How many top ten singles did Natalie Imbruglia produce? How many movies has Brett Favre scored a cameo in? How many songs by The Fugees can you sing by heart? If you haven't found the commonality in these questions just yet, this might make it a bit easier for you: how many pitches does Matt Thornton have?
You guessed it, one. What's ironic about the Sox closer having only one pitch is that when he comes in, Ozzie and Co. have rarely been able to say that their team has demonstrated the other usage of the hononymic word (won) based on what the scoreboard reads after he leaves.
Truth be told, Three Dog Night may have said it best, "One is the loneliest number that you'll ever see." Take for example, No. 37 in black. Where has the old reliable number one dangling below Pierzynski's junk gotten him? Well, for starters (no pun intended to relievers), Thornton blew his third save of 2011 Wednesday afternoon and left Sox fans scratching their heads and frantically calling 670 The Score for psychoanalytic analysis on their commute home.
As far as loneliness goes, there isn't a soul around to comfort Thornton on his isolated island over the left field wall at U.S. Cellular Field. One...two...three strikes. You're out, out of a job that is.
With all of these theatricals unfolding on the South Side, no man in baseball is more content than the blonde-bearded blimp in Boston. Not only did the White Sox choose to let go of Big Bobby Jenks, who looked the part of the quintessential closer more than anyone, but he was also the subject of Oney Guillen's harassment on Twitter. Bad karma, Oney. Bad karma indeed.
As I mentioned before, what is strangely ironic about the Sox's switch in late-game relief is that they have shifted from a guy who fit the closer's role to a T to a guy who looks as out of place as Sinaedo Connor at the Vatican.
Thornton, from what I can tell in interviews seems to posses a level-headed and mild-mannered demeanor, which is far from the stereotype of your everyday closer. Normally, we see a pitcher on the mound in the ninth who's acting like he's four rows back and forty beers deep at a Godsmack concert.
And, perhaps most importantly, Thornton doesn't rock a trace of facial hair. No goatee, no broom mustache, no pencil-thin chinstrap, nothing! How does he expect to close games successfully when his facial follicle repertoire can't even prove he has graduated from adolescence.
However uncharacteristic he may be on the bump, the fact remains--he has one pitch. According to baseball-reference.com, Thorny throws gas over 90 percent of the time. I don't care how fast it's moving or where you can put it, big league hitters are going to figure something out. In time, hopefully the Sox can too.
As for Pick of the Day, The Pulse Man's pick was postponed last night as he looked to make it two straight wins. For tonight, The Pulse Man likes former-Cub, Ted Lilly and the LA Dodgers to take down the defending World Series Champs in the city by the bay.
Pick of the Day: Dodgers (Lilly) @ Giants (Sanchez)- DODGERS (+134)
Record:(64-51-0)
Now I'm done. Rack me
Frost
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