RMJ 132 June 27

FRIDAY, JUNE 27 ● Chicago, vs Cubs

Sammy Sosa signed a new four-year contract today for $42.5 million. The Cubs will have to win a pennant to justify his salary. The odds are squarely against them.

Sosa is a player of rare talent, but he is not a first-tier player. He strikes out often, walks seldom. He will drive the ball over the fence 35 to 40 times a year, but he will not be on base often when one of his teammates connects. If he got on base 45 percent of the time, like Jeff Bagwell, it would be different. 

As it is, it’s a waste of money. The Tribune Corporation, after years of fiscal sanity, has joined the asylum of bewildered owners who gamble on winning.

Yesterday, Wayne Huizenga put the Marlins up for sale. He claims that he will lose $30 million this year, despite the fact that attendance is up 35 percent.

Huizenga became impatient with the player-development process of his GM Dave Dombrowski after watching the big-ticket Braves win the NL East every year. Instead of waiting for the farm system to produce the talent, he decided to go on a free-agent spending spree.

Now he has a powerhouse team, but still in second place behind the Braves. He said that he thought the fans would pour into Pro Player Stadium and fill his bowl day after day to witness the exploits of his star-studded lineup. As it is, he will have trouble drawing three million fans for the year.

Three million! That’s still a lot of fans. By historical standards, it is fantastic. But it is not good enough to stem the flow of red ink.

He was prepared to lose a few million, but not prepared to drown. He said that it was not the players’ problem. Not the fans’ problem.

“It’s Wayne Huizenga’s problem,” he said. “If I had used the principles I use in my other business, this never would have happened.”

How can the Cubs read this story in the paper and then offer Sammy Sosa 42.5 million dollars the same day? That’s their problem.

My problem is to get Derek Bell to hit like Sammy Sosa, so that we can justify our four-year, $16 million deal. Derek has every bit as much talent as Sammy, but he does not play nearly as hard.  

 

This morning I bladed to the ballpark with Dave. Normally I don’t like working out in the morning, but skating along Lakeshore Drive is so much fun, it doesn’t feel like a workout.

The only problem is that Dave has to be the first one at the ballpark; he arrives even earlier than the coaches. We left the hotel at 8:30 and arrived at Wrigley Field at 9:00. I left tickets for my cousin, Bob Reich, and for Rick.

Judy is going to take the day off from the ballpark. I don’t blame her. She doesn’t get a whole lot of time to herself. Rick and Ryan will be ballpark buddies. Perhaps they will meet up with Bob and his son, Bobby.

 

The first thing we do when we enter the stadium — even before we go to the locker room — is to check the flags to see which way the wind is blowing. I knew from blading that the wind was not strong. Turns out it is blowing from right to left. The day is warm and sunny, however, and it should still be a hitter’s day.

Mike Hampton is going for us, and Kevin Foster for them. I feel pretty good about our chances with Hamp. He has been inconsistent, but he did win his last game, and he has pitched well here at Wrigley. Foster is a fly-ball pitcher. If he’s not extra fast today, we should launch a home run or two.

When the lineups came out, Biggio was in and Servais was out. Even with the catcher’s gear, it is better to hit than to be hit.

Hampton had some first-inning trouble today. Doug Glanville opened with a single and went to second on a balk. Replays showed that he did not balk, but I didn’t see the move well enough to say anything about it. Couldn’t have argued it anyway, without getting thrown out. You can argue about the interpretation of a rule; you cannot argue a judgment call. The umpires know the rules; when they make a mistake, it is almost always an error in judgement.

As a practical matter, you cannot argue much at all anymore without being tossed out of the game. I waited a couple of innings and then asked umpire Jerry Layne about the call between innings. He said that Mike did a slide-step toward home and then threw to first. This didn’t make sense to me, because if you slide-step to the plate and then throw to first, you will most likely fall down; Hampton didn’t even look off-balance. I checked the replay later, and Hampton did not balk.

It didn’t make much difference, because McRae walked, Sosa reached on a fielder’s choice, and Dunston doubled. The two runs would have scored anyway.

We came back with a run in the second, and Hampton settled down. He ended up pitching into the eighth inning without allowing any more runs. Unfortunately, we didn’t do anything against Foster. We kept getting hanging breaking balls to hit, and kept popping them up. Turk Wendell closed the game for the Cubs, and he was sharper than I have ever seen him.

It’s hard to take a 2-1 loss on a hitter’s day at Wrigley.

Sosa got a hit and stole a base. He is hitting .256 now, with 15 homers and 52 RBI. Bagwell is hitting .320 with 22 homers and 72 RBI. I’m glad we don’t have to re-sign him anytime soon. He’s tied up for the next four years at the bargain price of $7 million per annum.

Skating back from the park was more fun than skating over. The wind was against us, but the scenery was great. Bathing beauties, beach volleyballers, hikers and bikers, children with Popsicles®. Ladies with sun hats, street musicians, chess players, amateur preachers, and poets. Even a septuagenarian on blades.

I could live in downtown Chicago — during the summertime.

We went over to Harry Caray’s restaurant for dinner. Harry was there, and Ryan seemed to enjoy meeting him. Harry complimented Ryan on his shirt, a vintage Reyn Spooner Hawaiian model, with scenes from the ballpark.

The food was superb, the company better. Rick and Ryan spent part of the morning watching the commodities trading at the Chicago Board of Trade before going to the ballpark. Sounds like they had more action than we did. There were traders with coats of many colors.

Ryan showed me the symbols they used to convey the amounts to be bought and sold. One sign was three fingers on the bicep and a raised fist. Ryan demonstrated. It looked a lot like the universal sign that means “up yours.” We got a good laugh about that one.

“Maybe I’ll make that our bunt sign,” I said. “But then again, maybe not. Some of the guys might take it the wrong way.”