What’s up Stoolies?  It’s been a while.  A long, quiet while.  Here we are, the day that pitchers and catchers report to their respective Spring Training destinations, and there is hardly anything to talk about on the South Side.  It hasn’t been like this in YEARS over the course of a whole offseason.  Honestly, I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. It’s a good thing because the Sox return a solid middle of the order to go along with a top pitching staff, but at the same time there was literally NOTHING to blog about this offseason, other than the departure of AJ to Texas.  I’m gonna miss that bastard, but he’s in the rear view mirror now; Tyler Flowers is gonna get his fair shot as the Sox backstop.  If he fucks up, Josh Phegley is next in line down in Charlotte.

Though 2012 was a good year, the Sox still choked in magnificent fashion.  In my journalistic opinion, I seriously believe it was because they didn’t have that X factor.  I’m not talking about some stud, 5 tool player;  I’m talking about the Aaron Rowand type who would smash his face to smithereens diving for a ball, a Willy Harris who would pinch run and swipe an important base, or Carl Everett who would take the pressure off the team by making boisterous claims doubting the existence of dinosaurs to the media.  There was none of that last year, and having said that, I am going to make a bold prediction:  Gordon Beckham will have an X factor type year.  He’s going to be that adhesive that binds together the Sox stars and utility players, and I’m calling his first career All Star selection come July.  Chalk it up, Mark it down.  Book it.

There are a few things that need to happen in order for this to come to fruition, however. He needs to stop putting so much fucking pressure on himself.  When he’s struggling, it seems like every at bat he’s in a complete mindfuck; not because the pitcher is out thinking him, but because he’s out thinking himself.  Like Benny “The Jet” Rodriquez said, “Man, this is baseball. You gotta stop thinking. Just have fun.”  Believe me, Gordon – I feel like the weight of the world is resting on my shoulders, too; I have the constant pressure of laying around, eating potato chips, and guessing asses all day, and sometimes I just don’t know if I’ll make it out alive. And how do I take the pressure off my daily grind you ask? Just like all you guys do: I read the Stool.  And that’s what Bacon’s gonna do. He’s gonna read Barstool Sports. In a matter of days he’ll be making fun of KFC’s double chin and doubting Neil’s existence – that’s a promise from whitesoxdave to you guys.

Now I’ll be the first to admit, my internet stalking skills aren’t as sharp as they should be for a Barstool writer.  The extent my stalking covers is clicking through girls “Summer 2012 <3″ albums on Facebook before I go to sleep at night.  Lucky for me, and unluckily for Gordon, I have access to one of the sickest, most demented internetters of all time, Big Cat.  Now I know Big Cat is a Cubs fan, but I’m sure he’ll welcome the challenge of internet stalking Bacon with open arms.  He’s that dedicated to his art of internet stalking, and an art form it truly is.  Thanks ahead of time, Big Cat.

So welcome to Barstool, Gordon.  It’s a sick, twisted world, but I’m sure it’ll be your second love after your new fiancee.  Have a good season, Bacon.  Go Sox and Viva la Stool!



Big Cat’s Note