You can tell how slow of an offseason it has been for the White Sox by counting the amount of stories there are on the front page here about A.J. Pierzynski not having signed anywhere. It is literally as exciting as counting the rings inside a sapling to see how old the future tree was. Three. The answer is three-years-old. You were less nurturing than a forest to that poor maple tree and its death is now on your hands along with every fish and small mammal you were ever responsible for.
This isn't going to be another article arguing whether we should re-sign Anthony or just go with Tyler Flowers. I've made my feelings on that situation clear. I wanted to take a slightly different approach. For the past eight years, we've grown accustomed to seeing the same player at backstop for over 100 games each year. Those days are likely over. Welcome back to the world of 2004.
Adrian Beltre led the majors in homeruns. Scott Podsednik did the same in stolen bases. Randy Johnson, Curt Schilling, Ben Sheets, and Jason Schmidt were four of the most effective pitchers in baseball. And for all but the last few months of the season (read: August and September) I did not yet have a driver's license. There have been six perfect games thrown over that span. I graduated high school, college, and will have finished half of vet school. Life moves forward at an unstoppable pace.
How many of you met the love of your life, got engaged, and then married over the past eight years? How many had kids? Think of what you were eight years ago. Seriously, pause and think. You're old. It's okay. I am too. You're likely older unless you're blackoutsox or OznCoop, but you are old. Baseball teams aren't really afforded the luxury of getting old. Look at what is happening to the Yankees right now. The past is an occasionally (I have never once spelled this word correctly upon first attempt) wonderful place to visit. But you can't stay stuck there.