THE BLEACHERITE
I followed today’s game on satellite radio, but I could have saved myself the trouble. To learn that the Sox had joined the Cubs in failure, all I really had to do was monitor the body language of my Sox-supporting colleagues. Their aimless pacing, ashen faces, frustrated mutterings, and haunting moans of agony told me all I needed to know. I never knew what gnashing of teeth looked like—until now. But there’s no freude in my schaden, because I want to see ex-Red Ken Griffey Jr. play in his first World Series. I won’t stop believin’ just yet.

THE CUBS HATER
Wore my Sox hat to work, enduring grumbles from a mourning Cubbie Nation— including The Fatalist, who, in his sad little Cubs cocoon, asked if I was "rubbing it in." Hey, we didn’t beat you guys last night. (It was the wind, remember?) But now I’m getting laughed at, thanks to Javier Vazquez, who’s got three different pitches—fastball, curveball, and changeup—none of them particularly good. Nice guy, Javy, even in defeat. He could have served up six homers to this Longoria kid, and it wouldn’t have bothered good old Javy. Then again, I’d be nice, too, if I made a million bucks every time I won a ballgame. Get me Buehrle. Now.

THE DELUSIONIST
I’m not a Delusionist about the Sox. Go Cubs Go!

THE ELITIST
Javy Vasquez: Another Yankees reject. What do you expect?

THE FATALIST
Was that a Major League Baseball game? Why didn’t the pitchers bat? Oh, and is Evan Longoria married to Eva Longoria? (And are they the parents of Evangeline and Everett Longoria?) I kept wondering.

THE GIRL
One good thing about being stuck in a cubicle today: I didn’t have to watch those Frank TV commercials on TBS. Mike & Mike said this morning that they love Caliendo and think he’s a genius—I’m not sure that I’ll ever be able to respect anything they say ever again. Anyway, about the Sox. I kept up with the game by listening to The Time Traveler yell and grunt down the hall. I think I also saw The Cubs Hater sobbing uncontrollably into his hands. Well, guys, I see your Javy Vasquez and raise you a Ryan Dempster. And maybe a Carlos Zambrano. Gah. I feel like puking again.

THE UMP
Glurg. As someone who likes both Black and Blue, it’s been a tough 24 for The Ump. Chained to the desk today, he only caught fleeting glances of the game. Between the Day-Glo blue Mohawks and Pierzynski’s platinum pouf, he can say with clear-eyed confidence that it wasn’t a good hair day for either team. As for the game itself, while not outclassed, the Pale Hose are—unlike the Red Sox and Dodgers—probably not going to pull an upset beyond the stomach sort . . . The Ump abides.

THE TIME TRAVELER
Things I learned during the agonizing wait for my computer to update the Sox game: the name "Javier," meaning "splendid," is a variant of "Xavier," which of course recalls Saint Francis Xavier, the Jesuit missionary to Japan. Which is where I can only hope Nonespléndido Vazquez is pitching next season, or even next week. Just no more starts for the White Sox. Please. (I’d give the ball to Richard despite that shaky eighth inning.) And this just in: the Sox watering hole Jimbo’s has lost the latest round in its eviction battle. So exactly where am I supposed to drown my sorrows?