Huh?

I like the White Sox Matt Davidson, I really do.  He’s worked through the adversity of high expectations coupled with poor performance and injury to give himself the chance of a major-league career.  The eighteen homeruns certainly don’t hurt the 26-year old rookie.

But I wonder, what planet is Davidson from?  I remember an episode of the X-Files where an alien who fell in love with baseball was able to play unnoticed in the Negro Leagues.  Could Davidson be related to that green fellow in disguise?  I ask because of his use of the English language.

Davidson is very streaky at the plate, alternating between swinging at everything—which is what my daughter did at the age of eleven—and being selective.  On top of that, playing mostly at DH lends itself to thinking bad thoughts on the bench between at-bats.  Davidson told the Tribune recently, “I’ve done a pretty good job for the most part, but I do at times think too much about hitting, get in my head a little bit, because you’re just sitting there.  You have nothing else to do but think about what you just did.  I’m trying to not do that and stay out of my head in between at-bats.”

Matt, where exactly do you go when you get outside your head?