12 Hours Gone: Time to Be Bitter
"Don't Stop Believing" is the worst victory theme imaginable, unless you really love figure skating or you're stuck in 1982. Former Journey lead singer Steve What's-His-Name suddenly shows up at the World Series, appearing to be more or less confused by his own presence. It seemed like someone kind of, sort of explained to him the purpose for his being there, but you could tell he didn't actually give a shit about the White Sox. The guy probably hadn't even intended on watching the games, but then Reinsdorf sent him a check and a jet, luring him out of the Los Angeles bar he's been living in for the last 10 years. Then, he's unexpectedly freezing his ass off in the cold rain in Chicago, and a couple days later a bunch of athletes whose names he doesn't even know are spraying champagne in his face in Texas. "Go--uh--Sox...? These guys are...uh...a bunch of guys who just told me this whole story again just a few seconds ago, but I don't really know that much about them. I'm here for the paycheck and some free beer, and hopefully I can hitch a ride to the airport or a strip club when they empty the stadium. Hey! Is that Lisa Dergan?!" Nice random celebrity fan: An unaffilliated, disinterested rock star from the early 1980s, who is vaguely famous for being in a band which voted to expel him. Let's tip our caps to the Sox marketing gurus who had the courage to push forward with this concept.
And what's the basis for the Sox's love for this song anyway? It must have come on the jukebox one night while they were blacked out at a bar, probably on a road trip in Cleveland, the world's most boring place. Or maybe it was Dye's prom song, or it was playing on the radio when Konerko lost his virginity. Better yet, maybe it's a huge inside joke that we won't hear about for thirty or forty years. Tell me you couldn't see Pierzynski and Rowand as old men, out on a fishing boat somewhere, laughing their butts off about how they duped all the stupid Sox fans into believing that the song doesn't suck. Or, maybe they convinced Iguchi that it's the biggest song in American rock history, just to fuck with the Japanese guy who can't speak English. That's the sort of chicanery you'd expect from the tough and gritty White Sox--not the background music for a yeast infection commercial.
One final question: If winners are associated with a song this crappy, is it really all that bad to be a loser?
And what's the basis for the Sox's love for this song anyway? It must have come on the jukebox one night while they were blacked out at a bar, probably on a road trip in Cleveland, the world's most boring place. Or maybe it was Dye's prom song, or it was playing on the radio when Konerko lost his virginity. Better yet, maybe it's a huge inside joke that we won't hear about for thirty or forty years. Tell me you couldn't see Pierzynski and Rowand as old men, out on a fishing boat somewhere, laughing their butts off about how they duped all the stupid Sox fans into believing that the song doesn't suck. Or, maybe they convinced Iguchi that it's the biggest song in American rock history, just to fuck with the Japanese guy who can't speak English. That's the sort of chicanery you'd expect from the tough and gritty White Sox--not the background music for a yeast infection commercial.
One final question: If winners are associated with a song this crappy, is it really all that bad to be a loser?
posted by Pat at 11:16 AM
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