Game #11 - Bobby Abreu 6, Ozzie's Master Plan 2

Orlando Cabrera thinks something is missing. He isn't sure what it is. But whatever it is, he hopes the Sox can get it back.

This brilliant comment was uttered after the Sox's latest attempt to play the sport of baseball. An inspired, goose-bump inducing attempt. The type of attempt you would expect from a team deep into September, clinging to a slim division lead, with dreams of October dancing in it's head.

Orlando, I'm not a smart man. I won't even begin to try and prove otherwise. But my impressive baseball knowledge aside, I think I can take a stab at what the Sox are missing.

- A bullpen
- A reliable, consistent starting pitcher (let alone five)
- Someone that can bunt
- Someone that can steal a base
- Someone that can hit more than solo homers
- Someone that can hit with runners in scoring position (with or without 2 outs)
- The ability to win a road game
- The ability to string two victories in a row
- A ballsack

I think I may have it covered. If the Sox can aquire all this before next Tuesday's Minnesota series (a.k.a. The series that officially crowns the Twins division champs), I think we may be able to hang onto this pathetic division, Orlando!

I was in class tonight, so I missed pretty much the entire game. And that's a good thing, because chances are I might have destroyed my TV or seriously injured myself. I checked the score during one of the class breaks, and it was 2-1 Yankees. An hour later, and the Sox had managed to keep it close, 7-1. Because I was out in public, and because I didn't want to scare a pretty girl in my class, I decided snapping the neck of my professor would be a bad idea. But on the inside, I was a mess. I was enraged. I was sobbing. I wanted to curl into a ball in my shower while lighting all my White Sox stuff on fire. I hate this team.

And thinking about the way they went about their latest loss just enrages me more. Ozzie has instituted a "beating Minnesota plan." In order to have his three "best" pitchers going for that Twins division clinching series, he moved Cy Vazquez to tonight, to pitch on three days rest. Nevermind the fact that Vazquez really sucks on short rest (as opposed to just plain sucking on normal rest), but Bobby Abreu OWNS Javy. Just absolutely kills him. Genius plan, Oz.

Shockingly, the master plan failed. After the Sox announced their presence early with a solo homer (stunning!), it all fell apart. Vazquez was hammered tonight, almost as badly as the Sox are driving me to get hammered in the month of September. And Mr. Abreu? Two homers and six rbi's. By the time the 6th inning rolled around, Ozzie pulled most of his starters, lest someone else get injured. And in the end, the bench scrubs played with more heart and ballsack than the starting scrubs did.

I'm not in a very good state of mind. In fact, I'm hurting. Emotionally and physically. And to really make tonight a fun-filled party, the Twins rallied in the 9th against the Rays and won. Like big boys are supposed to. So the lead has been trimmed to 1.5, and the magic number for the Sox to get swept in the ALDS remains 9.

They keep cheating on me, they keep coming home well past the time they say they will, and they often reek of whiskey and stripper perfume. They don't pay their bills, they don't pull their weight around the house, and they never take me out anymore. But like the dumbass I am, I will head to class tomorrow with the same ratty, old Sox hat on. Because as Pat Benatar once told me, love is a battlefield. We are young. Heartache to heartache we stand. No promises, no demands.