From out of the depths
of the school library on a Wednesday night came this text from our daughter: I hate Adam Dunn, which is to say Clare loves
Paul Konerko.
Over the course of
three seasons with the White Sox, Dunn has struck out 588 times. Compare that to 205 strikeouts for Hall of
Famer Nellie Fox during the 16 years he was a starting second baseman. The thing about Dunn is he doesn’t seem to
care. Most people couldn’t get out of
bed if they were so bad at their job, but not Dunn. He’s the Energizer Bunny with a chaw in his
mouth. He keeps swinging, and missing, swinging
and…
To be fair, a good part
of Dunn’s perceived nonchalance has to be his way of coping; there are probably
days, weeks and months when he’d rather not get out of bed, only he’s getting
paid an outrageous salary. What Dunn and
the Sox front office don’t appear to realize is that the “Who, Me Worry?” look
on their dh’s face could be driving some of his teammates crazy. It certainly has most fans, Clare included.
She’s more like
Konerko, a no-nonsense perfectionist who speaks thoughtfully to the media. (When Clare was in high school, I had her
practice doing interviews in order to deal with the prep-page reporters. I didn’t want hear “duh” followed by a cliché
coming out of her mouth, and it’s worked.)
There’s one difference, though—my daughter doesn’t suffer fools as well
as Paulie seems to. Maybe a long-term
contract would mellow her out.
It’d be nice to find
out.
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