Guess Who's back... Back again...

by SonDog

Spending a week's vacation in Scottsdale and other Cactus League sites has become an annual ritual for me. It's very much a religious experience that perennially refreshes and soothes my soul. I would compare it to the Muslim hajj pilgrimage to Mecca, but that would do an absolute disservice to my trip while not awarding my Scottsdale experience any justice.

Quite simply, there is nothing quite like the Arizona Spring Training experience. Florida's version, the Grapefruit League, can't hold the Cactus League's jock (and yes, I made that statement with absolutely no knowledge or reason to believe it to be true, as I have never been to Florida. As Steve Mariucci once said of Terrell Owens, it is void of any logical thought.).

This year's trip included trips to Tucson to visit the Chicago White Sox and Colorado Rockies camps, as well as the San Francisco Giants' camp in Scottsdale. With that in mind, I thought I would share with you today my unscientific thoughts on the White Sox and some of their key personnel.

Chicago White Sox Camp:
-- Hey, did you hear that the Chicago White Sox won the World Series last year? In case you forgot, they remind you everywhere you go in and around Tucson and Tucson Electric Park. Maybe I simply have a case of fan envy, but it seriously started to piss me off after about the 317th time I had to see something that said, "2005 World Champion Chicago White Sox!" Um, guys, we all get it. You won. Congratulations. Now, if you could go back to sucking again for the next 88 years, that would be great.

Chicago likes reminding fans about this fact every chance they can

-- I have reached the point where I can't read anything Ozzie Guillen has to say without wanting to gouge my eyes out with chop sticks. I fully understand that Ozzie did a solid job last year in keeping a loose clubhouse and diverting any criticism away from the players and towards himself. That being said, you would think the guy received a Nobel Peace Prize or something. (In case you couldn't tell by this point, I'm not a big fan of the Southsiders from Chicago.) Guillen is on my short-list of guys who don't know when to shut their yappers.

-- Not to sound like Peter Gammons, but remember this name: Ryan Sweeney. I watched him on two separate batting practice sessions in a group with Jermaine Dye and Rob Mackowiak. Sweeney was hitting absolute bombs in Tucson, then again in Scottsdale. The ball jumped off his bat with authority and it was very clear that the kid has power. Now, he could become another Pedro Cerrano for all I know, but I have to believe that Sweeney will get a shot at some point in the near future. Granted, he is only 21, but you can see the power potential already.

-- I have decided that I hate A.J. Pierzynski. This revelation came a couple of days before my trip when I read an article on ESPN.com about the air-head catcher who likes to piss people off for pleasure. While he was with the Giants, I was actually a supporter of Pierzynski. Part of this was due to my undying hatred for Bret Tomko (anonymous source who labeled Pierzynski a "clubhouse cancer" in an Oakland Tribune article only three weeks into the 2004 season, thereby killing clubhouse chemistry and I believe their season). However, the aforementioned ESPN article quotes Pierzynski as saying of the San Francisco clubhouse, "When you walked in there, everybody was on pins and needles," Pierzynski said. "No matter what you said or what you did, everybody was always looking to, not talk about someone, but whisper, 'Can you believe he did this? Can you believe he did that?' There wasn't a lot of joking around, there wasn't a lot of camaraderie. Felipe doesn't say a word, then Barry does his own thing. It works its way down. Everybody is so afraid to be themselves. It's just a different atmosphere. The best thing that ever happened was me getting out of there."

Anyways, here's why this is relevant. I went to the Rockies/White Sox game in Tucson decked out in all my Giants gear. I was wearing my Giants hat and 2004 Giants Spring Training shirt, while LeseDog was wearing a pink Giants hat just for good measure. During the seventh inning, I had the good fortune of catching the first foul ball of my life, off the bat of Jim Thome.

(Side Note: When I say "catch," what I really mean is, "power-shoving four old geezer ballpark volunteers out of the way on the concourse while diving head-long onto the steaming-hot asphalt in order to grab the ball before some five-year-old snot-nosed punk." But why bore you in the minutia of semantics, right?)

Anyways, I decided that I would go over to the White Sox dugout during the ninth inning to try to catch Thome after the last out. Naturally, I wanted him to sign the ball. Lo and behold, the first guy out of the dugout after the final out was none other than A.J. Pierzynski. With my perfect positioning on the railing next to the dugout, A.J. was a mere four feet from me. With a straight face (which is tough after four 20oz Corona bombers), I got his attention by saying, "Hey, A.J.! We miss you in San Francisco buddy... well, not really, but whatever." The look I received was one of pure disdain and hatred towards the orange and black I was wearing, not to mention my smart-ass smug look. I could truly see him resisting the urge to pull an Artest on me. He squinted his eyes, shook his head, mumbled something along the lines of "screw off," and headed down the tunnel behind home plate. It was the second greatest Spring Training experience of my life.

Pierzynski, right before kicking the Rockies' catcher in the balls and head-butting the umpire

So, this got me thinking a bit about Pierzynski. Here's my theory: I think Chicago caught lightning in a bottle last year with this guy, so to speak. He was in the right place at the right time (see Game 1, ninth-inning, ALCS) and kept his mouth shut just enough to keep the negativity away from him. There's no way this lasts. No way. Mark my words, if Chicago's season goes in the tank for any reason, there will be fingers pointed at Pierzynski for a variety of issues. I'm telling you, it is just too easy to get under that guy's skin and when you're that much of a hot-head, there is no middle-ground for fans between love and hate. The love-affair won't last. It might not end this year, but like Jeff Kent and every team he's every played with, it will one-day end.