Bernie Lincicome

Optimism, that rascal, hides among the empty seats of White Sox park, or out there in Wrigley's ivy. It lurks somewhere near the bottom of the standings, though in the case of the Sox it is more like the loungings or the loafings, not exactly upright in any case.

Preoccupied with the White Sox seeking a number that will live in infamy, or at least until the Sox break it next year, a few of us have allowed baseball's second season to sneak upon us, meaning it is playoff time again.

Time has not been unkind as much as indifferent to Pete Rose, making him no better than he deserved, allowing him to fade into a cliché, noticing him now because he is dead, restarting an old argument that lost its heat when baseball joined hands with gambling.

The mail being not what it was, or not being at all, my letter from Jerry Reinsdorf has yet to arrive, although it has been widely reported to exist. Taking it on faith, then, I accept the implied apology to White Sox fans, of which I have been one since Hawk Harrelson and I shared a urinal at quirky old Comiskey Park.

Note to the NFL office: No thanks. The Bears will just go on from here, doing what they've been doing the last couple of weeks, roaring along on the Big Bandwagon Momentum, which should be an express, not a local.

The urgent longing for baseball to be what it once was can be detected in the relief found from a World Series between “icons” of the game, as if the Yankees and Dodgers have not been holding up t...

Taken on faith, a requirement hereabouts, Will Venable is the 44th manager of the White Sox, although to be honest I stopped keeping count somewhere between Jeff Torborg and Robin Ventura. Introducing...

The frontiers of panic are indistinct, but we can agree that the Bears are at the border. One more loss and the rescue of backsliding Caleb Williams, as well as the miracle healing of — let me check my list — linebackers, wide receivers, offensive linemen, will not keep the Bears from playing for scraps. One more loss and the Bears become that most miserable of creatures, an afterthought.

As poster-doofus of the moment, Matt Eberflus has deftly avoided the dreaded kiss of death, otherwise known as the vote of confidence, which in sports is like the unopened letter from the IRS.

Those of us who watch NFL football with the sound off may yet have an opinion about the broadcasting chops of Tom Brady because, after all, he is Tom Brady. The Greatest of All Time has been reviewed ...