, simply, "Your face."

I'm pretty into my Tuesday nights.

Although piano lessons once severely dampened the appeal of Tuesdays for me, there came the fine day that Jack Bauer crash-landed into my life and suddenly severely moistened Tuesdays. I meeeeean. Made them good. Gooder. Better.
/cough

I'd ride the Tuesday evening express Metra (yeahh, you know the one!) out of the city after class to meet my friend Mike for some quality "24"-watching action. By which I mean, Jack Bauer was involved in the action portion; while the most I ever had to do was move to the edge of my seat and drop my jaw like it was hot. And fap.

Now imagine my disappointment - nay! heartbreak - when I solidified my Fall class schedule one semester, right before learning that 24 was moving to Monday nights! Recall that these were the primitive days of attempting to set up VCR recordings, folks!

Anyway, nowadays I have bowling league on Tuesday nights. And that totally way beats Bauer. I can feel myself coming into adulthood on Tuesdays, while I sweat it out at the lanes. Especially now that I've begun working exclusively on my hook roll, like a boss. And especially when I get home and settle down on the couch, usually slightly intoxicated, to watch the newest recorded episode of Dance Moms.

Wait, what?

You heard me. I ain't never done tried it, but I imagine Dance Moms is a lot like crack.

I'm not even some great enthused watcher of reality tv shows. Jersey who? Dancing with the whatsnaw?
But there was a lazy weekend a couple months back in which I found myself surfing the tube; and I came across the train wreck that is Dance Moms. Actually, let's face it, train wrecks are probably far less tragic than what occurs on that show. Between the dance studio head Abby Lee Miller, and the selfish, shallow, corruptive mothers whom the show follows, you get a pretty solid idea of why terrorists hate freedom.

Who really knows why I torture myself for 40 minutes at a time while I indulge in this wretched fat cow fest; but I suspect it's fulfilling some sick thrill that I once felt while serving evil customers as a barista. I don't get that anymore on the day-to-day. Everyone around me is just sorta nice. Whereas some of the women on the show remind me of the soccer mom sluts I used to delight in observing and loathing in real life.

Now, I figger this isn't the Dance Mom-watchin' crowd. But I also assume some of your lameass wives watch that Lifetime turd, so maybe you've been exposed to its horror too. Maybe you've even been sucked into repeat watchings. Maybe you even enjoy it. I'm looking at you here, Kenwo.

I only got on this topic because I wanted to ask about your Tuesday nights.
Tuesday is a somewhat shapeless day for a lot of people I know. It's not Monday, which carries its own negative significance among weekday workers; but it's pretty damn close. And that's why I've truly enjoyed the past year of having bowling league take place on Tuesdays. Improves the entire pace of the week. I encourage you to treat your Tuesdays with a little more flavor, if you don't already.

But for fuckssakes, do not watch Dance Moms.

As you may have read in the previous Rumpus Room, the date of this year's SSS meet-up is Saturday, May 26th.
Last year's meth-up was exceedingly fun because we were working with a day game and therefore had ample time for tomfoolery both before and after the game; so I was looking for an opportunity to do that again this year.

We're playing the Indians on the 26th, which will be the first time our outing has fallen on a non-NL opponent; let alone a division rival! But hopefully our combined forces will still be good for a Sox winner.

I'd like to get this ball rolling now so we can have a section booked and deposit down around the start of the season. Please use the comments to express interest if you are seriously planning to go.
Or if you'd like to go, but are tentative on whether arrangements will be possible for you to make it, please also indicate that in the comments. I'm just looking for a rough head-count for now.

Rumpus on, Right Rail.

I'm back from the dentist. Story of my life, I know!
Only there are no painkillers easing me into the mellow, uplifting, rumpusing mood that I had anticipated. Noooo, the dentist didn't bother sending me on my way with anything more than a couple Advils and some super helpful advice to ice my face. She even reiterated that it will hurt in the same breath that she denied the prescription.
Oh yes, it will hurt.

Devil woman!

Today was the first time they've successfully set up a dental dam in my mouth, much to my chagrin. Last time they attempted, the rubber bands snapped almost instantly and they ceased trying. I didn't see the point of one anyway and they seemed to manage just fine without it.

Today, they were adamant about the dental dam. As if six shots of Novocain (one directly to the nerve... /shudder) wasn't enough, they needed to attack my inner, not-numbed gums too, with these tight metal clamps that caused so much pressure and what I considered unnecessary additional pain. And no painkillers to be had! Did I mention that already?

I don't wish to start this RRRR down the awful path of a dental discussion because I fear that Buehrleman might never visit us again over here if I did. Nay, I'm more interested in what enrages you all most about your day-to-day, mundane, life comin'-atcha nonsense.

Because despite the severe dread in going to the dentist, I find myself commencing dentist visits with a smile. I'm my usual jovial self towards the dentist. I don't complain about pains or shots. I keep my shit together.

But by the second hour of bright lights and dental dams, I am frankly pissed. My blood's boiling. I don't exchange pleasantries on the way out. I leave there scowling. Or is that just my numb, droopy face...? Regardless, I feel in that moment like I've been violated somehow and I want to maim anyone who gets in my way. Like that guy whose knees I shattered in the parking garage today.
Yeah. Like that guy.

There are other examples of simple things that fire me up more than others. People who walk all shitty down the street, always obliviously wandering right where you're trying to step to get around them. The freight train stopping on the tracks... and then reversing... and stopping again. The people who know the lane is merging ahead, but ride the disappearing lane 'til the bitter end in traffic, which of course delays all the people abiding in the proper lane.

Alright. I need a drink and to skedaddle to bowling league now. What everyday bee-ess gets your goats the mosts?

Per Acting Lord of Rumpusing Rhubarb's suggestion, this Right Rail Rumpus Room's topic is excuses!
Your favorites used? Best you've heard?

Yeah, I got one for not being around here lately! Yeah, it may very well stink!

Crap, I know it does. But I'm still going to shove it under your noses because that's what we, as humans, feel compelled to do.

From what I understand, this is happening around many corporations nowadays; but I have recently become victim to a workplace environment transition. That's right, a WET.

Heh. They didn't really call it that. But they would have it didn't have a sort of double-entendre about it!
For real, the acronyms are way out of control in corporations. I'm sure some of you can relate. I'd even like to hear your favorites. I'll never forget the meeting in which I was informed that I was an SME (a "smee"). A Subject Matter Expert, to be precise. I would have loved to see the irritated yougottabefuckinkiddingme look on my face when that came onto the presentation slide a couple years ago. I refuse to use it.

Anyway, in this new workplace environment, I've been stripped of my unnecessarily big cubicle and high, privacy-permitting walls; and forced into an open, loving, intimate, can't even pick my nose atmosphere. And to make matters worse, my manager and director are now sitting directly in my back pocket. Facing my computer.

What am I supposed to do, SSSers? And more pressingly, what am I going to do when the season starts again!? I love my Thursday 11 AM games. For years, I've had full freedom to watch those games at work. And now? Now I'll have to work or something.

Sigh.

These are stressful questions on el dudette's brain here. In the meantime, I'm sorry for my negligence. If the Rumpus Room was a baby, it would be long dead in the bathtub by now.
I appreciate what has been done in my absence, by 'barb and CSR and the like. Thank you for rumpusing on. Excuses aside, I miss this place. I'd probably be coping through the off-season better if I was around more.

Alright, I'm going to post this to get up a new thread since it's getting into the evening in Chicago and I know it's snowing there and many of you will be around drinking from home. I still have a bit more work to do here before I'm into my Friday evening, but it's high time I fixed myself a gin anyway.

Been fun spending some time here this week while Seattle has treated me to snow and ice and then more snow. Thanks for entertaining the kitty.

I darn well figure many of us will be hitting the theaters this week (if not already) to see Moneyball.  There's an expiring thread on this here Right Rail, about a little SSS outing to the film yesterday.  I gather that LockportSox, larry, Chiburb, and DrEmilioLizardo met in the deep suburbs for some early boozing and baseball movie-watching, like good old people do on Sunday afternoons.  I know, I know... larry isn't an old people.  But he does like the smell of death.

2000 miles westward, I saw Moneyball yesterday too.  I'm not going to write any grand review here because I know people are sensitive to spoilers or whatever.  Not that I feel there is anything to spoil.  Especially not if you've read the book, which I assume most of us have.  

Suffice to say it's well-acted and the tale is well-unfurled.  For a story that's been a long time coming to the big screen, I've had a long time to contemplate how they'd turn it into a 2-hour film.  I was pleased with the result.  Without going too far into Billy Beane's personal life (preferred), there was still plenty of emotional investment in not necessarily so much the character; but this referenced "romance of baseball".   I recommend the film to any lover of baseball.  Especially the ones that will still argue a player's worth, without even mentioning OBP.  

So let the discussion continue here for those who saw it and want to share their thoughts.  
Just for reference though, please read the following service announcement from larry, pasted from a recent Fanshot brought to you by longtime poster and OPOS darling, the one, the only, winningugly:

oh. wonderful. another article that parrots the Hirsch brothers' book's silly conclusions.

since we’ll probably be hearing this a few times in the following weeks, let’s go over a few things:

1) the reason no one asks why, if sabermetrics are so effective, beane’s draft picks didn’t work out is because that’s the wrong question. beane’s particular approach to the draft in 2002 was not effective. that does not mean that his particular approach to major league talent acquisition was not effective. or that sabermetrics is not effective.

2) noting that OBP has dropped in recent years and then leaping to the conclusion that OBP is not important is dumbfuckery of the highest grade. offense is down overall. er-fucking-go, all offensive numbers will also be down.

3) the book is about, to a large degree, OBP because that was the inefficiency they saw then and sought to exploit. market inefficiences are not going to last a decade, particularly after a best-selling book and movie is made about it.

4) and if moneyball “didn’t change the game very much”, why do the new york yankees now employ more than 20 people working on analytics? information is king and, if moneyball showed anything, it was that an organization needs that information to be competitive. and perhaps again this is framing the issue incorrectly. maybe moneyball merely accelerated the widespread adoption of something (increased use of analytics and technology) that nearly every other sophisticated business (including the ones that major league owners often run/own) had been doing for years already. moneyball was essentially a glimpse of trend in its nascent stage.

by larry on Sep 22, 2011 11:42 AM PDT reply actions   6 recs

Rumpus on, everyone.

Hi guys.  I've been a horrible, neglectful governess lately.  Thank you to the folks who stepped in to create Rumpus Rooms while I've been away.  

Admittedly, I needed a break.  There was finally a moment of this long season that left me hopeless before the elimination could even be confirmed mathematically.  As some of you know, I am typically that asshole who tries to remain hopeful until the bitter end; but my end was bitterly met this season prior to any singing Liz's.  

After a long and exhausting week of moving, involving no less than a gazillion trips up and down stairs, I was unpacking boxes and watching as the Sox somehow managed to blow a 7-run lead, allowing the Tigers to chisel away towards a win on the Saturday that started this month.  

I was officially listless.  Infuriated and over it.  Ready to claim what was left of my summer evenings, and Seattle was all too helpful by throwing a couple weeks of 80s+ weather our way at the same time.  I needed to seize that vitamin D; and I'm glad I did since this Monday was the unofficial end of sunny days in Seattle, for approximately the next six months.  

I'm going to miss baseball horribly.  Winter is always rough on the ol' ticker.  Despite a brutal and frustrating Sox season, this year will not be an exception.  I'll still long for those first pitches and cracks of the bats.  The crocuses returning to Capistrano, if you will.  A clean slate of hope and excitement for the long season ahead.  It'll be here soon enough.

For now though, I'm getting some writing done, cooking nice dinners, going for bike rides along the Puget Sound, and making peace with the finality of another season.  Relieved to be cut loose from the emotional roller coaster of an under-performing team led by an uninspired manager. 

With the offseason right around the corner now, I wish everyone well with their own peace-making; and I look forward to our SSS book club and banter to get us through until Ps & Cs.  Cheers, everyone.

After seven straight losses at home dating back to July, the White Sox finally stole a rainy one at The Cell behind a solid performance from Peavy, who pitched 6.2 innings and hung in the game for a long (for him) 115 pitches.  Thanks largely to an impressive Sox defense, Peavy's only troublesome inning was the 5th; in which the Royals batted around the lineup and scored all of their four runs on singles.  The Royals' 5th inning put the Sox behind 4-2 after they'd been leading on a 3rd inning 2-run homer by Paulie.  But the Sox bullpen of Crain and Sale once again shut down the late innings and allowed the offense to climb back against a tired Hochevar and the Royals bullpen, who didn't exactly clean up Hochevar's mess when he left in the 7th with two men on and no outs yet registered. 

Tyler Flowers hit his first major league home run in the bottom of the 5th to put the Sox within a run; and a Q-double in the 7th scored Pierre to tie the game at 4.  Royals relief pitcher Aaron Crow then walked Alexei to load the bases before walking De Aza and scoring Vizquel to give the Sox the lead.  

After another rain delay, Sale threw a scoreless ninth for the save and gave the Sox their first home victory since the win that began the Boston series in late-July.

Continue reading this post »

I don't have anything to say as I open this new fanpost template under immense pressure from the community (read: texts from Chiburb) to start a fresh thread.

Although I do have a ridiculous song stuck in my head and I'm not sure how or why it got lodged in there.  Most of you are better about keeping up with pop culture, so you've probably heard it.  Something about a "dougie" I think.  I only know the song because Girl Talk sampled it on his new album so it's inevitably sunk its hook into my brainzz.  

Update:  Some dickwad  A very helpful coworker sent me the link to the youtube video for the Dougie song.  Cali Swag District?  What the -? Who the-?  Uggh... kids.  

Regardless of initial disgust, this is inspiring me to create a dance for/inspired by SSS. 
And I hear the collective you calling back to me, "[hsa] Teach me how to Rumpie, teach teach me how to Rumpie!"

- You'll have to be seated to do it, in the natural Sox blogging position.  
- Get a fat beat, any old fat beat (or should these beats require "phatness"? I don't know).   Here's one, in case you need beatssistance.  
- Extend your hands hovering over your keyboard in the typing position.  
- Proceed to pop and lock your wrists up and down to the beat.  
- Try alternating swirling your hands to simulate the "Mouse in da House".  
- If you want to get fancy, separate, wiggle and wave your left pinkie to do the "Z-key Zcroll".
- Don't be shy to involve neck and shoulders too.  Your whole upper body should be utilized and moving, although the emphasis is on your hands.  
- Have a stick nearby for beating away all the fine women that are bound to accumulate near/around your bathing suit areas.
- Resume Sox blogging.

I apologize for the informal nature of this.  This all came to mind in the last thirty minutes and now I regret not having a video to accompany the instructions and show you how to Rumpie.  I think I'll upload a video of this soon, if I can figure out all the technological details in doing that.  In the meantime, get your rumpie on and enjoy the new thread!

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What up Right-Railers!  Here is your long-awaited new Rumpus Room; deepest apologies for the delay.  
Feel free to blame my job, my friends force-feeding me belated birthday gins, and Nick Swisher.

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I'll keep this brief since I know it's late and we all have solstice-themed drum circles to get to.

Appropriately, the Cubs/White Sox game seemed like a full-evening event, thanks to a near-two-hour rain delay that began in the top of the 6th inning.  Buehrle had a 2-1 lead and found himself in a jam with one out and runners on first and third, after giving up two consecutive singles to Reed Johnson and Starlin Castro, respectively.  And that's when the heavens opened and Bossard & Co scrambled to protect our sacred grounds.  

A couple hours later, the game resumed with Crain on the mound.  Aside from a sacrifice fly to bring Johnson in from third, Crain finished the inning with a strikeout of Soto.  And a tie ballgame.   Crain made amazingly quick work of the Cubs in the top of the 7th, setting the stage for the Sox offense to break the tie in the bottom of the inning.

Alexei led off with a double to left, followed by a single up the middle off the bat of AJ.  Rios popped out to second on the first friggin' pitch, but Morel stepped up with a sacrifice fly to bring Alexei home.  3-2 Sox to Pierre, who also on the first pitch, bunted out to third to end the inning.  You read that right; it's ok to facepalm.  

Thornton replaced Crain in the top of the 8th, but after two singles and two outs, Ozzie called upon Santos to finish the inning.  And protect the serge he did, by striking out Aramis Ramirez to end the threat and preserve the one-run lead.   Sergio returned in the 9th to truly finish the job.  He struck out two of the three batters he faced (including a looking Soto) and swiftly finished the Cubs.  An easy-breezy fine performance from our "closer" (or something) who has been roughed up a tad in recent weeks.  

Oh, and that silly Captain!  Konerko put the first run on the board today with a solo BOMB to left field.  That's his fifth game in a row with a homer, and his 21st long ball of the season.  On the contrary, Dunn continued his streak of awfulness going 0-4, and conveniently batting right after Konerko for maximum display of sucking, as far as relativity's concerned.  PK's first two at-bats featured a home run and a double, and Dunn followed both with strikeouts.  Then in the 8th inning Paulie was intentionally walked, which paid off  for Cubs pitcher John Grabow, when Dunn promptly popped out to first base. 

No matter the extended wet route to get there, a Sox winner ends the longest day of the year and ties the series at one.  Tomorrow may not feature as much daylight, but Peavy returns to the mound for the rubber match, so there are reasons to be hopeful.  

After brief trip to Oz, game starting back up with a 2-1 score in the top of the 6th.

No, this isn't the long-winded follow-up to my post about Charmin Basic.   Sorry to disappoint!   

Today I want to spend a brief two thousand words reflecting upon a movie I saw this weekend.  A little $45 million moving picture called "Super 8".  I don't have a TV as you know, so I am highly capable of avoiding any/all trailers; but I have to assume between JJ Abrams and Steven Speilberg, this film has been more than jammed down your throats by now.  

I'm guessing I won't be able to express my disappointment without a slight spoiler or two, so if you're planning to see this and want to be of a pure mind going into it, please just go about your rumpusing without reading further. 

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Half-expecting tonight's game to resemble the harrowing games of yesterweek, I strapped it down with low expectations, but high hopes for a third Danks victory and some semblance of an offensive demonstration against Zach Duke.  

The game began speedily enough with three Sox going down on five pitches; to which Danks answered with his own 1-2-3 side, including his first K on a slider to Stephen Drew.   Paulie led off the 2nd with a single, followed by an Alexei double to the left-center gap.  Rios brought in Paulie with a groundout to shortstop, Castro walked, and the rally stopped there with a Beckham flyout and a Danks groundout.  Amusingly, Danks worked Duke a bit by taking the first three pitches for balls, and the Arizona crowd let their disapproval be known.  Duke responded by throwing two strikes by Danks before getting him to reach for the groundout.  Two men left, but hey, a run!  A lead!

Bottom of the 2nd, Danks rather quickly gave up the leadoff single to Chris Young on an 0-2 count, but then caught him in a pick-off/run-down attempt and wiped his runner away just in time to have Ryan Roberts crush a fastball to the center field wall.  A seemingly makable play for Rios, I'm not real clear on what went wrong.  A misread, misplay, I don't know.  He did not catch it.  Roberts wound up on second and right around this point of the game, I realized I am really digging on Danks' beard.  (I actually wrote that in my recap notes.)  

Xavier Nady lined a ball up the center directly into the glove of Becks, who was playing close to the base keeping on top of Roberts' lead at 2nd.  Becks doubled-up Roberts and Danks escaped his first jam with his lead sitting unsettlingly at 1-0.

The top of the third brought more Sox offense with a Morel double on a deep hit ball to the right-center gap.  Q flew! Out, that is.  Up came Captain Paulie, who lined a hit up the middle right between Duke's legs to score Morel from third,  2-0 Sox.   

Danks' quick 3rd inning featured two more Ks, and a swift 1-2-3 for the Sox offense took us to the bottom of the 4th, when the game got a little frightening for a couple reasons.

Bloomquist singled to start the inning, then Drew hit a line drive straight at Danks, who spun instinctively to his right, and in doing so took the hard-hit ball fresh off the bat, to the back of his head.  Hard line shot.  Bounced off Danks' skull above his left ear, and ricocheted out of play for a ground-rule double.   Herm evaluated him and Danks insisted his marbles were gathered; and so he marched right back out to the mound to continue the 4th with runners on 2nd and 3rd.  Talk about big and hairy you-know-whats!

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I recently found out the hard way that it's generally a poor practice to fall asleep at night eating Dots and Nerds and Twizzlers and Hi-Chews and candy cigarettes and Smarties and gummy peaches and sour worms, to name a few of my favorite bedtime snacks of the past few years.  Friends have observed that I consume more refined sugar than most people they've ever known.  But as an alien, I'm puh-retty sure my body thrives on those empty carbs. 

I hit up the dentist in May, for the first time since living in Washington.  Having a perfect track record of pearly whites and regular check-ups in Chicago, I at least assumed there would be some damage after such an elapse of time, and given my aforementioned late-night snackery.  Turns out, assuming did not make an ass of me in this case.  I've got tooth decay left and right, up and down.  And a whole lot of drilling ahead of me that commenced yesterday afternoon with five teeth on my left side.

My new dentist in WA is a goddess.  She's a middle-aged hippie-dippie type whose office is not only a comfortably sterile environment for teeth-drilling, but also a gallery for local art.  Of course, Seattle!  Of course.  
She gave me sunglasses and some relaxing island music, and I was just exhausted enough from the night before, to fall asleep in the chair in the two hours she spent drilling my teeth.  

Has anyone else ever slept through two sets of hands in their mouth and a drill, among other pokey-proddy-pressure-inducing devices?  And without any form of sedative or painkiller?   I was pretty tired... but seriously... is there something wrong with me?

Don't answer that.  

I figure there must be some dental horror stories out there.  Who has one?

Pictured:  my ever-changing candy cubby at home.  I have considerably cut back on sweets lately, especially - especially as I lay in bed at night.  ;)

In less than a week, SSS takes to the seats of Comiskular for the 3rd annual outing.  For the forty or some of you guys and gals that are joining in this year's festivities, an email will be coming your way shortly with some nitty-gritties.   I have the tickets and plan to bring them safely to Chicago, where I can distribute them at the tailgate/gate meeting spot (I'll be at the park by 10:30 that morning).   Want your ticket mailed?  Let me know through email with mailing address by Tuesday!

Sox have been gettin' hot since their Seattle visit and I'm hoping we'll have something to cheer for against the Dodgers.  And if nothing else, we will have Uribe!   Reminds me, I'm not even upset that we missed a fireworks night since there should be plenty of cool stuff to look at with judgement day happening and all.  So. That worked in our favor.  

One final piece of business!  We have a fallen meth-upper, so there is one ticket available for purchasing if any last-minute folks want to join.  Lemme know, lemme know.

I took this photo yesterday, among many others of fascinating taxidermy displays, at a rather unique outdoors store in Olympia.  You should have seen the gun section at this place.

I'm pleased as punch to report that I witnessed the first White Sox series win in a month, in my first three live games of the season in Seattle.  At the rate of Sox baseball of late, I was emotionally prepared to be disgusted and struggle through some games against the relatively-hot Mariners.   

Friday night's game against King Felix was the same old sad song, and it bothered me how dead I felt towards the outcome.  As a generally hopeful person, someone who doesn't give up until the elimination is mathematical for example, I sat numb along the left field line on Friday night.  My only real tinglies came from a Q bomb that sailed by my face.  

However, the past two games were fun in a way that we haven't been treated to in seemingly forever.  Offense showed up last night behind a great Gavin start.  Then today, a Buehrle quality start-turned-extra-inning-victory under the mostly sunny Seattle sky, to secure the series.  How refreshing!  And how tightly I plan to cling to these consecutive wins, until the bitter sad song plays again.  

My dad texted me before the game that I needed to get a series win today or not come home, so it looks like I'm free to fly to Chicago in two weeks for our outing.  I am ready for some National League lovin' to turn this season around.  But first, down the West Coast the Sox go, into weather that will hopefully heat up them bats.  

Howdy, rowdy rumpusers!  

I'm back from vacation in Southern California and admit I hardly checked in to the Sox scores while I was away; accessible and handy At Bat app be damned.  Having reviewed scores upon my return, I think I made the right decision to take a break from all the stresses in my life.  April White Sox baseball included.

Knowing I'd be in Los Angeles for the week, I asked my dear surfer friends in Huntington Beach to shape me a new surfboard that I could pick up while I was down there.  For the cost of materials alone, my friend created a short board based on my requested dimensions and artwork.  

I paddled the beauty below for the first time into the lineup and head-high waves at the Huntington Pier on Saturday.  This was also my first session in "warm" waters, having only surfed in Washington and Oregon prior to now.  A special day, indeed.  I hope the majority of the reading audience will enjoy the art I chose for the board.

In other news, yesterday was the release of the Thao Nyguyen and Mirah album, and I can't recommend it enough.  I had already put in a good 20 listens from the free stream on NPR, but I woke up yesterday and downloaded it right away.   Here is the link to the free NPR listen, though if you're a fan of Thao at all, I say go straight to purchasing the album.