As the manager of the 1994 Chicago White Sox, I'm gonna have to call malarkey on this one.

Listen: we're not the Yankees or anything. We don't have a huge payroll with which to buy the best players. We don't have a lot of supportive fans. Hell, we're our own city's second favorite baseball team! How many teams can say that? Maybe us and the Mets, but that's about it. The point is, we're not bad guys here. We're supposed to be the underdog team with a Cinderella story.

Then, out of nowhere, the Angels out in California broke their 0-62 losing streak. Good for them, I thought. They were beyond bad. They were abyssmal. Their owner sold off most of their good, young prospects for coke money, their most dedicated fan abandoned his child, and in a wild publicity stunt, they hired Danny Glover to coach their team. The point is, they could use a win. They didn't really deserve a win, but you had to feel a little bad for them.

But they didn't stop winning. They won the next 98 games, with maybe one or two losses in there! I couldn't believe their sudden luck. We were neck-and-neck with Cleveland most of the season, but those damn Angels kept creeping up on us. Then, they beat us in the last game of the season to clinch the pennant. Crap luck for us – or so I thought.

I found out recently that they had angels – yes, LITERAL angels – helping them out. Hitting homeruns for them, moving the foul post (HOW DID NO ONE ELSE NOTICE THAT?!), and generally messing with the game to move things in their favor. It's one thing to be a Cinderella story due to talent, hard work, and perserverance – it's quite another to have God saving your sorry ass by screwing over other more-deserving teams. Bullshit, I say.

Apparently some kid begged God to let the Angels win so his deadbeat father would come back to him. Oh, thanks God. It's not like we don't have any down-on-their-luck kid fans of our own or anything. Thanks for absolutely ruining an entire season of baseball for millions of fans just to bring an alcoholic, worthless father back to his kid. Oh! Here's the kicker! He gets adopted by Danny Glover! Couldn't you have engineered that without destroying the integrity of baseball, God?

By the way, I prayed for Farrah Fawcett to become a nymphomaniac and have her car break down in front of my house back in 1978. Where were your angels then?

Sincerely,
Gene Lamont