Lincicome: Getz hire as GM proves White Sox have little urgency to win

It is not often that an owner of a sports team admits to reading, which is a confession that immediately dates a person, like knowing the words to "Maggie's Farm," or remembering the Berlin Wall.

It is no secret that Jerry Reinsdorf is 87 years old with a head full of memories and a prisoner of comfortable habits that are unfamiliar to those who do not remember Dylan, the treasure, not the pitcher, only one of whom really matters.

Of the items of notice coming from yet another news-ish day of White Sox stuff, I found of most interest not Reinsdorf's pique at reminders of his mismanager adventure nor that he may be considering moving his baseball team, but that he had read about it.

"I am so sick and tired of reading that bringing back Tony La Russa was a mistake," Reinsdorf said. And, further, "I've been reading that I've been threatening to move to Nashville."

My point is that more than once the written word has had a significant influence on Reinsdorf's day and to that I say, thanks, old dude for keeping alive the fading appeal of perusal, for some of us an ongoing uncertainty.

The decay of society can be measured by too much YouTube and too many books on tape.

What happens next for the White Sox is not a promise as much as a pattern for things on the Southside (an occasional team jersey guide more than a neighborhood boast) where faith requires an escort and a parking pass.

The White Sox have lately been of note for a batch of things, some silly, some serious, and just to keep the timeline current, they are now under the charge of a youngish fellow named Chris Getz whose chief credential is he happened to be standing nearby.

Taking Reinsdorf at his word, there was a search for others, modern thinkers about the old game, but there was Getz already in house and familiar with the Sox flaws since, after all, he was responsible for many of them.

It is possible that no one of any worth wanted the general manager's job, but it is more likely no one of any worth was asked, leaving tomorrow to someone who had already screwed it up.

As director of player development Getz developed, ahem, players. End of credential. Luis Robert, Jr., the best of the Sox, maybe Andrew Vaughn, come to mind but otherwise the Sox are a mismatched box of bobblehead dolls, bottom to top.

Said Getz, "We will rely on the group we have here and bring in different ideas and thinking to boost the intellectual firepower we have here."

Upon such gibberish will the Sox make their move. Maybe it could be a weekend promotion. First 200 ticket holders get gibberish T-shirts, maybe ones with "Southside" turned inside out.

Another promotion idea, for free, is to have a Sox jersey giveaway, where each shirt has the name of a favorite Sox player on the back, with the choice of names reduced to two, 'Lack" or "Luster."

Noted prominently in hiring Getz was the notion of "stability for our players," the players being the problem in the first place. The idea that the White Sox have become the dumpster divers they are because of uncertainty at the top is as wrongheaded as thinking the players care if Pedro Grifol is their manager, and he will be for another season, by the way, plenty of time for all to learn each other's names.

What is the incentive, then, for the Sox to play harder, to be better, to have a goal and seek it? One word. Urgency.

No gibberish here. Rally round the calendar, boys. It is a friend to none.

Sympathy, if not support, goes to the guy who admits he wants to win another one before he goes, an ongoing and palpable preoccupation among octogenarians. Reinsdorf wants things done quickly.

"We owe it to our fans and ourselves not to waste time," Reinsdorf said.

And at my back I always hear, time's winged chariot hurrying near ... and all that stuff.

So, the task is set. Win one for Jerry. Or, rather, win another one. We'll always have 2005.