Memo To Hawk: Shut Up

Don't lie - you were thinking it.

Hawk Harrelson is an interesting case. He's somewhat entertaining in the broadcast booth, and he absolutely loves his White Sox. Granted, his love comes at a price - he becomes retarded and more delusional than Courtney Love on a bender. The Sox are "the good guys," everyone else is the "bad guys," and every single bad thing that happens was because the other team got lucky or made a "once in a lifetime super-play."

This is fine - we expect it of Hawk, and we're used to it. I remember laughing along for games 1-162 of the 2007 season, where "Dadgummit" became part of my baseball lexicon because I heard it 30 times a day. But this Griffey business needs to stop - right now.

Every single night since Griffey was acquired, Hawk has fellated Griffey (and his "legend") in ways that make John Madden ashamed of his Brett Favre obsession. Griffey this, Griffey that - the guy wasn't even playing tonight! I understand the excitement of the first day with him on the squad, and even the second day, it's still OK. But it's been over a week now, and Hawk is still tongue deep in Ken's asshole.

Here's a sampling of some of the crap spewing out of Hawk's mouth:

"Look at that swing. That right there is a work of art in motion, DJ. It's perfect from beginning to end, and he's spent his whole career mastering it"
-After a Griffey strikeout, in which Hawk went back to watch the swing again in slo-mo

"People are worried about his fielding, but he was all over that ball. He makes a quick adjustment, and keeps his eyes on the ball like a centerfielder who hasn't lost a step. I remember when I first watched Griffey play, and I thought to myself 'if this guy can keep it up, he'll be in Cooperstown in no time.' Well, now he's in Chicago, and hopefully it's his last stop."
-After a lineout that went DIRECTLY to Griffey, which he still managed to get a bad jump on before backpedaling to make the catch.

"I remember back when I first started watching Griffey play baseball. The year was nineteen-dickety-nine. We had to say "dickety" because the Kaiser had stolen our word for "eight." I once paid four bees for a Griffey rookie card. We didn't call them quarters. 'Four bees for a dollar,' we used to say. One bee could get you a sandwich, a newspaper, and a ride on the trolley all the way to town. Anyways, the important thing was that I had an onion on my belt..."
- Blatantly ripped off from Grandpa Simpson. Still really fucking funny.

Long story short, this shit needs to stop. It's kinda embarassing, especially when Griffey looks less like this:

Momma, I got the foosball!

And more like this:

I learned the Retarded Ostrich from Rex!

Don't get me wrong - I like Griffey. But let's be realistic here, yeah?

Dadgummit!

$5 says Hawk just made some chocolate fudge in the booth

White Sox fans, rejoice (or, more likely, complain hilariously): the Chicago White Sox have agreed to a three-year extension, putting Hawk in the booth until at least 2011.

See, I've never been a fan of DJ (who is allergic to nouns and passes out when forced to say more than five words at a time), but the Hawk will always be special. Hawk was responsible for some of the best nicknames of the late 90's:

"Black Jack" McDowell, Carlos "El Caballo" Lee, Frank "The Big Hurt" Thomas, "Big Bad" Bobby Jenks and Herbert "the Milkman" Perry are all his names. With the exception of "Big Bad" Bobby (I would have gone with "Beefy Balls", and so would Keggers), all of those stick with you.

Unfortunately for us, Hawk has taken -- how can I put this delicately -- a bit of a slide lately. Those awkward pauses in conversation are now sometimes minutes in length -- I understand that there are times when you shouldn't talk if you have nothing to say (take notes, Chip Caray and Joe Buck) -- but your job is to talk. DJ can't lead a conversation, and I think the most times he's spoken during a game were a multi-HR game by the Sox (he has to say YES with Hawk at the end of every "you can put it on the board).

Not only that, but Hawk has become increasingly pissed off lately: when the Sox were winning, it was much less noticeable, but when the Sox lose, he's unbearable. I must have heard "Dadgummit" more times last year than I ever have. He's always been called a Homer, but that's Sox Pride when you're winning. When you're losing, it's a different monster altogether.

Either way, you have to figure Hawk is due: he was a lousy player, a terrible manager, and a terribly disturbing photo-op. You have to give the guy a chance to run with this extension and hope for the best. You really can't be terrible at FOUR things that you're supposedly good at. That's just pot odds. When Hawk gets into the booth, we have to just "strap it in and hunker down." Then again, the Sox aren't exactly impressing anyone this year.

Dadgummit, indeed.