Picture it: Ozzie Guillen, hat in hand, addressing his team for one last time. Heartbroken. He stands in front of a group of grown men and gives them the boilerplate coach-talk about how, no matter what he might've said before, he knows they played their hearts, gave their best, and just came up a bit short. We'll get 'em next year, boys.
And then Ozzie cries.
Is that something you really want Ozzie to have to do? His heart will explode. The guy can't take it. Not to get all Bill Simmons on you, but he's that kid at your friend's wedding who just broke up with his long-term girlfriend -- push him a little too far toward emotion, give him just a little too much to drink, and the embarrassing tears will begin to flow. He's only a second away.
But that's the scenario the White Sox face. So many managers show so little emotion, but with Ozzie everything's public -- every little personal thing is on his sleeve. That's what feels at stake when the White Sox play their makeup game tonight, which, if they win, will see them forced into a tiebreaker with the Minnesota Twins. Ozzie's emotional well-being. His love of the Sox. If the players lose tonight, they will have nobody to blame but themselves; they're the ones who can't field, who didn't hit in Minnesota, who have blamed (though never directly) their woes on that goofy dome in Minneapolis.
It's really not Ozzie's fault. Which is why it's hard not to root for the man tonight. And Tuesday, if applicable. A teary Ozzie Guillen press conference is always morbidly entertaining ... but it's never as much fun as when Ozzie wins.
