Last night's third game of the World Series set up three true outcomes of misery:
- The White Sox, having waited a century or two to win a championship, will lose four straight games, snatching the pity crown left up for grabs by the 2004 Red Sox.
- The Astros claw back to force a sixth or seventh game, temporarily giving false hope to tens of thousands of fans who lived and died with the team, even during the Roger Metzger days.
- The Astros wait a few decades to get to a World Series, come close enough to go home with the stink of championship on their uniforms, and get quickly dispatched in four or five games.
A.J. Pierzynski has made me pull ever so slightly for the Astros, but this isn't the `97 Marlins against the Indians here. Don't think of the fan who ignored the Sox for a lifetime, only to find his calling involved paying too much for scalped Series tickets and trying to get his lame sign on television. Think of the guy or gal who has watched the White Sox for years. They've seen some good times and bad times, but their season has always ended in disappointment in one fashion or another. They've never found the right occasion to fill their Ron Kittle commemorative Foster's Freeze cup with champagne. It's a good time to be that fan.