BobDylan

QUOTE(witesoxfan @ Oct 31, 2005 -> 12:38 AM) He's great in the clubhouse. I don't see how anyone on this message board could say that without being a player or part of the organization. How could you or any of us possibly know? By quotes from other players? There are plenty of players that can fill his shoes, PLENTY. Whether they are available or not is another question. P.S. Chemistry can be severely overrated. Look at all the crazy teams that have won championships in any sport.

QUOTE(aboz56 @ Oct 30, 2005 -> 05:24 PM) Pure comedy here folks. Yea, Joe Crede's a real bonafied superstar. The type you build a team around. Give me a break. People are talking as if he's irreplaceable at this point.

I still don't want Joe Crede. 6 more months of crappy hitting doesn't thrill me. He had a great post-season, but he still has never proved to anyone that he can sustain it for an entire year. That combined with pretty much every girl I know thinking he is hot gets old very, very quick. I know I'm wrong on this right now, but I'm going to continue thinking the White Sox can get better production from 3B until Crede proves his worth for six months.

That seems about right.

I have a sticker on the back and had two giant logos on the doors until the guy who repaired my car stole them.

QUOTE(Antonio Osuna @ Oct 24, 2005 -> 04:48 PM) According to a certain article that appeared in the Chicago Tribune before the ALDS, the elementary school near the Cell has Jerry Manual painted on the wall of their library saying "I see greatness in you". They'd like to see him back. Personally, I gotta disagree with them on that one. He signed a baseball of mine with, "God sees greatness in you." Needless to say, the autograph faded off the baseball.

QUOTE(hi8is @ Oct 22, 2005 -> 03:26 PM) slowst 3 hours ever What the f***?

This is only the introduction to a story I'm writing, but I posted it because I feel there are some posters here that can relate. My name is Roger. I've been a White Sox fan for as long as I can remember. It has brought me and my father close together. It has been the cherry to all my friendships. And even though the twenty five men playing in the World Series this year don't owe any respects to the fact that their franchise hasn't been to the World Series since 1959, and hasn't won the World Series since 1917, simply being there means a little more then just playing a baseball game. In the year 2000, I attended game two of the American League Division Series, an offensive juggernaut of a team that wasn't very good to speak the truth. Comiskey Park was filled to the brim, exploding of hope and dreams that maybe this was the year. But when the ballgame ended, the White Sox lost and though they had one more game to lose, the dreams were over. I sat somewhere in the upper deck, pants past my ankles, a jacket covering my hands and a bright red nose from a ridiculous October cold. I can remember when the final out was recorded, the crowd rose from their seats and a collective sound swooped through the stadium, "Whoooosh!" I'm not really sure anyone really meant to make any sound, not with their mouths or anything, but that was the energy of forty thousand people exiting into the air. It gave me chills, and I'm still a young person. Maybe you'll know what I mean later. I looked at the old man sitting about two rows in front of me get up from his seat, grabbing his seat cushion and tucking it under his brittle old arm; his eyes were filled with tears. He must've been at least seventy five years old. Born thirteen years after his team last won the championship, old enough to have seen them in only one World Series. They say it's just a game, but baseball isn't like any other game I know of. It's a sport that brings people together, it's a game that got a country through a war. It's the game that has brought me to love my father. Stephen King once wrote, "Baseball is the only game God approves of." It's not just a silly game, it's a way of life, the bearing to a fruitfulness that can't be had in any other way. That old man was trying to gain a sense of completion, he's an older version of myself. He lasted seventy five years only to see the 1959 White Sox lose in six games to the Los Angeles Dodgers. Forty six years later, if he's still alive after 2000, he has another chance. His life can be brought to a rainbow that he perhaps couldn't imagine, a form that only a simple bat and baseball can bring fourth; maybe an evocative of his youth, the times of insignificance and eternity. He'd be somewhere around eighty if his old heart was still ticking, thinking of names like Luis Apparacio, Minnie Minoso, Jimmie Dykes, Al Lopez, Nellie Fox, and Luke Appling. I don't remember the year I went to my first baseball game. It was sometime back in the 80's when Old Comiskey Park was still around. I was so young I couldn't tell the difference between the two teams that I cheered for both of them, clapping my young hands for each hit, each run and each strikeout. I like to think of that game as the single greatest moment of my life. My dad buying me Coke's and nacho's and hot dogs. A foam finger on my hand, a tiny little White Sox cap on my head, covering a shaved and naive blonde head. We walked into the park together, him holding my hand as I looked up at numbers marking sections, people turning corners in every direction, beer vendors selling beer, and men yelling, "Programs! Get your programs!" Years later I found myself sitting on various couches with my father growing up and watching names like Bo Jackson, Jack McDowell, Carlton Fisk, Ozzie Guillen and Robin Ventura. Him lying down with a beer sitting on the coffee table, myself clutched in my arms living and dying with every out, regardless of what chances the team had at winning a pennant. And each out was recorded, every run was scored, every home run was sparkling. As I've grown a little older with each minute, the games seem more like a time stamp on my life rather then something I simply care about. It’s a reminder to keep living. Maybe next year. I've lived a life of depression and misery. I have thrown away more friendships then I've held on to. I sometimes can't tell the difference between right and wrong, seeing when a person loves me and when they don't. I've made people who love me, hate me. I've thought about suicide until the fear of death has become nauseating. My stomach has crumbled in my throat and my eyes have been the visual of such thought most people do not know how to imagine. I cried when the White Sox won the pennant this year. I was reminded of all the great times I've had with my father and my friends, the lasting impact people have had on me because of a simple game. I even managed to think about all the people I threw out of my life, whether I wanted to or not. And I cried. Tears puddled my eyes and fell onto my face, onto my shirt, onto my misery. It felt that seconds of depression were escaping and all the hardships I have given myself seemed to be worthless just for a small fragment of time. The White Sox won the pennant. I can't tell you that the White Sox are going to win the World Series and that old man will see a dream fulfilled, but I can always remind myself of the time I saw the White Sox win the pennant, and the time I thought about them winning it all.

QUOTE(SnB @ Oct 18, 2005 -> 11:33 AM) i had a 2 minute wait for game 1 at 12:01.....nothing. I had a 1 minute wait for game 2. Nothing.

Yea, every phone by order is busy.

QUOTE(LoFiStew @ Oct 17, 2005 -> 10:47 PM) I've been lurking here since April, but this my first post. (Don't worry, I'm no bandwagon fan. I've been a fan of the Sox since the days of Wilbur Wood, Dick Allen and Jorge Orta. I'm just shy.) I had a brainstorm. My idea is to have Hawk and DJ do their thing announcing the the World Series just like they were covering the game as usual. Then, when MLB releases the inevitable DVD box set of the Series, they could use Hawk-and-DJ's play-by-play as an alternate audio track. That's the one thing I miss about the playoffs. You get used to your TV guys all season and then the playoffs start and you have to listen to clueless national announcers. I would have loved to hear Harrelson and Jackson call these playoff games. Four games away. Unreal. I never thought I'd see this opportunity for the White Sox. Let's close the deal. I don't know if they'd want to do it. They work a long season. This is their off-time to simply enjoy it. But I love the idea and would like to see it.

It is happening far too fast.

QUOTE(Greg The Bull Luzinski @ Oct 12, 2005 -> 05:31 PM) Boy I am glad redandwhite deleted this message for the rest of us. If we stick around, maybe he will start making people stand in the corner. It is so mice to ruin your own post for everybody just because you don't like one poster. I second that opinion.

QUOTE(Mercy! @ Oct 9, 2005 -> 07:54 PM) My goodness! Ironic user name, or what? Different era, different man.

This movie looks like a perfect example why a good screenwriter is more important than a good director (Obviously a good director that writes his own good screenplays is gold). Allan Ball created what was American Beauty. Whoever created Jarhead is no Allan Ball, nor somebody that can go beyond a 1D action/war flick. I have little interest in seeing people talk about old war cliches or screaming with machine guns shooting things. I've seen it all before, and I don't want to see Jamie Foxx or Donnie Darko do it again.

That is annoying. Freedom of speech is wonderful and all that jazz, but we all know there are limits...and I think this should be one of the limitations. Opinions should not be shoved down my throat; that's exactly what this bull s*** is doing. Take the signs down, they change nothing anywhere.

One of them is not to tell people my superstitions. As much of a contradiction that may have been.

Ticketmaster recently changed my seat location for game 6. I'm not happy.

QUOTE(Reddy @ Oct 8, 2005 -> 01:01 PM) the white sox are becoming the equivilent of an underground band selling out *cough* good charlotte *cough* we need to keep that from happening! Good Charlotte is hardly an underground band.

QUOTE(greasywheels121 @ Oct 4, 2005 -> 12:15 PM) IIRC, we'd host Games 1, 2, 6, and 7. Game Matchup Day Date Time TV Gm 1 TBA vs. TBA Tue Oct. 11 8:00 pm FOX Gm 2 TBA vs. TBA Wed Oct. 12 TBA FOX Gm 3 TBA vs. TBA Fri Oct. 14 8:00 pm FOX Gm 4 TBA vs. TBA Sat Oct. 15 7:30 pm FOX Gm 5* TBA vs. TBA Sun Oct. 16 4:00 pm FOX Gm 6* TBA vs. TBA Tue Oct. 18 8:00 pm FOX Gm 7* TBA vs. TBA Wed Oct. 19 8:00 pm FOX * - if necessary I assume those times are ET?

I got ALCS tickets, and as far as I know so far...my credit card has not been rejected. HOWEVER, I was not able at any point in time to access Ticketmaster.com. Not at Noon, not at anytime after. I ordered mine by automated phone...but not by calling the Chicago office. I simply called Ticketmasters around the nation the day before to see who was selling ALCS tickets and after finding which ones did, I called the two (I had two phones) I figured would be the least busy. Well, I called Minneapolis and was able to land myself tickets to game 1 and 6...granted upper deck seats. So when World Series tickets go on sale, I advise people to do what I did, while trying to access Ticketmaster.com.

I think it comes down to this: Make it an 8-2 record and The White Sox are flat out a better team. They struggled down the stretch, but when the going got tough, the White Sox won. They have a ton of heart, a ton of pitching and a manager that will keep them loose. I know it's crazy haven't won since 1917...but I think the White Sox have a real shot. A REAL shot.

QUOTE(3E8 @ Sep 25, 2005 -> 12:18 AM) They both suck in the field. Come again? Dye sucks in the field? Uh...

Mine is working, though the picture is in widescreen.

My channel showed life for a few seconds. It was fuzzy and then a bunch of s*** came on the screen, "Channel 0 not avaliable." and stuff...then it went back to No Signal.