[Mrs. Crede, watching from the stands … is today the day?]

Apparently, Mr. Rob Warmoski, his White Sox cap tilted rakishily at a Souljah Boy angle, took a rare morning jog so bursting with pride and dreams of a White Sox Nation that he exhausted himself and is unable to live blog game four of the White Sox/Rays series.  Well, who better to fill his rarely used running shoes than yours truly, another Chicago baseball fan?   Since the Cubs are out, I am of course released from any rooting interest in the Sox, as the Cubs will be unable to attend to the Hoser’s uppity entry into October on the World Stage. I waited around for Rob to wake up, so I will sum up the first three innings as such:

2-0 Rays, top of 4:   Gavin Floyd has given up two home runs to .267 hitting B.J. “The Babe” Upton, that currently leave the Sox behind two runs.  Floyd, one of the most feared pitchers on the South Side, at least by the Sox faithful today, is not what one would call “on his game.”  I was going to call Rob’s house again, but maybe that dream of the Sox parade rolling past the downtown Picasso and other sugar plum fairy stuff should be allowed to continue, out of a sense of euthanasia.

4-1 Rays, Top of 5:  Looks like Rob has woken up, and I have to fetch the tot from preschool.  I’m going to let Rob scramble to retilt his Sox hat and fill in the middle set of innings.  I’ll rejoin you for the good news later.  I feel liking jogging, actually.  I leave you with the deadly Mr. Upton on the plate.

6-2 Rays, Top of 9:  I’m back, and am pleasantly disappointed in the performance of Ozzie’s South Side Hosiery Dept.  TBS shot callers seem enamored of the word “quiet” in describing the Sox bench and crowd.  But then, they’ve been calling a lot of Cubs games lately.  Whose getting the 9th for Ozzie?  I hear Ted Lilly’s available …



Linebrink gets through a deep pressure 9th, maintaining a 4-run Sox deficit.  He did his job.

6-2 Rays, Top of 9:  It’s doubtful the drink of choice in the Rays locker room will be Old Style.  Anyone know where the Sox shrine goes up?  I’ll jog over, Cub hat tilted rakishly, following the trail of Pabst cans and tears to Ferro’s.  Konerko gives the South Side one last loud out to remember him by.  The Rays lean over the dug out rail, getting ready to make one last use of Cellular Field in 2008.  Ken Griffey, the poor man’s workin’ man’s version of a Man-Ram mid-season power move, strikes out to validate Kenny Williams’ genius.

[See you next year, Rob.  Same city, same sides …]