Gas! They (Mathematically) Gone

Now that the White Sox get to go play the congas and drink bathtub tequilla this October instead of playing baseball, many people will want to ask, "What happened?" (Or as Tadahito Iguchi would say, "What happen?")

Any baseball fan has to wonder how the defending world champ (sorry Mike--"Provincial Champ in a Sport We Invented") could improve its offense so appreciably yet miss the playoffs and drop at least seven wins from their previous season total.

What some will suggest: The 2005 Don't-Stop-Believin' Go-Go Grinder Gashouse Junction Boys Gang from Spit-in-yer-eye-grit-in-yer-teeth-ville White Sox had a swagger and a killer instinct that the 2006 Chicago Lazy Bunch of Homerun Hitters lacked.

What sensible people would suggest: The 2006 White Sox had to compete against better divisional competition, yet their starting pitching dropped off about as apreciably as their offense improved--possibly due to long innings on tired arms with short rest in blustery mid-October conditions the season before. (No one is saying this is the definitive or only reason that the White Sox starters overall did not perform as well this year. But it's at least a rational suggestion.) Also, the 2006 White Sox made the fatal mistake of not aligning their identity with a hit song tapping into the sentiments of nostalgic thirty-somethings. (Slightly less sensible explanation--basically a rider of the first that I know Zuch would want included.)

Now which version do you suppose turns up in the Chicago sports media in the next day or two?

Grinder Rule #239--Sliding head-first a lot makes it look like you're trying harder.
Grinder Rule #103--Sacrifice bunts make your manager look like he's thinking more.
Grinder Rule #Theseadssweresogay--Vague, inscrutable diagnoses give the pretense of insider knowledge.