Enter Rick Morrissey of the Trib (ahhhhh...just typing those words is giving me Proustian tingles) and this little beaut about the ChiSox:

Despite rich history of improbable comebacks, Chicago White Sox just giving up

Desire to dump veterans a disturbing failure of imagination

This article was published on September 2nd. The day before, the ChiSox had SmartBalled their way to a 4-3 loss in Minnesota, leaving them at 64-69. The Tigers had taken care of the Indians, 8-5, leaving them at 70-61. This site at that moment gave them about a 1.4% chance of making the playoffs.

Also, it should be noted, the ChiSox are hopelessly mediocre. They haven't been more than five games over .500 the whole year. They can pitch pretty well, but they can't hit, and there's just no way they're catching the Tigers. But screw the facts – let's enter the Imaginarium of Doctor Morrissey!

Is there no more room for imagination in numbers-obsessed baseball?

Don't just analyze the game. Dream the game.

I'm not talking about creativity. I'm talking about making room in your imagination for the possibility of something special happening, regardless of what the numbers might suggest.

If you are at the plate, and you take strike three, don't just walk away. Stay up there, in the box. Linger. Maybe everyone will forget that three strikes = you are out. Maybe the ump will have a heart attack and in the chaos you can sneaky-pete down to first. Maybe the pitcher will get cocky, like that guy that time on The Apprentice who gave up his immunity because he was so confident he would prevail in the boardroom and then got fired for being stupid enough to give up his immunity, and say, "You know what? Let him stay up there – I'll give back the out and strike him out again!" You never know. It could happen.

The White Sox are seven games out of first place with a month left in the season, and their general manager has let everyone know the team is finished.

What Rick Morrissey of The Trib is talking about is: the ChiSox trading Jose Contreras and Jim Thome a day or so before this article was written. Yes. That's the thing that has made Rick Morrisey feel like the ChiSox are waving the white flag. Trading Jim Thome, who is pretty good but 39 years old, and Jose Contreras, who is listed as 37 but who everyone knows is 50 if he's a day, and who was 5-13, 5.42 with a WHIP of like seventy thousand in 21 starts. Somehow, trading one of the absolute worst starting pitchers in all of baseball means you are giving up.

So, let's start by saying: dumping two 55 year-old guys is not necessarily "giving up." Thome had a pretty good year, all things considered, but just because he and Contreras are veterans and they traded them doesn't mean they are "giving up." Veteran does not = good, always.

Also, and probably more importantly, the team is finished. As I write this, they are 71-73, and 6 games back with 18 to play. Barring an insane miracle collapse by the Tigers, who are better than the ChiSox (not much, but better, especially defensively), the ChiSox' season was indeed over, on September 2nd, when they were 64-69.

So, to recap: they are not giving up, but they are probably finished, so there's no point in writing this article, and we should all just go back to work or studying a foreign language or whatever we were doing before I started typing this.

Did the Rockies think the same thing in 2007, when they were six games behind in the wild-card race on Sept. 1? They won 14 of their last 15 regular-season games and made it to the World Series.

The ChiSox should bank on doing that, then. Especially since their longest winning streak this season has been seven games, which was back in June, and five of which were over the Indians and Royals. They then lost two in a row to the Royals. They haven't been more than 5 games over .500 all year. They are scrumptionsly mediocre. But let's go ahead and bank on them ripping off 18 in a row and making the playoffs!

I remember reading, in a like Ripley's Believe It Or Not! book I had when I was a kid, that a woman was once sucked out of a commercial airplane at 20,000 feet and fell to the ground and landed in some hay or something and lived. This would not make me feel awesome about my chances, were I ever sucked out of a commercial airliner at 20,000 feet. If I were sucked out of a commercial airliner at 20,000 feet, I would think: "Man oh man, Ken, are you fucked."

Or how about the 1969 Mets, who trailed the Cubs by 8 1/2 games in mid-August and, well, you know what happened? Or the 1935 Cubs, who went 23-1 after Aug. 31 to win the National League pennant?

You're just giving up? What about that thing that happened 40 years ago? Or that other thing that happened 74 years ago! Why aren't you using those three instances from the last 75 years as a baseline for what you should expect to happen?! I don't understand why you are not doing that!!!!!!

I am as always sir your most humble servant etc.,

Rick Morrissey

The Trib

Or any of the other teams that have done the unthinkable by going on a September run to the playoffs?

And why are you not using other, vaguely-referenced hypothetical examples that may or may not have happened?! You are being so stubborn, The White Sox!

I remain sir your most devoted friend and companion etc.,

Rick Morrissey

The Trib

But GM Ken Williams has looked at his team and started passing out toe tags. After sending a memo to the other teams listing the players he was willing to trade, he sent Jim Thome to the Dodgers for a 26-year-old Class A infielder. Can you imagine that? A guy with 23 home runs and 74 runs batted in, and you get next to nothing in return.

Yeah, so, this was not one of Kenny's finest deals. They sent Thome and cash to the Dodgers for Justin Fuller, who is 26 and going nowhere fast. A little hard to explain, especially since I imagine Thome would have gotten them compensation if they'd offered arb. Maybe they didn't want to, because he made $13m this year and is 82 years old. Whatever. The point, again, is that the ChiSox went 1-9 in the ten games leading up to September 1. So they got rid of a veteran who cleared waivers. Big deal.

The Sox have six games remaining against Detroit, which is in first place in the American League Central. Trading Thome, as well as dangling Jermaine Dye and Scott Linebrink, is capitulation. It's surrender. It's telling everyone — players, fans, innocent bystanders — that it's over.

No it's not. Everyone on every team is "dangled" around August. It just makes sense. If the Rays thought that Jermaine Dye was the answer to their postseason push and decided he was worth David Price or something, it would be stupid not to have dangled Jermaine Dye. (Also, it is, probably, over, for the ChiSox. Just a reminder.)

Maybe it is.

It is.

But we never will know if it truly was,

It is.

because the season didn't have a chance to play itself out.

Get ready for some misplaced anger, kids.

Is there a stats-freak formula that suggests when to shut down a season? Is a six-game deficit on Aug. 31 similar to a bad OPS, OBP or Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da?

I would like to make a suggestion to all angry, stat-ignorant sportswriters out there: when you do the thing where you cite real stats and then make up a goofy-sounding joke stat to try to make fun of sabermetrics, don't use OPS and OBP. They're pretty fucking simple to understand, and also pretty mainstream at this point, but you all choose them as your "these crazy stats are so weird!" set-ups for your awesome joke stats, and so you all end up with similar-sounding jokes. There are way goofier-sounding stats out there, if you want them. xFIP is pretty silly-sounding. Use xFIP.

Another suggestion I might make to all angry, stat-ignorant sportswriters out there would be: learn some stuff about stats.

If I have this straight, the Sox acquired Jake Peavy and Alex Rios for a playoff run, and then when things didn't go well, the club ran with its tail between its legs.

Or, to put it another way: the club thought it had a chance to compete in a weak division, then they went 1-9 over ten games leading up to September 1, and rationally changed their minds. (The wisdom of trading for Alex Rios and his .296 OBP and his insane contract, and Peavy and his bum arm, is another matter entirely.) Then they traded two expensive guys who are free agents at the end of the year, one of whom was absolutely killing the team, and each of whom was so old they were both members of the miracle Cubs of 1935.

Does that about sum it up?

Yes. Yes, it does.

And while we're asking questions, since when did Trader Kenny become Traitor Kenny?

Well done.

What is it that baseball people like to say? That a 162-game season is a marathon, not a sprint? Well, the Sox just quit at the 20-mile mark.

Because they were well behind the pace-setters, and have another marathon to run next year. And also, they didn't quit. They traded two guys whose next birthdays will be announced by Willard Scott on The Today Show.

Williams wants to go younger. Understandable. But with a month left in the season, he sees no way the Sox are going to make a run for a division title? What an

— accurate assessment of his team's chances? — appropriate summary of the situation? — appetizing apple pie a la mode?

awful reflection on the organization.

Oh. I was way off.

Give Williams this: He got the Rockies to give him a Triple-A pitcher for the fast-fading Jose Contreras.

You know who that AAA pitcher is? 24 year-old Brandon Hynick, who had a 3:1 K/BB ratio at AA last year and who just threw a 7-inning perfect game at AAA. Jose Contreras was a 131 year-old pitcher making $10m a year, sporting a 5.42 ERA. If Kenny Williams had gotten the Rockies to give him a 50-count box of legal-sized envelopes for Jose Contreras, he could have rightly demanded and been given a 4-year extension. (And yes, I know Contreras pitched well in his debut for the Rockies. But it's the NL West, for God's sake. There are Babe Ruth League pitchers who can shut down the teams in the NL West.)

You can look at Monday's maneuverings as an indication that Peavy's arm problems are a lot worse than the Sox are letting on. Or you can look at it that the Sox are wringing their hands over how much they will be paying Rios and Peavy.

Those both make sense. Why did you write this article?

As much as his power numbers will be missed, Thome will be missed as a person even more. Everyone in the Sox clubhouse will tell you how hard he works to get ready for games. They will talk about the example the 39-year-old sets for younger players. But mostly they'll talk about how nice he is.

Is he $11m in salary as a 40 year-old nice? Because if you don't trade him and offer him arb and he takes it, that's what you're going to pay him next year, and if you don't offer him arb he's just going to walk, and you don't even get a 26 year-old A-ball player in return. He'd have to be pretty effing nice to be worth $11m as a 40 year-old DH. He'd have to be like "Kenneth the Page" nice.

If it were just Thome being dealt and if Williams had gotten something, anything for him, this might not be such a big deal. But the idea that Williams was ready to trade other veterans is. Taken as a whole, it's a dark day.

It's not "a dark day." The day Kennedy was shot was "a dark day." The day Jose Contreras was traded to the Rockies was 79 and mostly sunny, with maybe some very light mist in the early evening, just enough to cool things off in a pleasant way.

And as for the others that Kenny was "ready to trade," well, he didn't, because he didn't get a good enough deal. The Red Sox traded Nomar at the deadline in 2004 and won the World Series. Every thinking GM should be ready to trade any player at any moment, if the deal is right.

You can blame it on the Metrodome if you want. The Sox get inside that gray ghost and crawl into a hole. Maybe Williams saw only doom and gloom from that vantage point. But there might have been some light ahead if he had just looked for it.

Or if he had just gotten less stubborn and thought about the 1935 Cubs, which: why don't more GMs think constantly about the 1935 Cubs?!?!?!?!?

Unfortunately, GM Kenny Williams can't shed the terrible contracts he took on at the last trading deadline. Earlier this season he took on Alex Rios' five-year, $61 million deal from the Blue Jays. (Rios is currently hitting .192 for the Sox.) This was shortly after trading for a pitcher who was already on the disabled list and has yet to throw a single inning in Chicago. Since Williams traded Jim Thome to the Dodgers on Monday, I guess Jake Peavy can take his time with that rehab thing.

I suppose it is still possible that Chicago could rally and win the AL Central (since no one else seems to want to win it), but the Thome trade is a clear signal to fans that they should give up that dream. The Dodgers on the other hand,also added former White Sock(?) and Diamondback pitcher Jon Garland, so they are clearly going all in on 2009.

A team doing everything possible to win. I wonder what that feels like.

The Sox Surrender, Trade Both Jim Thome and Jose Contreras [Foul Balls]
What, Exactly, Are The White Sox Doing? [Rumors and Rants]

And that would be the acquisition of Alex Rios, whom the Blue Jays had wisely discarded after realizing they were paying $10 million a year for a knockoff Roberto Kelly and who now takes his .317 OBP into Kenny Williams' crowded outfield in Chicago. As Baseball Prospectus' Christina Kahrl wrote before the waiver claim had gone through, "[T]he horror of claiming Alex Rios is that you might end up getting him." Here's how Williams saw it:

"Yeah, we're out on a limb a little bit with the last two acquisitions, but what we've seen in recent games at home is our fans are starting to wrap their arms around this team," Williams said.

Not long after completing the deal on Monday, Williams, in Seattle with his team, made his way to Safeco Field and went skipping across a street away from a crosswalk. The fuzz nabbed him, and the two had the following hardboiled exchange:

Williams tried to tell the officer people in Chicago cross streets anywhere. He said the officer told him, not in Seattle.

Williams was given a $56 ticket around which to wrap his arms. Ozzie Guillen has vowed to retaliate.

White Sox acquire Rios from Toronto [ESPN]
White Sox GM Kenny Williams gets jaywalking ticket in Seattle [Seattle Times]

Hard Cell: U.S. Cellular Field is the hideous ransom paid to the White Sox after they spent the late 1980s threatening to hie themselves to St. Petersburg. This was deemed a fate too awful to imagine — the franchise had been in Chicago since 1901, after all — even though it's in the natural order of things for cranky 80-year-old nuisances to slink off to some godforsaken spot in South Florida where they can be safely ignored. In any event, the taxpayers gave the White Sox their lame Royals Stadium ripoff, the last ballpark built before the retro craze and certainly the last time anyone thought the Royals a franchise worth imitating. In fairness, the stadium did feature several design innovations, chief among them the decision to place the farthest reaches of the upper decks somewhere near Aurora. No one much liked the place, which is why it has been in a constant state of self-mutilation from the moment the Sox snipped the ribbon. A vast five-stage overhaul began in 2001, when the stadium was 10 — 10 — years old. The White Sox: baseball's cutters.

Shining Armour: In 1989, as the White Sox mulled various stadium proposals, a Chicago architect named Philip Bess drew up plans for a ballpark in the spirit of what he called, in his book City Baseball Magic, "pragmatic idealism." The design of Armour Field was "governed by a concern that it be a genuinely urban building, constrained by its block, with an architectural presence, scale, and monumentality befitting its status as a public building," a true neighborhood ballpark. It was a wonderful proposal and looks even better today, after two decades of downtown baseball nostalgia palaces. "Camden Yards, Jacobs Field, and Pac-Bell are not 'neighborhood ballparks,' but rather 'downtown ballparks,'" he told one interviewer. "Many people in our culture have stopped thinking of cities as good and desirable places where people live as well as work, shop, and play. Instead, they think of cities as 'entertainment zones,' and of stadiums as 'anchors' for downtown entertainment zones. The goal has been to replace the tax revenues lost by the flight of middle class families from cities, to use public dollars to finance new ballparks in an effort to keep municipal services and governments afloat. But this seems to me a short-sighted solution. Better to make cities themselves livable again; and well designed smaller-scaled neighborhood ballparks can be a legitimate part of that strategy, and make money for team owners at the same time."

What happened next was everything Bess had sought to avoid. New Comiskey was thrown up in 1991, a suburban stadium dropped into an urban setting, uprooting 250 households, disrupting the street system, turning the old Comiskey Park into a parking lot and more or less gutting the old neighborhood of Armour Square. It's not clear if the White Sox ever seriously considered Bess' proposal. My guess is Jerry Reinsdorf took one look at a rendering and laughed himself out onto 35th Street. Bess never really had a chance, anyway. As Charles C. Euchner has written, the architect's proposal would've removed the buffer zone — a park — between black Armour Square and white Bridgeport, a politically influential neighborhood that has been home to five Chicago mayors, including the current one, Richard M. Daley. The Bridgeporters never would have allowed it, and so the ballpark that sprang up across from old Comiskey was, in many ways, a tribute to the characteristics of its surroundings: small-minded, hostile and all about clout. That, in Chicago, is a true neighborhood park.

The view from the stands (everything sic'd): "'The Joan' (labeled by a few after the horrendous Joan Cusack ad campaign put together by US Cellular in 2004) features a lower section, box seating and a top tier which has rarely ever been filled. About two months ago I watched as a young man fingered his girlfriend in the left field seats. Both were wearing jean shorts. Classy. Worst physical issue with the park: The top tier was designed by the same deity who created Mt. Everest. As you climb the staircase into the stratosphere just keep your eyes on the prize ahead of you, otherwise you might start to feel nauseous. Which reminds me of this story about the steepness of the park ... Rangers V White Sox 2005: Garland is pitching for his life while a girl who just turned 21 is getting puh-lastered four rows behind me. Her screeching is almost unbearable but when the game is finished one man was brave enough to give her a high five only to deke her out at the last second, causing her to fall over thee rows of chairs and come crashing into our backs. The end result was a boobie prize. Her tit popped out and she left the stadium in tears. I masturbated for days. Oh yes, did I mention the jean shorts? If you ask nicely I will email you my set of jean shorts around US Cellular Field. Believe me ... you're going to want these." (Jim O.)

"It's the 2007 season, I'm a White Sox season ticket holder in the upper deck. It's a Sunday night game for ESPN, 3rd inning or so, and we let some people returning to their seats pass by our group. One of the passing fans accidentally dribbles a couple drops of beer on the middle aged woman in the row in front of her. The woman turns around, and chucks an entire full cup of Miller Lite on me. I know it's Miller Lite because I could taste it, that's how much it was. Not knowing what happened, I assumed I spilled my own on myself (notice the theme here...drinking). This woman the whole game is hammering down beers as if Prohibition goes into effect the next day. At the end of the game, the woman leaves her email address on her ticket and mentions she is sorry for throwing a beer at me and I should email her for her tickets to a game later in the season. The email address ended in '@uchicago.edu'. Noticing she is far too old to be a student at The University of Chicago, I researched the name and address via Google to see if she was faculty. Not only was she faculty, she was a dean of students. Only in Illinois would this bribe be acceptable, Blago would have been proud." (Mark M.)

"white sox fans know their baseball. and any good white sox fan knows that most of the fans are rarely intelligent enough to find their own seat. during a 2008 indians/sox game, my friend and i took our nosebleed seats behind first base. a mother and her two bratty kids were sitting around two rows behind me, and the young boy-i think-was screaming his head off like a little girl everytime something even somewhat interesting happened. finally, an annoyed couple in front of me got fed up. the boyfriend turns around and says, "hey kid, why don't you give that one a shot once your balls drop?" the mother looks as if she's just been shot. a random drunk, cut-off t-shirt-wearing redneck throws himself at the guy and my buddy and i are left to witness the aftermath. the sox got hammered and i stayed sober, staring at my ticket stub. how much did i pay to sit here again?" (Evan)

"It's 1991, a good year for the Sox, new stadium, exciting team. My dad gets field level seats down the 3rd base line. A foul ball comes our way and the guy in front of me catches it. Someone in a group of guys in the row behind us asks to see the ball because there is some sort of special insignia on it since it's the stadium's inaugural year. As soon as the ball is handed over, the guy behinds me throws it to his buddy standing in the aisle who promptly runs away with the ball. This obviously incites the gentleman who caught the ball in front of me and he starts swinging at the guy behind me. This fracas goes on with me in the middle for about a minute before my dad and security can break it up and escort the combatants away. Guess who got their ass kicked: ME, BECAUSE I'M SIX YEARS OLD. Stadium staff quickly whisk me into the bowels of stadium to apologize profusely and bandage up my bumps and bruises. I still think we could've parlayed the whole incident into something bigger and gotten free season tickets or a copy of Big Hurt Baseball for Super Nintendo, but all I got was a baseball and an ice cream, so it wasn't all bad." (Mark H.)

"As a Cubs fan I can honestly say I would rather drown in a cesspool of smelly, creepy Cardinals and Brewers fans than spend 3 hours around Southsiders. Everything is about the Cubs. Everything. Especially when 'it's not about the Cubs.' They are most insecure, vindictive, petty sports fans I've ever been around. And that's counting hockey fans." (Drew)

"As a life long Sox fan, I'd say the easiest way to describe the Cell experience is to compare with that other Chicago team. Wrigley is old and falling apart. The Cell is new and full of modern amenities and a growing forest of bronze statues. Wrigley always seems packed. The Cell always seems half empty. Attendance was awful before the World Series and while it's gotten better, you can almost always get tickets on the same day as a game you want to see. Though you will pay like you're going to see a top ten team instead of a team that's come in 1st in the division four times since the Cell opened. Wrigley sits near one of the main centers of the gay community in Chicago. The Cell sits near some fairly harsh neighborhoods. And the fans... At the Cell our drunks aren't content to sit and look pretty while texting on their Blackberries and talking on the phone like the drunks at Wrigley. No, our fans rush out and beat the crap out of a Kansas City Royals first base coach. Our fans attack a first base umpire. At least once a month it seems like some asshat is delaying a game by running out on the field. If the Steve Bartman incident had happened at the Cell, he would have been torn to pieces and his head put on a pike over the front gate. In general, the fans are a reflection of Ozzie Guillen - foul mouthed, abrasive and a bit nasty at times but uniquely Chicago. Of course the best part about going to a game at US Cellular Field (besides wondering if you might get to see someone stabbed in the crowd or attacked on the field)? Not having to listen to the biggest homer announcer in all of baseball." (Sarah P.)

"I love the White Sox, but there too many fucking statues in and around the joint. The statue depicting DeWayne Wise's catch during Buehrle's perfect game is already being molded in Hawk's basement." (DomChota)

"We've all heard stories about the Vertigo Seats..consider this- When the Bears were rebuilding Soldier's Field- the most logical thing was to have them play at 'Sox Park' during the construction year ( After all the tax payers did pay for this place, and its in Chicago ). What did the Bears do? They avoided Sox Park like the plague & they shipped the Bears 2.5 hours South to The University of Illinois for every 'Home' game. Nothing like that "home feel" when you are being shipped to the middle of Illinois on a Saturday!" (Neal J.)

"First off, Sox fans, it's U-S C-e-l-l-u-l-a-r F-i-e-l-d. Not 'Cominsky Park,' not 'Cominsky's Field.' Not even Comiskey Park like the old days, but at least I can put up with that. Southside "Chicaaaahgoins" do tend to add an 's' on everything, but mostly to grocery stores for some reason. Jewel becomes The Jewels. Meier becomes Meier's. Soldier Field becomes Soldier's Field, but I digress. There seems to be a rule that no one can attend a Sox game unless their name is Tony, Tina, Vinny, Pauly, Lisa, or Marie. It's like a god damn Soprano's episode 'over dere.' It's AWESOME people watching, though. Tons of wife beater tanks and quarts upon quarts of hair spray which reminds me of my 1987 8th grade Jr. High yearbook. Just don't light a match. Lot's of green Southside Irish pride Sox hats to go 'round and the attitude to go with it. US Cellular is filled with anyone who has ever started a sentence with, 'Like I says' and 'Know what I'm sayin.' (No I don't, because you haven't started anything nearly resembling a sentence yet) They pull up in their Trans-AMs ready to raise hell. The park itself is a train wreck. An improved train wreck, but still a train wreck. They really missed the mark, as The Cell was one of the first of the new breed of ballparks in the 90's. Builders had to do a re-work on the upper deck steps well after many games played, because too many of you clumbsy 'yooz guyz' fell on their craniums with two beers in their hands. (They really tripped over their gold rope chains, in reality)The upper deck was way too steep. Ingenious planning. I miss the old days of Disco Demolition already at the old park. If you want decent food and cold beer go right ahead. If you want to fear for your life because of the shiteous neighborhood and lack of security be my guest. Leave your suburb SUV's at home and pull up in your IROC-Z or Fiero and you'll be just fine. You may get a fist bump or a shout out by one of the guys from youtube's 'My New Haircut.' See also: William Ligue Jr." (Craig H.)

"For some background, this was my first time to Chicago and the South Side so I had no idea what to expect. As I'm walking off the L with a buddy who made the trip, the first thing you notice is the smell. It literally smells like garbage as you're walking in. Why? Who knows, but WTF. Secondly, is the bathroom fight that took place. The bathrooms in the outfield have the urinals and stalls in a row next to each other with very little room to form a line. This causes confusion about who's next in line as no one knows if there's on singular line or a line for each stall. So, this sketchy gentleman, complete with the ratty shirt and cocked hat takes a place in front of a couple of us but directly in one of the stalls. He also has a shit-eating grin on his face like he pulled a fast one. Anyway, a stall opens up and he goes for it. Well, the gentleman directly in front of me also makes a play for the stall. They soon put their arms in front of each other as they angle for the open stall. Shoving ensues, yelling is abound but shit-eater wins. Well, would'nt you know, the stall next to him opens up and his adversary takes it. For some reason, he decided to talk shit to the shit-eater about the stall which took all of 30 seconds out of his life. Shit eater then steps it up and starts using insults you'd expect from drunk trailer trash: bitch, pussy, cocksucker, etc. The other man doesnt let up either and returns the favor. Shit-eater then reaches over the wall and starts punching the guy as they both spill out of their respective stalls.. All of this in front of children using the urinals who were almost collateral damage. Thank God a security guard decided to take a leak or else an actual fight might have taken place." (Michael M.)

"I used to attend games at the Cell often. Then I found a job." (Ryan S.)

Photo via statlerhotel's Flickr account.

Next up: The Minnesota Twins' Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome. Got any horrible experiences to share? Send them to craggs@deadspin.com.

Twenty-seven batters retired, one cardiac arrest-inducing catch from DeWayne Wise, and one game of tonsil hockey with Ozzie Guillen later, Mark Buehrle had himself a perfect game. But how special is it?

Thanks to Wikipedia, we can list the rarest occurrences in baseball. Today's was the 18th perfect game in history, which means this has happened seven more times than a single runner has stolen home twice in a game, three more times than someone hitting four homers in a game, and two more times than someone has striking out four consecutive batters in a single inning.

For every perfect game, there have been about 12 no-hitters and 16 players to hit for the cycle. Since the last perfect game, Randy Johnson's in May 2004, we've had 7 no-nos and 25 cycles.

The rarest pitching feats, not counting one-time flukes like Johnny Vander Meer? Only twice have pitchers ever given up four homers in a row, retired the first 27 batters but failed to record a perfect game, and pitched 20 scoreless innings in a single game. That last one isn't happening any time soon.

Perhaps we should have known something special was going to happen when cagefighter Miguel Angel Torres threw out the first pitch:

I left a cup of lion's blood and some cobra venom for him (Buehrle) at the mound to throw a no-hitter," Torres said with a laugh. "That's how I roll. It was an awesome experience."

The day ended with Buehrle receiving a phone call from President Obama, and sportswriters around America finally being able to spell his name without looking it up.

For the Rays, there's no shame in being on the losing end of one of these. They got to see a little history, and B.J. Upton somehow got named his team's top batter.

And while Buehrle might have been perfect, ESPN Chicago's spellchecker certainly wasn't (H/T: reader Ben)

Buehrle Joins MLB Elite With Perfect Game [MLB]
List Of Major League Baseball Single-Game Records [Wikipedia]
Is Torres The White Sox Good Luck Charm? [WEC]
Buehrle Pitch Perfect, Gets Call From First Fan [Chicago Breaking News Center]

At 24 years old and coming off the best season off his young career, Parque tore the labrum in his throwing shoulder and never recovered. After two years of fruitless therapy and desperate to get his fastball back, he ordered some human growth hormone (yes, he's in the Mitchell Report), took a couple of injections, and then gave up. He retired in 2003, pitching only 70 innings in his final three seasons.

Apparently, the torment of those dark days have been eating away at him ever since. He painstakingly tries to explain himself. He had kids to feed! He was so young! He's just a man! You know what? We get it, Jim. You were desperate to rebuild your career and, yes, almost anyone of us would have done the same. No one is mad at you, buddy.

But let's say for a moment that Parque hadn't freaked out and stopped taking the drug. What if he had continued using HGH and it made him a serviceable pitcher for five more years or so? He makes a couple million dollars, his family is more financially stable, the White Sox get a fourth starter, and no one is the wiser. I know the "steroids = cheating" crowd won't appreciate this, but ... so what if he did?

Here's Jim own words about it:

HGH was not banned by Major League Baseball when I ordered it. It was controversial and unethical, but it was not banned.

[...]

I had done just enough research to know that what I was about to do had huge risks. Because I did not obtain the drugsfrom a lab, they could be tainted or entirely different than what I ordered. I was uncomfortable, but I injected the substance about six times. It immediately made me sleep deeper. My skin became baby-soft, and I could feel my workouts improving. It never gave me more strength or bulked me up, but it provided quicker recoveries. I began to throw harder because my shoulder felt no pain. I was able to withstand more throwing, creating a work environment that I had not experienced in two years.

So basically ... he took a drug and it made him feel better. He suffered an injury and this helped him get over it. What is wrong with that? How is that any worse than a player who takes aspirin for a headache or vicodin for a sore back or a shot of anesthetic to numb a foot injury or having a surgeon temporarily alter your peroneus brevis tendon so that you can become an American hero? Aren't those things just as "performance enhancing" (maybe more so) as Parque's baby soft skin? All convincing explanations accepted below, but you'll have to work pretty hard to invent one.

It's true that we don't know a lot about HGH and its effects on the body, but every drug that's ever been manufactured started out that way. There's little evidence that it actually makes you bigger or stronger and it doesn't add any drop to your curveball. Maybe if athletes were allowed to use it, supervised correctly, we might learn what it can really do. And maybe more pitchers like Parque wouldn't have to retire at age 27.

Ex-Sox pitcher Jim Parque confesses: Why I juiced [Sun-Times]

It's not like Beckham struts to the plate to "Enter Sandman" or "Hell's Bells," like the dominant closers of the era, or even to a five-second clip from some flavor-of-the-week rap. Beckham's choice: "Your Love," by The Outfield. You know the one:

"Josie's on a vacation far away
Come around and talk it over
So many things that I wanna say
You know I like my girls a little bit older
I just wanna use your love tonight
I don't wanna lose your love tonight"

Try getting it out of your head. I dare you. It's impossible.

Just ask other major leaguers. Kelly Johnson, on the Braves, recently switched to The Outfield after earning a blessing from Beckham, who, apparently, owns the MLB rights to the song. (If song-granting permission is anything like the art of swapping jersey numbers, Beckham could have earned some serious swag from Johnson. Like Outfield concert tickets, or something.) Rumor has it Eric Byrnes also uses "Your Love," but he never talked with Rabbi Beckham, who assured reporters that "he was going to investigate."

With such a heinous crime unsolved, there's only one thing to do: I-Team, assemble!

Beckham Starts A Trend [Sox Drawer]
Braves Player Steals Our Savior's Entrance Music [Tremendous Upside Potential]
UGA's Beckham thriving in big league moment [AJC]

Few moments in sports history were as truly stunning as the sight fans saw on September 19, 2002, when two shirtless buffoons charged onto the field during a Chicago-Kansas City game and began pummeling the Royals' 54-year-old first base coach Tom Gamboa. It turned out to be a father and son team—William Ligue Jr. and his loyal 15-year-old boy—who were hauled off, surly and unrepentant, into baseball history. And also jail.

Now surely a brush with the law at such a young age—plus the worldwide public embarrassment—would have scared the 15-year-old youngster straight. Surely he wouldn't want to end up like his troubled, drug-addled father? Then again ....

The boy—who I assume is William The III—is now 22 and looking at his MySpace (or course) page it doesn't take long to see that starting a brawl at a baseball game is the crowing achievement of his short life. (After "anticipatin" the birth of his "shorty.") One of the pictures in his album is a screen shot of the incident with the caption: "ME AND DAD FUCKIN UP THA COACH FA THA KANSAS CITY ROYALS." Charming.

The rest sort of speaks for itself, but it's always amusing to see white boys make liberal use the word "nigga" as they rap about all the cash money they don't actually possess. Oh, did I mention he has his own "record label." I'm not sure I've heard any of these tracks on BET, but they show a lot of promise. If only there was more "green" to be made in hooliganism.

Oh, in case you're wondering ... Dad and the White Sox are still in the picture, although his bling suggests a certain confusion about the makeup of the AL Central. Still, it warms the heart to think that someday soon three generations of tattooed goons can go to the ballpark together and mug a third-base coach.

ITS JUST ONE OF THOSE DAYS - 22 - Male - Chi Town, Illinois [MySpace]

July 13, 1979
Anti-Disco Promotion Forces White Sox To Forfeit

The White Sox and Tigers had a little trouble completing their doubleheader last night, since ... you know ... Comiskey Park was burned to the ground by rioting, disco-hating fans. You've done it again, Bill Veeck!

Last night was something called "Disco Demolition Night" in Chicago. A local radio station cooked up the promotion and fans were encouraged to bring their old disco records to the park so that they could be collected and destroyed on the field. With a bomb. They literally blew up the records in the middle of the outfield between games while fans changed "Disco Sucks." Hard to believe that something like that could go haywire. It's now officially the best idea since 10-Cent Beer Night.

So after the demolition, fans decided to storm the field and start their own fires. And tear up the grass. And steal home plate. And take equipment from the dugouts. And basically turn Comiskey into the streets of Tehran. I think Harry Carey was mugged at one point. The good news is that anyone who brought a disco record with them got into the park for a dollar so it was probably the biggest sellout at the old dump since the Early Wynn days. Perfect weather for rioting! (The fans also figured out that 45s make perfect frisbees, much to the chagrin of players who were pelted with them.)

Eventually, the Chicago police were called in to restore order, 1968 style, and most of the drunks were swept off the field, but what was left of the grass was so trashed that the umpires—with a little prodding from Sparky Anderson—called the second game off. The White Sox lost by forfeit. Fucking hippies.

Why is everyone they so down on disco anyway? I heard that Village People song played at a game the other day—the one about going to the gym?—and everyone was getting up and doing a little dance to it. Even the kids! I think that's a fun little diversion that sports fans will never find annoying or played out.

Disco Demoliton: 30 years after Comiskey Park went up in polyester-fueled flames [Sports Pros(e)]
White Sox' ‘Disco Demolition' Promotion Still Echoes in Baseball Lore [NY Times]

Thousands of albums by the Bee Gees and ... well, the Bee Gees, were put into a bin and were carefully, thoughtfully, bombed into a cloud of vinyl confetti. The masses, not satisfied with the damage done, decided to dance the night away in the outfield.

Many say the embarrassing event, which led to the White Sox forfeiting the second game, helped truly end disco in America.

So here we are, in 2009. We had an entire decade of terrible new habits. Let's suppose — I know, this is already more thinking than normally requisitioned on a Sunday — we had the chance to destroy some terrible tangible objects that represented bad ideals. Here are some candidates and their rationales:

• Newspapers (the antithesis of innovation)
• Twilight novels (which would be the first book-burning event intelligent people would endorse)
• Axe body spray (although I think setting that abomination on fire would probably cause a biohazard)
• Taco Bell food (this one's convenient, because it's the food that explodes on its own)

Those are all fine choices, but if we really need to burn something to end the decade, let it be Crocs. It hasn't been a fantastic decade for many, but if society can collectively rise up and denounce horrible footwear, then perhaps it can give the rest of us hope for a better tomorrow.

Ozzie Guillen explained to reporters that Colon is notoriously difficult to track down thanks to a phalanx of cousins and the unreliability of the Dominican phone system. So that explains why no one was really that concerned when he didn't check in with the organization before his scheduled rehab start tonight in Charlotte, North Carolina. But Guillen also had a different theory about Bartolo's radio silence.

"I worry about Colon because Colon was a big-time Michael Jackson fan," Guillen said. "He might [watch] the TV and cry all day long. Maybe he is in L.A. at his funeral, because I can't find him. When he gets to Charlotte, Oney (Guillen's son) will call me to say he's there.

"Nobody knows how big of a Jackson fan Colon was. I'm serious. He might be depressed a little bit."

Look, we all loved "Wanna Be Startin' Something", but don't you think the Gloved One would want you to get on with your life? Ok, he'd probably want you to put on a funny hat and go to a roller coaster park or something, but let's try to keep things professional.

Bartolo Colon still slated to start minor-league rehab Thursday night [Chicago Tribune]

Colon, is currently on the DL with knee trouble, but was scheduled to have a rehab start in Charlotte, North Carolina, tomorrow. There's just one snag—no one knows where he is.

"I know where he is supposed to be right now. He's supposed to be in [Triple-A] Charlotte, preparing to start Thursday," White Sox general manager Ken Williams said Tuesday. "Efforts to contact his agent have been successful. Their efforts to contact their client have not been so successful."

If Colon never arrives?

"Somebody will take the mound," Williams said. "This train is going to keep rolling."

Ok, that's ... odd. So many questions? How do you lose a major league pitcher? Have they checked the ground in front of the dugout? And should we concerned at this point? Williams doesn't seem too worried, but that was yesterday. When does he become an actual missing person? Am I going to regret making that fat guy joke? (I think I already kinda do. It was pretty hacky.)

Whereabouts unknown? Bartolo Colon scheduled to start for Charlotte Thursday [Chicago Tribune]

The entire White Sox-Cubs series this weekend was ripe for wackiness since baseball's most dysfunctional "rivalry." When Lou Pinella wasn't screaming at his own players he was taking swipes at the South Siders, helpfully pointing out that attendance at U.S. Cellular Field takes a significant jump whenever the Cubbies take the bus downtown. Over 20,000 more fans showed up than when the Dodgers were visiting the previous weekend. Fortunately, the only man who can go toe-to-toe with Lou's crazy was ready with a response:

"Because our fans are not stupid like Cubs fans," Guillen said. "They know we're [expletive]."

Guillen said Cubs fans will watch any game at Wrigley Field because "Wrigley Field is just a bar."

Maybe Ozzie Guillen isn't crazy, because that is exactly true! But what do White Sox fans know about their team's state of being? Sure, "shit" is the obvious answer, but could it be something else? Clowns? Tax cheats? Cheese-lovers?

The one thing both managers agree on? Smoking dope ain't so bad.

Ozzie Guillen: 'Our fans are not stupid like Cubs fans' [Chicago Tribune]
Perfect time for Cubs to waive bye-bye to Carlos Zambrano [Phil Rogers]

Players don't usually like to discuss the in-and-outs of payback pitches. When such incidents do happen, pitchers usually limit their comments to the usual "it is what it is" or "I prefer to let my play do the talking." But when asked about a throw in Saturday's game against the Rangers that ended up behind the batter, Chicago's Bobby Jenks did not mince words:

"Yeah, I wanted to go in and send a message, and I think that message was sent," Jenks said after he had finished up his seventh save in as many opportunities. "Basically, I was saying, 'I'm sick of seeing our guys get hit and hurt and almost get taken out of the game.' I threw it with intention."

Well, that certainly makes Bob Watson's job a lot easier. By the way, Jenks decided to send his important message in the ninth inning of a one-run game, which is always a good time to get chippy.

"With a one-run lead, I didn't want to put anyone on base. I just wanted to say, 'Hey, we can play that game, too.' Other than that, the important thing was getting him out after that pitch."

In other words, if it had been a three- or four-run game, he absolutely would have plunked him.

Jenks threw inside to 'send a message' [MLB]