The Playhouse is proud to keep the train rolling in our look back at the greatest four years in the history of the Chicago White Sox, the years in which Sammy Sosa was their pride and joy. The other day, a postman came to the door here at the Playhouse to deliver a copy of Scholastic's novelization of Double Team starring Dennis Rodman and Jean Claude Van Damme that I had recently ordered for the gift basket I am currently preparing for Kim Jong Un and Derek Jeter, and the humble postman happened to notice I was eating a bowl of Slammin' Sammy's Frosted Flakes Cereal. He remarked, "Sosa, eh? You know what he looks like these days?" I informed him that I was well aware of his current melanin measurements, and the man continued, "Not only is he white, he's a weird looking white guy. I mean, he was never exactly a heartthrob back in the day, but..." It was at that point I cut the man off, slammed my door (which is constructed entirely of cork) in his face, and made arrangements to have his first born son kidnapped and sentenced to a lifetime of watching Philadelphia Phillies games. Not a heartthrob? Somebody doesn't remember Slammin' Sammy's South Side Stylin' on the Sox! Sammy's glorious jheri curl did reach its full potential during his White Sox days, but that project started during his first stint with the George W. Bush-owned Texas Rangers in 1989. Sammy was understandably disappointed with then-Governor Bush's performance in Texas at the time, so he chose to cut all ties to Bush and pursue a hairstyle with an identity unique to his current career. A hairstyle that means something to Chicago, something that lets all the cool kids know how many late 80s Tupac bootlegs you've heard, a hairstyle that says "I enjoy making my mortgage payments at a low, guaranteed rate." And thus, Sammy Sosa's permed flat top was born. Call it foreshadowing for the then-wearer of #25 to eventually switch to a number that would have often been associated with Dominique Wilkins, call it a bastard child between 80s and 90s Afro-American hairstyle, or call it he result of a refusal to ransack whatever amount of relaxer he had previously invested in for the purpose of jheri curl maintenance, we here at the Playhouse choose to call it a sexy piece of ass which perfectly complements a prepubescent mustache.