How the White Sox Ruined Baseball and My Life

Never mind that this year the trend is for umpires to blow simple calls and give games away (sorry ATL and LAA). This year's hot new fad is to beLIEve in the Sox--the White Sox, or as I say the black sox. Still, it seems that the black sox are everyone's media darlings, and what with their shoot-from-the-hip loudmouth manager, their championship drought, and their shoot-from-the-hip loudmouth manager, who doesn't like them. Me...that's who. So let me explain why the southsiders should not be allowed to field a team:

1. In 1919, the White Sox made it to the World Series fielding what many considered to be the best baseball team ever assembled. But in order to stick it to their crooked owner--the not-so-beloved and nostalgically-saved Komiskey--they sold the World Series to the gambling fixers and all profited massive amounts of cash to compromise the nation's pastime--making them officially known as the black sox. Now, Pete Rose was kicked out of baseball for gambling on the game, so why do the Black Sox still have a franchise. They spat in the face of baseball and now they are loved for it.

2. Ozzie Guillen may be a good manager, but he is not good for baseball. He is good for sports writers and ESPN, but let's not confuse those with baseball.

3. They ruined my vacation. Here I am in colonial Williamsburg just trying to walk down the Duke of Gloucester Street, which we must have done eighteen times that day, and I am wearing my Cubs shirt (can't accuse them of cheating, at least not effectively). Well, as I enjoy a Chownings natural root beer (which I am sure is not natural), we walk past the town hall and some fat docent with a really stupid hat and a stupider puffy shirt starts heckling me: "Hey Cubbie! What do we have here? Are you actually a Cub fan? I didn't know there was any of you left?" His fat chin trembled with excitement that he found a whipping boy.
So I defended my beloved losers: "Oh...heh heh...yeah. Gotta stay strong. Can't give up now--next year is our year." And I walked on.
About an hour or so later we walked right past the place again, and I swear it was like the rotund docent was waiting for me: "Well, well, Cubbie, Cubbie! Why don't you just give them up and try something else on...a winning team."
Okay, insult them, I will be okay, but attempt to proselytize me, and I am forced to act decisively: "So are you one of these bandwagon Cardinal fans that somehow always liked them but couldn't name a player from the 82 championship squad?"
He replied: "I have never been so insulted in my life. Being a Cardinal fan is almost as bad as being a Cubs fan." I have never been closer to punching a docent. Instead, I half-laughed, gave the classic Gen X resopnse, "Whatever..." and walked on.
An hour later we passed again, only to here him shouting out loud and proud: "Cubbie, Cubbie, Cubbie. Three times now you've come by. You must like this discussion." I did not like the discussion.
"Nope." I honestly shouted.
At this point my cousin (who has been a docent before and never gave crap like this) asked, "Are you an Astros fan? Why do you hate the Cubs so much?" I appreciated his sensitivity.
At this point the round mound of retard lifted one of his furry eyebrows and offered, "You know, there is a southside of Chicago too...heh heh heh." He patted his massive puffy shirt clad belly.
I should have known it, a black sox fan. I was seeing red. "Yeah, they call it north hell." I replied. "Enjoy watching your cheating team, who ruined the integirty of the game of baseball before it was cool, win eighty-five by the allstart break and eek out about 14 wins in the second half. Maybe they'll lose in the first round of the playoffs like they always do. Of course, Guillen won't allow that, he needs to cuss some other Latin American country out or something. Yeah, you have to be proud to be a black sox fan." The most wonderful woman in the world pulled me away from the confrontation and chided me for letting him get to me. For the rest of the day, I was angry and didn't get to enjoy the place much.
If he had tried anymore crap (which he didn't) that day we would have done the man-dance. My plan was the gut him like cattle and then slash his tires. Don't mess with the Cubs.

So needless to say, I hate the Black Sox. I don't "believe." I hope the ground opens up and swallows them all--especially Rowand and his shameful backstreet facial hair. Whatever.

Go Angels. You got jobbed last night.

God save the Cheese.