Roots For: White Sox
Hawk once broke Jay Mariotti's nose in a pregame scuffle. That's awesome. But when he's not cold-cocking sportswriters, he's announcing games, and that's when things come totally undone. He's devolved into a soundboard of "he gone," "that ball hit deeps," and "don't stop now boys" to the eye-rolling frustration of a submissive Steve Stone who can't get a word in edgewise. He's gotten a little careless on his "Stretch!" calls, like he's trying to shout lazy Alexei Ramirez flyouts over the fence. And he'll hit you with the same rant about "turnin' 'em loose" on every 3-0 count.

But what's made Hawk unbearable is his need to over-exaggerate the prowess of Sox opponents. Like Dayan Viciedo missing a curve ball by four feet is because some slow-throwing lefty has "the best stuff we've seen all season." Earlier this season he described Royals afterthought outfielder Jeff Francouer as, "one of the most exciting players I've had the privilege of watching in my 50-plus years in the game." That's all you need to know, really. Listening to Hawk used to be like watching a game with your grandpa but now it's, well, like watching a game with your grandpa—only he's on muscle relaxers and every three innings you're pained with the task of emptying his catheter bag.