Random rumblings about the world

I know I said I was aiming for weekly posts, and I know I came up a little bit short. But eight days isn't bad, and I was waiting for something to bring my mood up, because I don't write well when I'm pissed off, and certain resignations of certain Red Sox high-level officers ruined the first half of my week. So anyway, this is the best I can do.

Anyway, the Red Sox will be lucky to finish over .500 next season. Theo will really, really, really be missed, and his assistant Josh Byrnes, who's in Arizona now, will be too. We need someone in our front office to be working on re-signing Damon right now, and on top of that, Manny might actually be serious about a trade this time, and that might need to be looked into by a real GM, which we don't have. The only thing our Theo-less organization has done so far is re-sign Mike Timlin, who will be in his forties by Opening Day. We're looking at a team with pretty much average pitching, and if things don't fall into place this offseason, it's not a lot more than a Papi-centric offense (featuring a record-setting number of intentional walks).

So the reason I'm in a good mood (really, I swear, I am) is that there is at least one team in Boston that can win, and that is the 1-0 Celtics. Paul Pierce just led the Celtics-Knicks game in not only points with 30 (that one was expected), but rebounds with 12 -- even Eddy Curry only had eight. This guy is the real deal; he can really carry this team. I'm also really excited about Delonte West, who had nine assists and turned the ball over just once. He's playing really well for a second-year point guard.

In other news, I'm 19 now. It doesn't feel that different from being 18, to tell the truth, but birthdays are always nice. I was thrilled to receive a bounty of new books as birthday presents (I know... I read now... it's scary). It'll probably take me until I'm 20 to finish them all, but I'm already hard at work on Steven Levitt's Freakonomics, and it's really interesting stuff. Not always easy to get on board with, but extremely thought-provoking. I'd recommend it to anyone with an open mind.

The best birthday present of all was probably one that wasn't a material thing, and it came from a guy I've never even met. Yes, you guessed it... I'm referring to the one and only Scott Rasmussen. The latest poll on the Kaine-Kilgore race is showing Tim Kaine with his first lead. With only six days left (actually, the clock's striking midnight as I write this sentence, so make it five), I'm hoping he can hold on. I'm becoming more and more disgusted by Jerry Kilgore every day; if he wins, I may end up losing all hope for humanity.

Speaking of politics, I'm planning on signing up for another polisci course next semester. After a conference with my advisor, my latest list of courses is looking like comparative politics, astronomy, US history, macroeconomics, and intermediate journalism. This list is probably subject to a dozen more tweakings before the 16th, when everything gets finalized, but that's the latest update.

I'm in between projects right now with the Daily... now that baseball season's over and done with, there's not a lot for me to do. I'm being promised that there's other stuff waiting for me, but for now, I have a week off. I've moved on to basketball with my Observer sportswriting, but my first article isn't online yet. I'll try to update things here when it goes up ("it" refers to an Eastern Conference preview).

As for everyone who laughed in my face after all my baseball predictions backfired, I apologize for being such a moron, and I promise it'll never happen again. But in my defense, I wasn't at all alone. Peter Gammons and Rob Neyer both wrote pieces on ESPN.com predicting an Astros win. I suppose even geniuses like Peter, Rob, and I are human. Sometimes decently above-average teams like the White Sox can get lucky and win.

I could stop whining about this whole World Series issue now, but we all know that isn't my style. So, without further ado... the Top 5 White Sox Who Don't Deserve Championship Rings.

5. AJ Pierzynski. He's a dirty, dirty cheater. Anyone who tries to steal first base, and gets away with it, is subhuman scum. Plus he's a horrible hitter. His on-base percentage was a whopping .308, and he grounded into 27 double plays (a White Sox all-time record).

4. Scott Podsednik. Probably the most overrated player in baseball. Honestly. I could steal 59 bases if you gave me 82 tries. Plus, it doesn't take a master baseball statistician to see that a player with higher on-base than slugging, and zero home runs, has absolutely no batting power whatsoever.

3. Carl Everett. As clubhouse cancers go, this guy is pretty much as bad as it gets. He's a good baseball player I suppose, but I just can't stand the man.

2. Ozzie Guillen. "Smartball," "Ozzieball," "Smallball," whatever you call it, it's garbage. He tries way too many steals, sacrifices, and bunts when he shouldn't, and he can't manage a pitching staff.

1. Kenny Williams. Not everyone has heard of him because he's a front-office guy. But the White Sox GM has gotten tons of credit for being the mastermind behind the championship season, when really, Williams didn't do anything all that special. Mark Buehrle, Jon Garland and Paul Konerko were the real heroes of that team, and they were already in place when Williams got there. All Kenny did was acquire... well, all of the other four guys on this list. Carlos Lee for Podsednik? How does that man have a job?

Plus, here's an excerpt from a Tom Verducci article this October...

"By the way, McCarthy very nearly wound up in the Boston rotation this season. When the Red Sox agreed to trade Nomar Garciaparra to the White Sox for Magglio Ordonez after the 2003 season -- contingent on getting a deal done with Texas for Alex Rodriguez -- Boston asked for two low-level minor leaguers. One of them was McCarthy, a former 17th-round pick who had 125 strikeouts and 15 walks in rookie ball. The Red Sox didn't know much about him but were impressed by those stats. The White Sox easily agreed to put him in the deal."

According to one of Theo's assistants, that isn't the whole story. Not only did Kenny agree to deal his franchise player and a future All-Star in exchange for an injury-prone shortstop in the twilight of his career, but his response wasn't just that he "easily agreed." His actual response was "McCarthy... who's that?"

I kid you not.

With all that out of the way, now I can promise to stop complaining about baseball... after all, October's over and it's time to move on. Now that November's here I can focus on other things, I suppose.

Like college applications! Only twelve more days before Tufts's ED deadline! There's still plenty of time for every high school senior reading this to have a last-minute change of heart and apply here early. I promise, you won't regret it. No? Okay, well, I tried.

There's also Election Day, and I suppose there's not much left for me to do there but cross my fingers and hope for the best. I hope everyone down there in Virginia is doing what they can to avert the potential electoral disaster on the way.

Plus there's tons of schoolwork. With the semester nearing two-thirds of the way over, my psych class (which has three tests) and my polisci class (three papers) all have milestone assignments coming next week. And then there's an entire novel to read for English in a week, and a research paper on the way in baseball analysis, a class which is turning out to be a lot harder than I thought.

That reminds me. I shouldn't be writing this now. I have a psych book to bury my face in for a few hours (shoot me now, please).

So... I suppose the long, drawn-out entry makes up for the eight-day wait. So if you've been complaining about the infrequent updates here, I hope you'll accept my apology. If you've been inspired by my writings and decided to revive a blogging career of your own, I extend to you my congratulations. And if you don't really care about this thing except it gives you a chance to make fun of my horrible baseball predictions... well, then... I should book the next flight down to Austin to stab you in the face. Until then, signing off.