As My Guitar Gently Weeps

 This is all my daughter’s fault.  If Clare hadn’t graduated college, hadn’t graduated high school and was still in travel ball, I’d be fine.  Right about now is when travel teams hold their tryouts.  So, I could be hitting fly balls and grounders, then pitching a little BP to her ready.  But no, Clare has to go and age out.

Then again, I could also say it’s all the fault of my White Sox.  They suck, now six games under, or the equivalent of 19 losses in a row since their 23-10 start to the season.  Even worse, the Bears played first exhibition game of the season, and a 22-0 drubbing by the Broncos means a torrent of “woe is us” coverage in the papers, on TV and on the radio.  Which is just how Jerry Reinsdorf wants it:  Everybody is either counting down the days until the Cubs start their march into the playoffs, or they’re consumed with worry over the latest installment of the McCaskey family follies.  White Sox?  Who that?

I saw in today’s paper that Mets’ manager Terry Collins went ballistic in a postgame press conference after the Mets dropped to .500 for the first time since April.  Wow, I’d just love the Sox to be at .500 now.  Anyway, Collins announced, “Starting tomorrow, we’re going to get after it here, and those who don’t want to get after it, I will find somebody else who does.  In Las Vegas [the Mets’ AAA team], there’s a whole clubhouse filled with guys who want to sit in this room, and I’ll find them.”

The now almost five-year regime of Robin Ventura has been the mirror opposite of Collins.  Nobody gets called out, nobody gets mad.  They may as well put a big banner on the front of the Cell proclaiming, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.”  This is no way to run a major-league ball club.  Then again, who says the Sox are major league?  Not me.