The roar … has been restored.
Time to eat some … bird feed. I didn’t think the Blackhawks could do it. No way they come this far, this fast, but they have. Now, I can’t get that song out of my head … the one they play when they score. It also compels me to get an Amstel Light — and that’s a problem.
They’re here: The Western Conference finals. Let’s rejoice in the moment. We’re back from the brink, the crowds at the United Center make me remember the Chicago Stadium on a cold winter night.
Just a quick review here: The last time they won the cup, it was 1961. That’s pre-Cuban Missile Crisis, people. That’s prewar, really. You pick the war. Now, I don’t want to complain … except that I do. Forty-eight years! Entire industries have been born, thrived and tossed aside by the brutal machine of capitalism.*
We still made pretty good cars the last time the Blachawks won it all … we still had newspapers back then. TV was free … you get the point. Here’s the best part: These Hawks are going to be around for a while. I’m just glad Pat Foley is back to call the action … a guy like that should never have gone away in the first place.
Speaking of first place, our White Sox aren’t there.
Jose Contreras has been sent to the minors to work on some things. That would be fine, if he weren’t 50 years old. Ozzie, Kenny, Jose: I’m sorry, it’s over. Jose was awesome in 2005, but it’s been downhill ever since. Time to go young.
It may also be over for Bartolo Colon (right). The round mound of pitcher’s mound (my nickname, and a bad one at that) looks like he’s seen better days too. I smell a trade coming, or a selloff, as it’s known. Bag Boy is a RedEye special contributor.
* Sorry for the socio-economic commentary.
