What I See

What I see is this—the White Sox are a team totally unprepared, so far, to compete in the postseason. Tony La Russa was hired last Ocotber because White Sox owner Jerry Reinsdorf saw the experience and expertise his team needed in a manager who could lead them to deep playoff runs. In that, Reinsdorf appears sadly mistaken. La Russa employed shifts, and the Astros hit ’em where they weren’t, especially in a five-run seventh inning that sealed a 9-4 loss yesterday. La Russa went to his bullpen, and Houston scored, almost at will. La Russa went to his bench, and he may have lost the game in the process. For reasons I haven’t yet heard explained, the White Sox manager pinch hit Cesar Hernandez for Adam Engel in the top of the seventh. Surprise, not, Hernandez struck out. That was bad enough, but there were consequences to come, with Leury Garcia shifting from second base to right in the bottom of the inning. Again, if La Russa explained why he thought weakening his outfield defense late in the game was a good idea, I didn’t hear it. Which brings us to the bottom of the seventh. After the Astros had strung together three seeing-eye singles to take the lead, La Russa lifted Aaron Bummer for Craig Kimbrel, who by La Russa’s own admission in the postgame, is a closer being made to pitch in non-closer situations. (So, why did Rick Hahn go out and get Kimbrel if they already had Liam Hendriks to close? That, my friends, is a question for later.) With two out, Carlos Correa hit a line drive to right that turned Garcia around as it went for a double; unless shown otherwise, Engel catches that ball. A 5-4 score suddenly turned to 7-4, with the obligatory Kimbrel gopher ball following immediately after. Final score, Houston 9 Chicago 4. La Russa’s postgame comments have been an embarrassment, or should be for anyone so proud of his HOF status. Thursday, he went after a TV reporter who dared to ask how the Sox would come back from a 6-1 loss; La Russa responded that she didn’t know the team. Yesterday was filled with blather about effort and being ever so close. Somewhere, Rick Renteria smiles. And the rest of us cry.