Quade to Treat Players Like People

Last weekend Mike Quade said something that, while repulsive to some, was actually quite brilliant. Here's the quote, courtesy of Paul Sullivan:

"Are you going to deal with 'Sori' the same way you deal with (Blake) DeWitt?" he said. "No."

Steve Rosenbloom thinks that's ridiculous.

Maybe he was intimidated by big-money players. Maybe he wanted them to say nice things to help him lose the interim tag. Whatever, the fact is he didn’t bench Ramirez when he gave up on some defensive plays and generally played dodgeball in the field. Nor did he bench Soriano for an utter and typical lack of hustle out of the batter’s box. What’s worse, Soriano’s stylin’ came in Quade’s first game. Soriano stayed in the game. Soriano was in the lineup the next day. Message to Cubs players: Become a big-money veteran.

There's a reason Steve Rosenbloom works on his own. He and other like-minded (is it right to use the word mind about someone who refuses to think?) individuals opine that the only way to communicate to players is by benching them. Fredi Gonzalez is apparently one of those people. That's how he handled Hanley Ramirez. It worked out well. I'm sure the righteous indignation made his final month of employment the very best ever.

Maybe in some phase of the Industrial Revolution, it made sense to treat every laborer exactly the same. Keep everyone at the factory in place. Forget individuality. The commoners can have their dignity when they go home, but at work you treat them like two year olds and put them in time out when they're naughty.

But this isn't 1832, and the Cubs aren't children. Enlightened employers realize that impartiality doesn't require blanket uniformity. Respecting the individuality of each team member calls for some amount of personalization in the way you relate to them. That holds true for any workplace. The need for specialization is even more pronounced in baseball.

Think it's important to treat everyone exactly the same? Why on earth would Quade do that? The Cubs don't pay everyone the same. Alfonso Soriano makes about 45 times as much money as Blake DeWitt. If Mike Quade wants to use playing time to send a message stronger than that, he'll have to bench Soriano until the year 2078. If he wants to send a real message, however, he needs to communicate like an adult.

Some people viewed Starlin Castro's benching last year as a punitive act, but I think Quade's decision was a bit more sophisticated than that. A player will respond to his own mistakes much differently when he's 20 than when he's 35. The time off gave Castro a chance to slow down his reaction and deal with it thoughtfully (or "reflect," as Quade put it). I don't know if it was the right move, but it was a thoughtful one, not the loud-mouthed, drill-sergeant approach Rosenbloom is calling for.

Benching Ramirez and Soriano would do nothing but disrespect them. Beat reporters, columnists, and bloggers have no obligation to show respect to players, but Mike Quade does. Treating multi-millionaires (or $400,000-aires, for that matter) like children isn't macho, it's mindless. I'm glad Mike Quade understands that.

Half Decent: Setting Expectations for the 2011 Cubs (pt. 1)

When I was in high school, one of the youth leaders at my church routinely discussed three topics more than any other: the unholy trilogy of sex, drugs, and rock & roll. It really didn't matter what biblical story or teaching we were covering, the focus was almost always redirected to the condemnation of one or more of those three vices.

I remember one lesson in particular in which we were told that physical attraction should be the least of our concerns when deciding who to date or court or arrange a marriage with. While anyone who has ever been in a relationship can attest that appearance isn't the most important attribute in a significant other, trying to tell a teenager to ignore it completely is like persuading a shark to eschew seafood.

After hearing variations on the diatribe for a few weeks, all the members of my youth group knew the answers we were supposed to be giving and that they directly conflicted with the protests of our hormones. So when our teacher asked us what qualities we would look for in a potential boyfriend or girlfriend, my fellow classmate Dwight Stowers attempted a compromise between the proffered high moral ground and his basic primal urges into a succinct summation of what he wanted in a woman:

"Half decent?"

As Cub fans, we find ourselves in a similar struggle between what we want and what the baseball gods are telling us we can have. While by no means immoral, it's looking pretty unrealistic that fans of baseball on Chicago's North Side will ever find ourselves in a long-term relationship with a 10—but is it too much to ask for a 6 or 7?

In Our Own Image

Even I can run hard out of the box (which would be odd after a strikeout).

They make millions of dollars a year. They get paid those millions to play the game we love. They should consider themselves lucky to be professional baseball players and collect the hard earned money we shell out to watch them play the game we love. The least these players can do is to try their best.

Except, actually, that's not the least they can do—that's the most we could do. If we (and by we, I mean society . . . specifically the non-professional baseball playing segment of it) were to play baseball in the majors, we would absolutely suck. We wouldn't be able to hit. We wouldn't be able to pitch. We wouldn't be able to hit the cutoff man. But we could try really hard. We could run out our ground-outs and pop-ups. We could make smart decisions. We could hustle. We could not admire our non-homers. We could dirty our uniforms. We could be scrappy.

For fans who wish we could play, it's hard to forgive a multimillionaire for failing to do the things we know we could do or for making the mistakes we know we could avoid. So when Alfonso Soriano or Aramis Ramirez don't sprint out of the batter's box or when Ryan Theriot gets TOOTBLAN'd or when Lou decides John Grabow should pitch in a game we think the Cubs have a chance to win, we self-respecting Cub fans get a bit angry. I've been trying to figure out the reason behind the outrage, and the conclusion I've come to doesn't reflect on us all too well.

Nothing to See Here. So Let's Do the Wave!

On Saturday, the wave broke out at Wrigley Field. This punky, spray-tanned castoff from the set of Swingers (not Vince Vaughn) served as cheerleader  drum major  douchemaster  moron-in-chief, eliciting a chorus of boos from dozens of onlookers . . . and, you know, the wave from tens of thousands of witless drones.

It's bad enough this happened at Wrigley. Fans do a lot of unforgivable things in Wrigley. They throw peanuts at fans of opposing teams, even if it's the team opposing the Blackhawks later that weekend. They stand on the ramps leading to the upper deck and toss food and water down onto the fans below. They hurl racial epithets at their favorite players. I guess they project quite a few things into the air, but usually they have the good sense not to include a successive parade of their butt-scratching hands in the mix. But here's what made it worse:

All this went down with one out in the eighth inning of a tie ball game with the potential (and eventually the actual) game-tying run at second base. The wave is supposed to be the designated pastime of fans who have become bored with the actual national pastime. But to interrupt the most critical turning point in the game by conjuring the demonic ritual of wavus stupidus maximus takes some serious juevos (and just an extraordinary surplus of dumb). You're telling me there was nothing else to grab the attention of these buffoons?

Allow me to offer up a photodump of evidence to the contrary:

Vince Vaughn set the tone by aiming for the upper deck with his ceremonial first pitch.

Zambrano and Soriano: Vastly Underpaid Cubs

Fonzie and Zambrano: I dub thee, FonZ.

If you've read the headline and the photo caption, you already think I'm either kidding or out of my mind. I'm not kidding. Carlos Zambrano and Alfonso Soriano are vastly underpaid.

Anyone who has been watching over the past couple of seasons (and does not bear the surname Zambrano or Soriano) would dismiss this notion with all the scoffing he or she or it could muster. Carlos Zambrano is in the middle of a five-year, $91.5 million contract. Alfonso Soriano is still in the first half of an eight-year, $136 million contract. Soriano is a bum. Zambrano is cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. The same labels must apply to anyone who would insinuate either one of them is worth that much money, let alone underpaid. It's as simple as that.

Then allow me to oversimplify matters. Let's look at how valuable Zambrano and Soriano have been over their careers according to what kind of salary they would have commanded on the free agent market every year. A caveat: no player makes his worth on the free-agent market. Well, few players. For every Jeff Samardzija signing an exorbitant deal before ever playing a major league game there are dozens of youngsters thriving in the majors for less than they are worth until they can break through the arbitrated ceiling of collusion. 

But let's just say Carlos and Alfonso could have had an exception where each year they were able to sign a free-agent contract based on their previous year's accomplishments. I'll use one resource to keep it simple: Fangraphs.

Fangraphs uses a player's offensive and defensive contributions (though for pitchers they use strictly their pitching numbers, an oversight that undervalues Zambrano's contributions) to calculate Runs Above Replacement (RAR), Wins Above Replacement (WAR), and the player's free-agent value according to the going rate per expected win. You can read more about their methodology in their more-than-thorough explanatory series.

Let's take a look at Soriano's career numbers compared to the theoretical replacement player (of which the Cubs farm system has had myriad candidates . . . that's not a compliment).

Alfonso Soriano's value is, contrary to Cubs fans' belief, greater than 12 cents.

 The bottom right-hand corner is probably making you swear a little bit. If he could have made free-agent dollars his entire career, Soriano would have earned $93 million, and he's only been paid $48.3 million? That can't be right. Well, it's not entirely right. Fangraphs has pro-rated his $8 million signing bonus with the Cubs across all eight years of his contract, but his total salary numbers don't yet include 2009, in which he made $16 million, 17 if you include the signing-bonus pro-ration. That would bring his total salary earned to $65.3 million. Add to that the fact that he's probably already made in excess of $1 million this year (whoa, I know) and we can put his real salary for his career at a nice even (and evil) $66.6 million. 

I want to draw your attention specifically to 2007. Soriano made $10 million that year and was worth $22.8 million. Remember that? Cubs won the division? Went to the playoffs (and went home unceremoniously)? That $12.8 million savings (yes, savings) allowed the Cubs to also sign Ted Lilly, Mark DeRosa, and Jason Marquis. Remember that? And do you remember 2008, when Soriano made $14 million and was worth . . . $14 million? The Cubs were pretty good that year, too. 

There's no getting around the atrocity that was Soriano's 2009, so I won't try to. Fangraphs says the Fonz was worth -$3.2 million as a free agent, which I guess means he could have found a team who would pay him $3.2 million to not play for them. That's pretty much as bad as you can be. At that point, Soriano crossed the overpaid line to the tune of $7.4 million. Even if he recovers, Soriano can't be expected to live up to his $18 million a year salary over the next 5 years.

But my point is this: up to this point, Soriano has been worth $26.4 million more than he has been paid over the course of his career. Yes, he may close that gap very shortly, but consider this: as restrictive as you might think his current salary might be on the Cubs' ability to sign free agents next year, the backloaded nature of his contract (and his outstanding play) put the Cubs in prime position to compete for a World Series championship in 2007 and 2008. In my opinion, that was worth the $18 mill/5 yr gamble. Now on to the Z half of FonZ.

Big Z. Big value. Relatively small salary.

Zambrano also signed a signing bonus that can be pro-rated as $1 million per year for each year in his current 5-year plan, so we can add $18.75 million for 2009. That puts Carlos's career worth through 2009 at $98.5 million and his actual salary at $58.25. Two things to add to that: 1) unlike Soriano, Zambrano's true bargain-basement days were also spent with the Cubs (he brought $28.2 million of worth before ever breaking the million-dollar level in total salary on the major-league level); 2) these value numbers don't include hitting, and Carlos's bat has been worth quite a few Runs Above Replacement at his position, a ridiculous amount that should put his free-agent value several million dollars higher over the course of his career.

Probably the most shocking thing to Cubs fans would be the 2009 value: Carlos was worth $16.2 million last year! Granted, he's being paid to be worth more than that and his offensive contributions probably only would close half of that gap. But even missing time to injury and failing to reach 200 innings for the second consecutive season, Carlos is worth a boatload of money. Deemed a failure by almost everyone, Carlos's 2009 was his most valuable in terms of net worth (not adjusted for inflation) of his entire career! In terms of WAR, it was his best season since '06. Call him not an ace. Call him a head case. He is dead valuable to this team, even if he was ridiculously unlucky last year.

Z just had a hard luck year, and this year isn't shaping up to be any luckier. Bloop hits, bad defense, and poor run support have conspired to reduce Carlos's win total, but none of that makes him any less valuable.

In sum, FonZ might not be worth what they'll make over the next several years, but in the big picture, these have been two players who have been vastly underpaid and extremely overcriticized. They both gave the Cubs a great shot at a World Series and could do so again. You'd think the world's greatest fans would appreciate that.

Alfonso and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

It takes one to know one, apparently. photo adapted from colour-fool

Never in all my life have I laughed so hysterically at booing. Usually I frown on fans booing their own team or the players for whom they would normally cheer. I'm not sure what the desired effect is. Motivation? Vengeance? Catharsis? A chance to extol the virtues of the First Amendment, which allows us all the freedom to voice our thoughts in unintelligible groans to the full extent of our stupidity? Outside of maybe one of those options, I don't think it works. If anything, it seems entirely counterproductive to the entire fan experience.

All of this is decidedly beside the point, because the jeers I heard yesterday were so hilarious. I watched and listened as a grizzled, disheveled man with trademark Kelly Leak sunglasses, a scraggly neck beard, and his own personal atmospheric system (consisting of nothing but alcohol fumes, body odor, and what I can only assume was the aroma of madly cavorting head lice) made his opinions of each and every Cubs player known to the world. He was a bit louder than most, but he obviously wasn't alone; this is standard player introduction protocol. Ted Lilly and his non-setback back probably received the loudest ovation. Big Z wins the award for mixed receptions. But when Soriano's name was announced, Shower McStinky had the quote of the day:

"Soriano is a BUM!!!!"

Peals. Of. Laughter. I mean, the guy was dead serious, but I couldn't stop giggling. This man, who looked as though he were dressing up as Homelessness Incarnate for Halloween, was calling Alfonso Soriano, who will make $18 million a year through the 2014 season, a bum. It was kind of like when that grimy old lady called Buttercup the Queen of Putrescence.



But I understood the general sentiment, all comedy aside. Soriano had pretty much given the previous game away by failing to catch a fly ball that hit him in the glove. It may have been poor word choice, but I don't begrudge the angst of the vagrant in training. But that was before the game.

I fail to understand, however, the complaints about Soriano after he went 2 for 4 with a run scored and a scorching line drive that almost put a baseball-shaped hole in Casey McGehee. It was right at the guy and absolutely uncatchable. But of course he struck out and didn't run to first after the ball hit the dirt (maybe because he didn't actually swing). So boooooo.

The fans weren't alone in their inexplicable overreactions, however. Barry Rozner laments Soriano's dreadful 2-for-4 performance with disgust intermingled with relief that a Cubs source said Fonzy has to bring something to the table or else. In a scathing chastisement of Soriano's how-dare-he media evasion, Gordon Wittenmyer finds it titillating and scandalous that Soriano was removed from the game with the Cubs protecting a 9-4 lead heading into the 7th. ZOMDR!

Is this what it's come to, people? A guy has a good game, and he gets skewered? Just because an outfielder doesn't want to talk to a horde of petulant, seething junior-high media members you feel the need to change the facts on his performance? Rozner called Soriano's I'm-gonna-get-you-sucka line smash a soft infield single. Wittenmyer pretended to know why Soriano didn't talk to the media (because he was mad about being removed for defensive purposes . . .  I think it's because he's dating Elin Woods, did you hear?).

It might be a bit too early to judge the Cubs or any one player this season, but I'm not holding out hope that the media learns how to behave like real journalists, let alone adults. Maybe the fans can make better progress and actually judge things according to reality and not what they hear on TMZ in the papers.

2010 Cubs Predictions: They're NOT Gonna Happen

More optimistic than psychic, all hope and no sense, these predictions are guaranteed never to come true. But if even one does, I will brag about it for the rest of my life. Tribune photo by Zbigniew Bzdak (Also posted at LOHO)

This is the last worthless weekend that we'll have to spend. All introductory east-coast-biased Sunday Night Baseball aside (that's right, Yankees and Red Sox, we don't care what happens between the two of you, no matter how much Joe Morgan insists that we must), Monday marks the dawn of the 2010 baseball season. So we're running out of time to make bold  educated  sabermetrically generated half-baked predictions for what the Cubs will be able to accomplish this year.

If the LOHO NCAA Pick 'Em Challenge has taught us anything, it's that my annual tradition of picking Kansas to win it all is guaranteed to go dreadfully wrong every year (except in the occasional instance when I break from tradition and allow them to succeed . . . sorry, Jayhawks). And if it has taught us two things, it's that I suck at predicting things. So here is a list of things I'm utterly confident will not happen, which is precisely why I am prognosticating that they will:

Alfonso Soriano will hit 40 homers. Do you remember last April? Soriano started the season hotter than a Gatorade-machine-bashing tantrum. And then he decided to test his knee reflex on the left-field wall. I'm hoping it was the injury that caused the precipitous production decline and not a failure to renew some Faustian deal with the devil. If I'm wrong (and I usually am) we'll be seeing more of Tyler Colvin in left than anyone is really hoping to get. (Tyler Colvin's mom excluded, of course.) If I'm right, Wrigley could be hosting its fair share of October baseball.

Random Cubs Facts, Opinions, Fabrications, and Outright Diversions

Firing Jim Hendry is a bad idea.

Jay Leno is not as unfunny as people give him discredit for. He's also not as funny as Conan.

1998 was the best year of my adult life. The home run race was a part (nowhere near all) of that. I wouldn't change a thing.

If the Cubs win the World Series this year by cheating, I will celebrate until I collapse in an unethical heap of exasperation.

If the Cubs win the World Series this year through methods of interrogative torture that cross lines even Jack Bauer wouldn't step over, I would have second thoughts.

I do not endorse cheating, torture, illegal steroid use, or the designated hitter.

Wrigley Field is unique and one of my favorite places in the world. So is the house I grew up in, but I'm glad my parents remodeled.

If Wrigley had a JumboTron that could replay controversial calls, they'd have to stop the game every other inning to rid the playing field of angrily discarded beer cups.

Everyone's at least a little racist.

Ryan Theriot isn't getting any better.

Put an @ before someone's user name to make sure they read your tweet. Use @@ to attack them with a giant 4-legged robot.

Going two-sies in the Wrigley troughs is a breach of etiquette.

The best Cubs-related movie of all time is Die Hard.

Dick Stockton will be the play-by-play guy for every Cubs 1st-round playoff game from now until the end of time.

I looked up the word curse in the dictionary, and I don't see a single definition that doesn't apply to the Cubs.

I love the Cubs, I hate the Cardinals, but to each his or her own.

Former players are entitled to their opinions about steroids, but I expect them to be no more objective than they were when they argued with umpires.

Parking at Wrigley has the exact same cost-to-pain ratio as getting a root canal.

Just once I'd like to catch a foul ball at Wrigley Field.

Alfonso Soriano will be great again.

Carlos Zambrano is the best Cubs pitcher, and he's worth every penny.

The Cubs will win it all in my lifetime.

I am not to be trusted.

The (Off) Season of Sharing

While things have been fairly slow on the Cubbie front, it's been anything but in the offices of And Counting. Don't let the recent post stoppage fool you. I've been working like a dog (mostly on things of no interest to you whatsoever). And I've also been lending my services to a couple of other blogs I think will be of interest to you.

First there's the Cubs blog of epic renown, A League of Her Own (affectionately known as LOHO or Cubhalla). I'll be posting there on my patented irregular basis, beginning with this weekend's look into potential candidates to join Rudy Jaramillo on staff with the Cubs. There's an inspiring cast of regular contributers and discussion generators over there, and I highly recommend making it a regular stop on your quest to flee productivity.

I've also begun contributing to a growing Chicago sports site, 312 Sports, where I just posted a somewhat statistical look at Rudy's effect on Soriano while in Texas.

I'm thrilled, honored, and falsely humbled to be a part of both blogs and to expose even more people to my verbose rants and musings. I won't stop posting unique content here, but in the spirit of sharing I thought I'd begin a new trend of highlighting great content from other Cubs sites. Here's a link from a blog I thoroughly enjoy, waxpaperbeercup, who offers some encouraging news on Starlin Castro, a rising star in the Cub farm system (who also is one letter away from being named after two dictators).

Alfonso's Oil

In Paul Sullivan's latest bout of actual news, he writes that Alfonso Soriano's knee might be in for some serious treatment. Or it might not. The Cubs are considering subjecting the most tragically expensive knee in the Chicagoverse to arthroscopic surgery that would sideline him for *gasp* two weeks.

Or they won't. For now, Soriano's just getting the continued therapy and workout sessions that have worked such wonderful magic thus far.

Not that it matters. The playoff picture doesn't have the Cubs in it right now. I believe in divine intervention, so I'm not ruling out anything. But surgery seems like the best option . . . for Soriano or just about anybody who thinks extra stretching and ice baths are gonna fix this multi-million-dollar problem.

You Can Schedule a Make-Up Game, But You Can't Make Them Play

In a display of passive-aggressive nonviolence, the Cubs staged a sit-in at Wrigley Field today.

Said Alfonso Soriano, "We were promised a day off on September 3, and a day off we shall have."

The Cubs adamantly refused to raise a glove in defense or a bat in anger. Seen pacing placidly in the dugout, Lou Piniella seemed to understand the protest, even if he didn't agree with the tenets of the players' beliefs.

"Look, I'm not the Dalai Lama.You gotta talk to the players about that. We've seen our fair share of good baseball this year, and we've had some bad baseball. That . . . I don't know what that was, but it wasn't baseball."

The White Sox seemed just as confused as anyone. At first, they didn't realize they were allowed to score while the Cubs weren't playing. But by the middle innings, a few White Sox leisurely circled the bases, some of them with their wives, children, and pets. Ozzie Guillen was, predictably, the only South Sider who wasn't left speechless.

"I don't know what they were doing, but I figure, why not win a game if they're gonna let you? It was like that scene outta Bad News Bears when the coach's kid hangs on to the ball and the fat catcher runs around the bases, you know? Hey, we tried to give up some runs just to make it look real, but I don't think Lou wanted to let that happen. He put Aaron Miles at the plate. I don't know how to let Aaron Miles score a run. We're not allowed to put a tee out there and he's too small to try to hit with a pitch. It's not my problem. Let the Ricketts family sort that out."

It is not yet known whether Aaron Miles was in on the civil disobedience or if he was simply doing his best to reach base. As for the rest of the team, they plan to return to their baseball playing duties tomorrow after the team travels to New York to play the Mets.

Ten Things Cub Fans Can Still Look Forward to in 2009

It ain't over 'til it's over. You can take that truthism as a blessing or a curse, depending on your state of perpetual hope or interminable anguish. On the positive side, here are 10 things we still have to look forward to in a season most of us wish would just die already:

10. The return of Bobby Scales. It's hard to remember the adrenaline shot the substitute teacher gave the Cubbies in his last fill-in stint in the majors, but I seem to recall feeling happy for a few days. I'd welcome another dose right now.

9. The unconditional release of Aaron Miles. I hope life treats him kind, and I hope he has all he dreams of. I wish him joy and happiness, but above all this, I wish . . . he was gone. And I-yee-I-ee-I will always *deep breath* loathe you-whooooo, and I will always . . . sing it, Whitney.

8. The sale of the team. It's still not over. It won't guarantee success. It won't become final final until after the season is done. But I can't wait to put the biggest distraction of the season (yes, even bigger than Milton Bradley) behind us.

7. One more game against the White Sox. Losing will be fuel on the depressing fire. Winning will do little to lift my spirits. But when the game goes down on Thursday . . . aw heck, never mind. I'm not looking forward to this at all. I hate it when we play the Sox pre-October.

6. The Wild Card. Will the Cubs win the wild card? Probably not. But the wild card race should be fun to watch. The National League is really just not very good this year, which makes that last playoff spot all the easier to grab. I'm not so much of a purist that I don't enjoy a whole scrum of teams battling over a playoff spot they don't deserve.

5. The eruption of Mt. Lou. You. Know. It's. Going. To. Happen. I'll bring the popcorn.

4. Randy Wells. I'm genuinely excited to see how Randy Wells finishes out this year. He may have seen his Rookie of the Year chances sail into the left-field bleachers, but he still has a chance to reach the teens in wins.

3. Aaron Milesless baseball. Even if he doesn't get released, the expanded September roster now gives Lou no excuse whatsoever to ever put Aaron Miles on the playing field. If I see him so much as lift the Hello Kitty backpack, I'm launching an investigation into Lou's sanity.

2. Da Bearsssss. Bearss. Ditka. Cutler. Bearss.

1. That guy. Somebody always has a good September. A lot of times it's Soriano. Soto had some good moments in last year's last month. In case you forgot, many people were ready to write off Zambrano's 2008 until his no-no on September 14. It might not save the Cubs. It might not add to the wild card drama. But there will be somebody who makes September memorable.

It's reason enough for me to keep watching.

I Just Saved $150 Million on My Baseball Team

There's no shortage of articles about how Sam Zell botched (yes, they all use the word botched) the sale of our beloved Cubs. Most of them focus on Zell and his foolish attempt to sell Wrigley separately like a spare part, the convoluted broadcasting contracts that further slowed the deal, and the $150 million price drop to $845 million from the astronomical billion-dollar milestone the baseball/business world had anticipated.

But who cares about Zell? When the sale finally goes through (and I'm sick and tired of people positing that it is final—it still has to clear the bankruptcy court on 8/31 and the MLB owners, possibly at meetings in November) Sam Zell will be a distant memory, no less forgettable than Chris Stynes.

What I care about is the Ricketts family and the $155 million they saved on this deal.

I know that right now I sound a lot like my wife when she returns from Kohl's, although the most she's ever saved on one trip, I believe, is $60 million. But the Ricketts just saved 15% on the Cubs. Just imagine if they had received the 20% or 30% coupon in the mail!

What could the Ricketts do with $155 million? Pay the players for one whole year. Woo hoo! Or they could forgo the savings and double the payroll (minus a couple bucks in luxury tax). Heck, he could send the entire outfield (Soriano, Fukudome, and Milton Bradley) to a deserted island with their 2010 salaries and still have $115 million. Okay, the fact that those three will make $40 million ($18 mill, $13 mill, and $9 mill respectively) is a little depressing.

Look, I know that in this economy, spending $845 million isn't easy on anybody. But Zell owning this team may have just finally paid off, thanks to the same terrible business sense that led him to buy the Chicago Tribune Company in the first place.

Maybe, just maybe, we can afford to pay for (and move on from) some costly contractual mistakes.

Chicago Cubs: Your Prescription Is Ready

Bob Brenly and my sister both randomly suggested that the Washington Nationals' W reminds them of Walgreens every time they see it. The Chicago Cubs would tend to agree.

A four-game series against a bad pitching staff with even worse pitching behind them is exactly what the doctor ordered. The Cubs' ailing offense seems to have been cured. Alfonso Soriano is over his swollen pinky, his curveballitis, and his severe allergy to hitting with runners on base. Mike Fontenot has rediscovered the bleachers. And as a team, the Cubs are on the verge of sweeping the four-game set.

The question still remains: will the Cubs resume their magnetic plunge to .500 when they face the Phillies, or will they finally break free from the gravitational pull of the break-even point?

The good news is that despite their overall record of 50-38 (pending today's outcome against the Marlins) the Phillies are actually a game under .500 at home. We could be looking at a very enjoyable homestand, and no matter what happens, the Cubs will finish the trip with a winning record.

Though the history of this season tells me otherwise, I'm thinking this jaunt into our nation's capital could prove to be more than just temporary relief for the Cubs' bats. Let's hope.

Cubs' Injured as Numerous as All Stars in the Sky

With injuries sidelining Ted Lilly and Alfonso Soriano for at least a few days, the Cubs are close to fielding a team of All Stars who have missed time this year due to injury. Check out this list of Cubs All-Stars (mostly of past years, obviously) who have been bitten by the ravenous injury bug at some point this year:

Milton Bradley

Ryan Dempster

Derrek Lee

Ted Lilly

Carlos Marmol

Aramis Ramirez

Alfonso Soriano

Geovany Soto

Carlos Zambrano

Am I missing anyone? Again, this isn't the list of Cubs who have been injured. This is the list of Cubs All Stars who have been injured. Cub All Stars have been injured nine times. Nine times! Granted, when they've been healthy, they haven't played like All Stars this year, but the Cubs can ill-afford to lose anymore players of this calibre for any length of time.

Hopefully Ted Theodore Lilly (esquire) can plow through this injury like so many Molina brothers. But for now, the Cubs really should be thanking their unlucky All Stars they're still in this pennant race.

You asked for it. Now has Lou gone too far?

It seems like just a few weeks ago, the Cub community was practically begging Lou to let his inner rageaholic erupt all over the friendly confines. And in the last couple of weeks, we've seen the Old Lou rearing his steaming little puce head.

He got ejected arguing a blown call at 1st base that cost the Cubs a rare 2-out run. Everybody loved that one.

Lou was overheard calling Milton Bradley a piece of tin (Ferris Bueller dubbed-for-TV version). Milton was overheard responding with respect and *gasp* self-control. Even though 98% of the city of Chicago has been overheard calling Milton Bradley a piece of tin, I don't think anybody can genuinely call that appropriate employer-employee communication. What's worse, instead of declaring a genuine public apology, Lou told us that he and Milton talked and then issued a classic theya culpa in which he blamed the rats in U.S. Cellular for leaking the outburst.

And before the dreadful finale against the Braves, Lou pulled Soriano out of the lineup without letting him know his underperforming butt would be riding the bench. Soriano was none too happy to be led astray, although he had no intentions of discussing it with Lou. The conventional wisdom says that the chronically slumping prima donna has no business being upset, especially if he's not willing to confront Lou about it. This is one of those frequent instances in which I find the conventional wisdom to be full of crap.

A) Soriano gets paid too much to be benched willy nilly. One of the downsides of giving athletes mega-million-dollar contracts is that it forces you to have to deal with rich people who won't take your crap. B) The only way Soriano doesn't get upset about an unannounced benching is if he doesn't care. He definitely gets paid too much not to care, and most fans have been complaining he doesn't care enough. C) Whether they're stock clerks or left fielders, people expect consistent treatment from their managers. Unexpected frostiness always ticks off employees, especially really, really rich ones.

All that said, it isn't clear that Piniella being a jerk is the wrong move. Maybe he got through to Milton Bradley. Maybe he's lit a fire under Soriano. The trouble is, if Lou keeps going to the jerk well, eventually players' tolerance will dry up. I wonder if the pre-game drama may have affected the team during that last game against the Braves. Scoff if you will, but I don't doubt that Soriano getting jilted could have put the whole lineup on edge. His post-game tirade may have pushed some players over that edge.

The thing is, Lou gave a great answer, in essence, to the redundant questions about the lagging offense. Absent of emotion, Lou's answer to the press was just, "Hey, you keep asking me why guys aren't hitting, and you're asking the wrong guy. I don't hit, and I don't instruct guys how to hit. As journalists, you really ought to direct your questions to the appropriate parties." But that's not how the media, fans, and (perhaps) players may have interpreted it.

Most fans and media seem to think Lou was heaving blame on the players and hitting coach, Von Joshua. I don't think that's what Lou was doing, but if the players think he's ripping into them and a guy the younger players have liked and respected for a long time . . . they might shut down. But with this offense, could we even tell the difference.

Step Back, Folks, This Is Baseball

Okay, the Cubs lost. They looked bad. The offense. Soriano's mad. Lou's fed up. Dempster's toe. Geo may have proven Rod Beck wrong and actually pulled fat. And it's getting old saying, Hey, we're only 3 games out of first.

But enough with the angst, people. This is baseball. When it goes well, let's enjoy. When it doesn't, enjoy something else.

I realize I picked the wrong year to start blogging about the Cubs. And that's okay. Maybe it's just teaching me to accept the fact that this is just a game. An infuriating game, at times, yes. But getting angry or jaded or drunk or vindictive does not make me a better fan. Booing doesn't make you a better fan. Booing only draws attention to the fact that your hopes are pinned to someone who, while stinking up the place, is still infinitely better than you ever were or could ever hope to be at your dream. Don't bring yourself to that realization, people. Leave that pile of pathetic just a shade beyond your sphere of awareness.

Let the Cubs be your stuffed tiger. One day, that championship team we all envision in our heads will spring to life for real so everyone else can see it. But for now, just enjoy the delusion. Chill. Enjoy. Move on.

Solution: Platoon the Whole Outfield

Sam Fuld hit neither of the 2 Cub homers in tonight's 4-1 win over the Pirates, but he just may have won the game for the Cubs. In place of Soriano in left and in the leadoff spot, Fuld was on base all night, he made a handful of spectacular plays in the field, and he threw out a potential game-tying run at the plate. With a right-handed pitcher on the mound, is there any reason the left-handed Fuld shouldn't be back in this same spot?

Kosuke Fukudome homered tonight, and I hope he's breaking out of his perpetual post-May slump. But when Reed Johnson returns from the DL, is there any reason Kosuke should start against lefties?

As a lefty, Milton Bradley looked pretty decent tonight. And if he resurrects his 2009 season, God bless him. But we've seen Hoffpauir hit against righties, and the results have certainly been better than the MB debacle. Even Jake Fox as a righty would look better against RHP's than what we've seen from Milton, and once Aramis Ramirez returns, it would be a shame to see Fox exit completely from the starting lineup. So . . . would a Milton/Fox/Hoff platoon really be such a bad idea?

Now, as Lou was getting ejected in tonight's game, I had a sneaking suspicion that what really set him off was the 1st base ump's intimation that Lou should have sat Soriano about a week ago. (Aside: Milton and Carlos take note, Lou always takes his hat off when launching into a tirade to avoid inadvertent bumps and the suspensions and fines that accompany them.) So it is with meager hesitation that I toss this suggestion in Lou's general direction. But why not consider it, Your Sweetness?

Platoon the whole outfield. Soriano, Johnson, and Bradley against the lefties; Fuld, Fukudome, and Fox/Hoff (the all f-bomb squad) against the righties. Could it really go any worse than what we've suffered through?

Which Chicago Cub Are You? (It's Scarily Accurate)

I hate those Facebook quizzes that make you answer five questions about something as arbitrary as your affinity for or aversion to cured meats and then proceed to tell you which Saved by the Bell character you are. First of all, the questions are always multiple choices, and all of the choices usually stink. Second of all, I am so not Kelly Kapowski.

But I think there's potential in a "Which Chicago Cub Are You?" quiz, because this team is loaded with personalities I recognize from high school, former workplaces, and maybe a family reunion or two. I've probably seen flashes of Milton Bradley in my own mirror . . . partly because I can be moody, too, or perhaps because he's stalking me for making fun of him. Either way, here are some of the possible results. See if any of these people sound familiar outside of Cubdom:

You are Carlos Zambrano. You have loads of potential and unlimited passion for everything you do. You're the life of the party and you love to have fun. But sometimes your passion and intensity get the best of you, causing you to lose focus, lose control, and even lose a few friends. Your friends love you, your enemies fear you, but you have everyone's attention.

You are Milton Bradley. You want nothing more to succeed, and some day that might happen. But you are easily hurt both emotionally and physically. Some people perform better when they're angry; you are not some people. Those close to you regard you as the ultimate team player who is willing to do whatever it takes to win. Those not close to you have good reason. Still, you have plenty of skill just waiting to emerge, and if you're surrounded by people who believe in you, you will be a shining star.

You are Ted Lilly. You generally let your actions speak louder than your words, which is good—saying, "I'm better than you, and you like it," out loud can be rather unbecoming. What you lack in talent you more than make up for with fierce determination and skin as thick as rhino armor. Outside of a Cub uniform or a bar fight, most people wouldn't recognize you in public. You also have a bit of a temper, but you can usually focus that productively. In those moments when you can't, people know better than to get in your way.

You are Derrek Lee. You're a gentle giant, smart, debonair, quick as a fox, and strong as an ox. Not easily ruffled, you measure your words, your responses, and your emotions. You lead not with speeches but by example. You keep things at an even keel, except when you're exploding on a fastball over the plate or pouncing on a screaming line drive headed for the right field corner. Some people wish you'd be more outspoken and demonstrative, but you're big and strong enough not to have to care what some people wish for.

You are Alfonso Soriano. When it comes to performance, you're a human roller coaster, although you never wear your emotions on your sleeve. When you find you're groove, there are none better, but when you get stuck in a rut . . . well, there are few worse. Your preferences and quirks have earned you a reputation as a prima donna, mostly undeserved. It's not your fault if you get preferential treatment, you earned it? Your flair for the dramatic can, unfortunately, fizzle out on occasion. And your easy going style sometimes comes off as lackadaisical. But if you just keep walking softly and carrying a big stick, eventually, people will appreciate your even bigger upside.

You are Ryan Theriot. People don't expect much from you at first, but you thrive on sneaking up on them with your scrappy, fiery approach. You work hard, play hard, laugh hard, and die hard. You try to be blue collar, you really do, but you just can't seem to shed the image of the consensus clubhouse leader. Your biggest weakness just may be a propensity to forget how hard you have to work. Success will never come naturally for you; but when you chase it, it will never outrun you, either.

You are Ryan Dempster. You're a complete goofball, and a scream at parties. But when you're at work, you're all business. Maybe people underestimate you because of your antics, but your professionalism will make short work of any doubters. You thrive on positive vibes and encouragement in a friendly environment, and conversely sometimes falter under intense pressure or adverse conditions. Focus is your best friend; lose it and you will wilt, but maintain it and you will dominate.

You are Lou Piniella. You know perfectly well who you are, and if I try to tell you, you'll shoot a glare at me that says in no uncertain (yet silent) terms, "Shut up or I'll bludgeon you with Santo's prosthetic." Next.

You are Ron Santo. You are 100% emotion. You rise and fall with the performance of those you hold most dear. People thrive on your emotion and sometimes laugh at the pure theater of your reactions. You deserve to be in the Hall of Fame, but this world sucks sometimes.

You are Carlos Marmol. You are equal parts wild, untouchable, breathtaking, and heartstopping. No one can control you . . . even you can't control you. But can you grasp the wind and put it in your pocket? Can you put sunshine in a bottle? Can you tie a rainbow into a knot and tell it, "Stop being colorful"? No. Such is Marmol.

Okay, you get it. I'm not going to go through the entire 40-man roster, front office, and broadcasting booth. Maybe you could help me fill in the blanks. Go ahead, channel your inner Carrie Muskat.