Not long ago, on at least two websites far, far away, the editor of the site you see before you predicted a season of meddling and averageness for his beloved White Sox, and that editor was salivating at the prospect. Suffice to say that editor is happy to have been wrong so far.

So now here we sit on the precipice of the second half with the Good Guys in first and, against all odds, with no fully-justified reason to think the good times will come to an end anytime soon: most of the tough series are overwith; Cleveland has given up; Minnesota simply can’t keep it up; Detroit dug themselves too big a hole to start the season; and Kansas City, well, they’re still Kansas City.

You’re probably asking why things are suddenly so optimistic around here, especially after the doom-and-gloom that defines most of what passes for content on this site. Some may call this front-running or bandwagon-jumping. In truth, it’s something far more psychotic. You see, for all the talk of life after scoring four touchdowns in a single game the 2005 World Series victory, what still sticks out in this lifetime of following the Sox is the lifestyle of near-misses and dashed expectations. That certain year was awesome, but far from definitive and nowhere near a sure thing to ever happen again.

So how do we reconcile these two disparate ideas, one of a single moment of glory and another of a lifetime of near-contention? Do we recoil in fear of getting hurt again, of getting our hopes too high only to be burned again by the heartbreak of 1993, 1994, 2000, 2003, or 2006? Hedge our bets by limiting our emotional investments? Set our standards low on purpose so small triumphs can mean the world?

No friends, I’ve got a better idea: let’s go all the way in the total opposite direction. If they’re going to crush us, well, they might as well crush us as much as they can. The kids can reliably anchor the staff. The lineup will continue score 7 runs a game with only five working bats. The bullpen will remain mysteriously effective and effectively mysterious. The manager will lead not by example but by detriment. The whole broken machine will keep working despite itself.

And we will believe this. Not because we should, but because we must. Winning will not kill us, and second place will only make us stronger. Onward South Side soldiers!