Early to Bed

This is why you don’t stay up late to watch a game on the West Coast: the White Sox sleepwalk through their second straight shutout loss, 7-0 at the hands of the up-until-now fairly hapless Angels, this after a shutout courtesy of the truly hapless Braves.  Better to get upset after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.

Because, really, who wants to see Sox skipper Robin Ventura in his nightshirt coming out of the dugout, especially if he’s bringing in his favorite toy, Matt Albers, he of the 5.06 ERA?  Who wants to watch a team collect all of five hits against a pitcher, Hector Santiago, with an ERA of 4.27 (thanks to those seven scoreless innings he tossed)?  And who wants to hear Hawk Harrelson trying yet again to peddle caviar in the form of horse manure?  I don’t.

You want entertaining zombies, then go watch the Walking Dead on cable.  That a major-league ball club could pretend its product has so much as a pulse is beyond me.  And they wonder why fans don’t want to come and drink the overpriced beer in an upper deck that scrapes the clouds.  It’s like Forrest said, stupid is as stupid does.  And the Chicago White Sox are too stupid for their own good.