Quite the Father’s Day. Tiger Woods, all mondo buffed (how long till the steroid whispers arise?), gets bested by Angel (ahn-HELL) Cabrera, a pudgy, chain-smoking Argentine known as “The Duck." The Texas Rangers actually win a series, when supposed ace Kevin Millwood wins his first start in two months. And dorky dads like me are nursing couch sores and thumbinitis syndrome from 12 straight hours watching golf, working the TiVo and laying horizontal.
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Symmetry should return this week when Sammy Sosa hits his 600th homer against his old team. The lovable, loseable Chicago Cubs crawl into town this week, and Sosa needs just one dinger to become baseball’s fifth to smack 600. Sosa’s slugging pace has s-l-o-w-ed, but there’s not a better time to make history than against Chicago. Hit No. 600 against another team, and would anybody care? Hit it two weeks from now, when Barry Bonds is closing in on Hank Aaron’s mark, and would anybody care? Come to think of it, does anyone north of the Domincan Republic care at all? --Richie Whitt