Another disappearing act for Sosa
October 4, 2004
BY JAY MARIOTTI SUN-TIMES COLUMNIST
All that was missing were flying chunks of upper-deck concrete. Wrigley Field was crumbling Sunday, trembling amid the post-choke fallout from A Season of Mess, to quote the Rev. Johnnie B. It should shock no one that the most pathetic designated baby yet, inside baseball's nuttiest clubhouse, was Sammy Sosa.
Now, the asylum has finality, if also an impending winter of chaos and change.
There was Sosa, taking the most fraudulent day off since Ferris Bueller. There was the self-proclaimed gladiator, claiming to be ill, showing up late, seething over Dusty Baker's pregame criticism that he needs to be better prepared next season, failing to change into uniform, then reportedly leaving the park before the first pitch.
His actions, of course, are indefensible. Bottom line is, Sulkin' Sammy quit on the Cubs on the final afternoon of their miserable, choking-dog season. That made him a world-class hypocrite when he told the Sun-Times' Mike Kiley hours later, ''I'm tired of being blamed by Dusty Baker for all the failures of this club. I resent the inference that I'm not prepared. I live my life every minute every day to prepare for combat.''
If the war metaphors weren't painful enough, Sosa's mixed messages served only to reinforce the theme of my column Sunday: It's time to trade him and use his $17 million salary next year on wiser, healthier, younger reinforcements. His early exit angered Baker, who couldn't blame this one on the team broadcasters, and further exposed the three-time manager of the year as not having control of his clubhouse. Equally upset was general manager Jim Hendry, a development that might expedite trade talks. Maybe Sammy had a right to be quietly upset when Baker, asked if Sosa might be dealt, went public with concerns about an injury-prone, broken-down, .253-hitting, 35-year-old right fielder.
''I'd want him back if ... he's got to go to work this winter,'' Baker said. ''Get in tip-top shape mentally and physically. It's a big year for him.''
But Sosa had absolutely no right to go home. A gladiator never runs out on his teammates on the symbolic last day. He should have been in right field for the fans he purports to love, the players he annoys with his boom-box music and the manager who stuck by him when he was slumping throughout the second half. He should have been there for the organization that gave him $72 million over four years. He should have been there for his heart taps, his blown kisses, his legacy.
Now, he looks like a con man. Unless he apologizes quickly, such as today, Sosa has made it very easy for the Cubs to trade him.
All of which came on a day when Baker and the Fakers finally got something done. They can claim they contributed to running Chip Caray and perhaps The Evil Stoney out of town, which not only angers a cantankerous grandfather in the sky but underscores the sensitive, tight-sphinctered, rabbit-eared nature of Baker and some of his players.
With Caray's departure to a more professional organization in Atlanta, where the ultrasuccessful Braves bosses never would allow these clubhouse-vs.-booth battles, the focus turns to Steve Stone and whether he is next to go. After all, Stone and Caray are the real villains here if you listen to a clubhouse groan that unfortunately is gaining an audience among Cubs and Tribune Co. executives. Even now, when evidence is overwhelmingly clear that Baker and his players gagged under pressure, there is a noticeable whine in the manager's voice that he and his guys were treated unfairly.
''I'm trying to hang on and put everything together on a daily basis -- and not really getting much appreciation for the job we were doing,'' moped Baker, looking for love in all the wrong places after losing seven of eight critical games. ''What we got was criticism for what we weren't doing. Hey, man, these guys busted butt.''
Poor Dusty. He's even choking on the truth that his team choked. He should know he's getting little sympathy, and that if he doesn't do a better job of dealing with Cubdom's idiosyncrasies and expectations while nipping clubhouse complaining in the bud, he'll start hearing rumblings that he should be replaced in 2006. If he thinks otherwise, Baker should replay the echoes of a seventh-inning standing ovation. It was for Stone, courtesy of thousands of fans thanking him for his blunt analysis of the club and manager in case he is fired in coming weeks.
''Stoney! Stoney!'' they chanted, as Stone waved and a smiling, lame-duck Caray applauded his partner.
Woeful as the Cubs have been through time, this was their most embarrassing year of all. To think any contending sports team would allow team broadcasters to invade its competitive consciousness and become a major part of the season -- fair, honest and sometimes soft broadcasters, I should say -- is laughable. Cincinnati Reds voice Marty Brennaman spoke for many reasonable people when he said, "I used to be a Cubs fan, but no more. They are the most alibi-ingest, whiniest, cryingest bunch of excuse-makers I've ever seen, and they just got their due.''
The leader who let the sourpuss attitudes fester and unravel was Baker. Now you understand why Stone-Caray became an explosive issue -- Baker is as thin-skinned as Moises Alou, Kent Mercker and other booth critics. When he could have calmed things down, he chose to let his clubhouse churn with tension. Caray claimed Sunday that the raging storm had nothing to do with his departure, saying the Braves made a larger offer and that he'll have an opportunity to work with his father, Skip. But the club's ''offer'' included only a small raise, an indication that he really wasn't wanted back and that Tribune Co. -- a communications conglomerate -- is siding with the clubhouse on a freedom-of-speech issue. Shame on the Tribsters.
''I'd be less than honest if I said it didn't make a long year even longer,'' Caray said of the controversies.
Which is why Stone might be gone, too. If the Tribsters intend to bring him back, why not let him know as his 2005 option dangles? I asked him if he would ease up on criticism if asked. ''If I was 21, I might. At 57, I'm set in my ways,'' Stone said.
Therein lies the lesson of the 2004 Cubs. The color analyst had a spine, the manager and his players did not. Sammy Sosa might be the most spineless of all.
