There is so little better in this world than a sweep of the White Sox.

The way that we won the games should have been enough - comebacks galore, scores of hits (47??!!!), great defense, a walk-off walk. But that wasn't everything, not by a long shot. The best of this gorgeous, beautiful sweep came from what it did to the team. You could see them waking up to climb from the doldrums that the first two months of the season represented. It is our annual late May tradition - we finally decided to stop hibernating, and start playing some damn ball.

We have a ways to go to become top of the pops in the best division in baseball. As much as we came back to help our pitching, it would help if: Baker could calm down, Slowey could descend from the heavens and Santana would stop giving up so many home runs so I could stop hyperventilating. We left an absolutely obscene number of runners on base throughout the season, although that could be a credit to how much offense we were producing (I repeat - 4-fucking-7 hits??!?!??!?!) But questions can't come too much right now. The point is, we rolled. We bloody rolled against our hated rival and, more importantly, we finally seem to be showing some life.

For all of my pre-season pessimism, it's hard to not be happy right now. And we don't even have Mauer back yet.

...

EEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

The End of Roddick

Of all the early summer sporting events that draw constant attention, my favorite is the French Open. Partially because of how pretty France looks in the setting shots, partially because of how bizarre and unnatural the clay surface appears, and just a little because of how much fun it is to hear the sidejudges call out "egalite!" What is less fun, however, is the more recent tradition of watching Andy Roddick continue to lose before getting out of the numbered rounds. He has never made it past the third round at Rolland Garros, and has now been eliminated in the first round two years in a row. We all know the rap sheet on this guy by now: hasn't won a Grand Slam since 2003, has only won one Grand Slam, can't come through in the big match, can't beat the best in the game.

So why do we still care?

Any experience with me will tell you that I generally like to stand up for the athletes that the media constantly batters. This tendency exists, however, only because I often see the media criticizing players without warrant. For Mr. Roddick, the charges thrown against him are almost always valid. As with Michelle Kwan (another one of my mortal enemies), most people love Roddick even though he has done so little to earn it. In all fairness, Kwan has done more in her career (and that is saying something).

For the better part of a decade in the 90's (and for periods of time before then), America had a very stoked ego in terms of tennis dominance. While Sampras and Agassi strolled the courts with an aura of nearly assured victory, we as a country could smile at our champions of a sport that we really don't care about. Winning at tennis became almost second nature to most of us, like breathing or walking. Now, as all of our champions are retired and Sportscenter has almost dropped any tennis highlights from its programming, we stand as a nation without a tennis identity. Roddick was once championed as the next great wonder in American tennis, but it is obvious that he has become anything but. He hits his backhands with all the confidence of a drunk frathouse rat trying to convince the police that she looked way older than 16. He looks petulant and boyish when the calls aren't going his way. He coasts way too much for someone who can't win. Also, in what may be the most telling part of his psyche, he takes every loss in stride nowadays. He could care less about his losses, or about the tradition of American tennis that he carries on his back.

With no end in sight for Roddick's woes, I've officially given up. I don't care what he does anymore; he 's worthless. He has achieved Kwan status in my mind, always smiling and cheerful, but never able come through when it really truly matters. He will never become the tennis player he should have been or the player we hoped he'd be or the player that matches the success of those gone by. He's a loser. And that's that.

Recap

I haven't been able to pay close attention to the sports world the past few weeks, what with finals and the end of the semester. However, this seems to be the gist of what's going on:

Dirk: Done.

Yankess: Hilarious.

Justin Verlander: Smoked.

Barry Bonds: Tapdancing all over history.

Sammy Sosa: Hitting homers and nothing else (which is bad for a designated hitter, apparently)

Brady Quinn: Aww.

Brady Quinn's girlfriend: Mmmmmhmmmm

Raiders: Got rid of a headcase. For their trouble, got another headcase.

Browns: There's a plane crash in your future.

Vikings: Cautiously optimistic.

Bills: Ya know, if you had just kept Mcgahee, you could have used that first pick on something else. You know, just saying.