DAMMIT, ALL I WANT TO DO IS RELAX

The fact that the White Sox just dropped a nuke on Boston with a 14-2 win—and that I got upset about it—just goes to prove that, while none of my teams are in contention this year, I care.

There's nothing more frustrating than listening to an important game and having no clue who anybody is on the enemy team. Red Sox players are familiar—their October 2004 sunshine notwithstanding—I've actually watched a dozen of their games this year. I've never watched a White Sox game, went sour on a single radio broadcast I heard, and just don't know what they're like as a team. Scott who? Jermaine who? Juan who?

Regardless of who they are, they brought their Deathstar game. Am I irked? Yes, in a predictable and fannish sort of way. White Sox are the anti-Cubs—that they're so bloody good is salt in my wounds. But, like the Yankees, they're kind of predatory and heartless. The utter absence of underdog charm makes them feel corporate—engineered to conquer.

So, now, it's on. Remember, Boston, the force is with you.