But not in a good way. I missed a series, but it really doesn’t matter at this point, there all the same. Texas came and took two out of three, which isn’t much of a surprise, really. They are clearly the better team, so I can’t complain much. I guess it’s because it is the same story over and over; crappy starting pitching, no hitting to speak of and, ooh something new! an overused bullpen is starting to show signs of wear and tear.
The insult of the homestand (and hey there’s still Detroit!) was losing two of three to the Cleveland Indians. They are such a bad team that watching these teams play is kind of depressing. Not just the bad baseball on display, especially by the White Sox but the Indians were the team of my youth and I can’t bring myself to hate them. Since it is my nature to look for something to come from all of this, it’s this: I get to talk and banter with my Dad, a life long Indians fan. We get to commiserate about our lousy baseball teams, talk about how baseball in general, and gab in general. I mean we talk throughout the year, but there is an extra element when it’s Indians and Sox. My son gets into as well. He loves, LOVES to talk to Poppi after a White Sox win. He knows everyone that got a big hit, who pitched poorly and of course the final score. My dad loves it too; you can tell by the way he says, “little shit!” If that’s not what baseball is all about, I don’t know what is.