I had considered doing an All-Decade Team until I actually starting putting one together and realized that there were zero debates. Right field was as close as it got, but Jermaine Dye’s one extra season, plus that award that escapes my mind — something value something — gives him a clear edge over Magglio Ordonez.
Passing on the Obvious Guy Making Obvious Decisions route, I had a different idea when, over at South Side Sox, Rob talked about scoring Jerry Owens’ locker nameplate at the White Sox clubhouse sale, a purchase of which I am completely and utterly jealous.
If I were able to attend the clubhouse sale, I might be the guy who you’ll see at The Cell in a few years and think, “Who the hell would buy a Betemit jersey?” which was also on sale.
(That actually wouldn’t be me, but you’ll see why in a bit.)
Anyway, it became evident that the All-Irony Team would provide a much more fertile ground for debate. We’re talking about creating a 25-man roster of players who are most fondly remembered for things they wouldn’t be proud of.
A couple of guidelines I used:
No. 1: They had to get significant playing time. September call-ups don’t count, nor do temporary mop-up guys. That would be a “least-talented player” list. They had to be around for a few months and deployed often enough to build up a rapport.
No. 2: They couldn’t be bad, then good or vice versa. That would be a “worst season” list, and that’s just simple math. No…
No. 3: There has to be some je ne sais quoi. Basically, something else has to come to mind besides a guy’s triple-slash line — something that might cause you to start a sentence with either a “Haaaaa…” or “Oh, that [expletive] guy…”
No. 4: I can be swayed. If you think there’s some injustice, present your case.
That said, here’s what the position players look like.
STARTERS
Catcher: Ben Davis.
The baggage acquired in the Freddy Garcia trade, Davis managed to be a typical low-OBP, decent-SLG catcher for the Sox in 2004. He became best known for drawing a $1 million salary for the 2005 team despite never spending a day on the major-league roster. I wonder if he got a ring.
First base: Timo Perez.
Paul Konerko’s kung-fu grip on first hasn’t allowed many guys to make any kind of impression behind him, and the one guy who did — Ross Gload — was solid.
Therefore, Timo slips in thanks to his legendary performance on June 1, 2005. For some reason, Ozzie Guillen started Perez at first base. He hadn’t played there since 1999, hadn’t broken in his mitt, and when he predictably didn’t catch a throw from A.J. Pierzynski, it led to two unearned runs and, eventually, a White Sox loss.
This was the one case in which Timo didn’t let anybody down — everybody was too confused by him starting at first to be upset with his general fetidness.
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