Carlos Zambrano Loses His Mind, Which Means Cubs Need to Part Ways

The concern isn't whether Carlos Zambrano can be a substantial element for a lackluster ballclub, but it's whether he can be civilized and accept the role of the finest pitcher in a shell-shocked pitching rotation.

The palpable surmise is, he can't conduct himself and loses self-control with his typical outbursts and dugout tirades, jawing at teammates amid a feud that eventually turns into barbaric tussles. What we're watching is a wacko lose his mind and throw tantrums as probably the biggest bust in Cubs history, a ballclub believed to be curse that an untaught fan base blame Chicago's 104-year championship drought on The Curse of the Billy Goat.

Maybe now, a distraught fan realizes it wasn't only Steve Bartman's fault when the disowned fan isn't permitted to show his face in public without being hackled or violently harassed. The residents in Chicago couldn't stop criticizing Bartman for the nightmarish disaster that turned rampant when he indiscreetly interfered with the nefarious foul ball he deflected.

But after the latest events of Friday night, another meltdown that could permanently damage his career with his childish immaturity dragging down the Cubs, a ballclub doomed by a downcast era, Zambrano is a toxic waste hovering over a defunct franchise that seems to have no discipline nor the upper hand.

The Rickettes epitaph merely describes in writing, no doubt, that the family's plans are very elusive and that general manager Jim Hendry, who has dismantled the Cubs, botches personnel decisions in bringing together a group of incredible depth but overpaid, no-good, psychotic busts like Zambrano and the aforementioned cancer Milton Bradley.

It's curious enough that one of the finest ballclubs is traditionally, in retrospect, the poorest major league organization in baseball and it's almost laughable for the country to point fingers at the once dignified team in Chi-Town most admired dearly. We are no longer captivated by the Cubs or even crazy about the Cubbies, but in the futility of Chicago baseball, a twinge of misadventures and unethical antics whenever Zambrano takes the mound to behave like a buffoon with no value is destroying the Cubs' imagery and tearing down the warmth.

This is Zambrano in the aging point of his career misbehaving and carrying on unprofessionally, with no morals or strong judgment to cool down and stay compose while on the mound where he has been unsuccessful. He's too hot-headed. He's too petulant. He's too damn angry. His name is involved in too many incidents, too many on-the-field outburst, too many postgame tirades and too many apologies to clear his name of such infamy but then eventually repeat subsequent actions.

And yet, as it stands, Zambrano has not been blackballed from the majors, but more importantly, the Cubs have not contemplated to potentially void his deal with another $18 million left on his contract -- despite that the deal expires after next season when his marketability will be devalued. He almost surely won't return wearing a Cubs uniform next spring.

It was finally a bit of news for the Cubs, turning all the attention toward the red flags that has inhibited the team from producing quality wins, after he clearly had a meltdown against the Braves and threw at Chipper Jones, which prompted an ejection that sent him into the clubhouse early. There's no escaping it, there's no sugarcoating that he can be given possibly a six-game suspension for intentionally throwing at one of the more respected veterans in the game.

The punishment, which should remind him that he's fortunate still to be a participant in a pitching lineup for a major league team, could change his temperamental attitude or either he'll self-destruct. The trust in Zambrano reeks and he's hardly a gracious pitcher that the Cubs now regret ever bringing in and signing to a large contract in a matter of investing too much money.

Under this present state, particularly if this trend continues to be a heavy burden, Zambrano won't be wearing a Cubs uniform much longer. It won't be long before he's released from the Cubs for turning Wrigley Field into a mental asylum, for turning on his teammates and the organization and for his detriment to the team. It's pathetic enough that he's a bigger nuisance than an accessory when the Cubs are burned out of the failures that clearly won't end this decade, maybe not even next decade -- but years from now.

Every season, he is losing his mind by carrying himself like a nutcase and not a beneficiary in the pitching department, leaving his teammates and attacking umpires. Every season, he is raging and slamming an unprotected Gatorade water cooler, mad with the world if the game never finishes his way.

This time, he doesn't believe he's a cancer, a saboteur amidst the controversy from the recent episode when he stormed off the field and gave up on the Cubs and cleaned out his locker, telling friends he was retiring Friday night after yielding five home runs and getting tossed in a dismal 10-4 loss to the Braves. The worshippers believe Zambrano's departure would be a less headache, and now it becomes a media campaign, a heinous circus and mystery to see whether or not Zambrano will ever again play as a member of the Cubs.

It is overwhelming and emotional in the aftermath of provoking a benches-clearing altercation and unnecessarily throwing directly at Jones to explode as usual and be a clown, not a mature veteran with excellent leadership qualities. And now, of course, he is not only losing his mind but his capacity entirely and, more than ever, his composure to deal with a dreadful loss finding an egregious outlet to release his anger.

Poorly handling a situation just expose Zambrano's weaknesses, and sadly, he looks like a childish clown lacking sense as a older player in the league who has plenty of experience and know-how when he produce his best stuff on the mound.

Rarely does he pitch brilliantly, but these days he acts showily and can take on another career in acting by his optimal entertainment to either annoy or fuel the crowd at Wrigleyville that visits one of the oldest ballparks for only the beer, the scrumptious food and the seventh inning stretch singing.

The sense is that Zambrano, once a promising star expected to uplift the Cubs and turn around the groundwork, a component which was lost as soon as Chicago crumbled into a doleful period, regardless of the talent the team brought in to curtail the woes, is ruining his relationship with the Cubs as the team is losing respect for him.

The potential move is eventually coming, a moment when the organization is presumed to cut ties with the irritable and indignant bust. And amid all the rumbling, he certainly has disgraced his name and stature, the way people perceive him and might have dented a long-term contract in the future with other ballclubs as it would be a risky marriage and burden to give a heap of attention to a troubled pitcher, grasping that he can explode at anytime if the team is underachieving.

Not surprisingly, he raises far more questions and, at this very moment, it's hard to tell how it will all play out. The criticism isn't too kind these days, as far as it seems for Zambrano and really when he explodes and snaps on the field. He is viewed provocative and dangerous to the human race, an awful role model to children yet he adopted a kid from Guatemala during the All-Star break, criticized by Steve Rosenbloom of the Chicago Tribune.

It can also be an understanding that he's meticulous when he wants to be, but only when he has the desire to care about leading the club to a win. Otherwise, he's just the petulant, hot-headed idiot, causing trouble inside the Cubs' clubhouse by the infighting feuds. It's not a season that progress without Zambrano losing his temper, arguing with teammates and management while on a short fuse as he is easily combustible, a mannerism that could poison a whole clubhouse if the players aren't strong enough or able to downplay negativity.

Judging by his actions, he's a blasphemous, heartless player and worthless to any team's pitching staff, not in the right state of mind to handle the adversity. He is suddenly easygoing and merciful, ready to repair his image by some accounts, showing true remorse for once in his controversial career?

And so Zambrano tries to seek help from the union, the Major League Baseball Player Association, in hopes to save his name in its entirety when he filed a union grievance against the Cubs. What he has essentially done is asked for a paycheck, now serving a suspension for a minimum 30 days after been placed on the Disqualified List, unable to pocket his $18 million per salary.

That being said, his future isn't too bright or hopeful with the Cubs and he might be playing elsewhere by next season, as an ugly divorce could separate Zambrano and the Cubs, a bad relationship that turned godawful. And then, if there's one person unhappy, it's manager Mike Quade glancing past Zambrano. He, too, has lost patience and tolerance with the deplorable ace who never really was an ace, but an overpaid bust and fooled the Cubs by doing so when Hendry is clearly the one to blame for Zam-Busto's large salary.

It's just too often that his tempers flare. And it's now obvious that the Cubs and Zam-Busto have parted ways emotionally and physically in many ways. He's not worth the headache for any team.

Andre Dawson Obtains Hall Pass On a Day Worthiness Is Answered

On this heartwarming day, as the raindrops fell softly before a beautiful rainbow glowed overhead at the baseball town known as Cooperstown, maybe it was the endearing, informal speech, or maybe it was his posture when he took the podium humbled, hearing his name enshrined into the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

There were times, of course, when Andre Dawson wasn’t expected of being acknowledged as a Hall of Famer, omitted by many populace devoted to the game of baseball. It’s a rhetorical understanding that he was always disregarded and had to wait nine elections anxiously for a hallowed moment, a chance to feel the intense gratification of having his name engraved at Cooperstown.

In his playing days, he was an endearing star and stood as an admired icon because of his singular exploits and humility as the finest slugger with the then-Montreal Expos during an accomplished era. In a sense, it worked in his favor, becoming merely the 203rd player in the game’s history inducted into the Hall.

“Thank you for welcoming this rookie to your team” said Dawson, who wore a Montreal uniform for 10 seasons before joining the Chicago Cubs as a free agent. “It’s an honor beyond words. I didn’t play this game with this goal in mind, but I’m living proof that if you love this game, the game will love you back. I am proof that any young person who can hear my voice right now can be standing here as I am.”

The words of inspiration alone tells us he was worthy of an incredible award. So each year, the Baseball Writer's Association ignored the purity and qualifications of Dawson, especially when it’s a game obsessed with numbers and milestones, a trait and symbolic feature recognized all over the baseball society. However, it was a different notion for the man who appeared in the All-Star Game eight times, with 438 homers, 2,774 hits, 1,591 RBIs and 314 stolen bases in a remarkable career, all while serving a 20-year tenure.

Likewise, he acknowledged that the writers have the leverage in votes.

“You don’t hear any negativity about people in the Hall of Fame,” Dawson said. “How voting goes remains to be seen. You (writers) have always been the experts.”

What man gives credit to the writers? Not many players offer appreciation to writers, but more than anything, are critical of a writer’s stance and demeanor. When he arrived as a rookie in 1977, the hippie era including a phase most wore stylish afros, he was marked as a pseudo in the game and left us suspicious whether he was evidently a juicer at threshold of the Steroid Era.

Things have begun to elicit much questioning and skepticism in the caveat of the “dark side,” warning players about the latent repercussions of the usage of performance-enhancing drugs. To this day, he does garner a sense that the game is on the brink of self-destruction and believes the infected era is slowly receding.

“There’s nothing wrong with the game of baseball,” said Dawson. “Baseball will, from time to time like anything else in life, fall victim to the mistakes that people make. It’s not pleasant and it’s not right. Individuals have chosen the wrong road, and they’re choosing that as their legacy. Those mistakes have hurt the game and taken a toll on all of us.

“Others still have a chance to choose theirs. Do not be lured to the dark side. It’s a stain on the game, a stain gradually being removed.”

He slowly sauntered to the podium and microphone, maintaining open forum and absorbed the audience's attention during his length speech, a touching moment that showed the classiness and humbleness of a deeply honored outfielder in his time. But unfortunately, Dawson’s numbers were trivial by the seductive home run surge of Mark McGwire, Rafael Palmerio, and Sammy Sosa, with the juiced era spoiling it for the innocent and spotless players.


For the first time since exiting the game, he was given an opportunity to be honored as a worthy player of the Hall and diluted an ascending legacy, a moment in his lifetime he was able to cherish as the Cubs and Expos fans roared and applauded a well-deserved athlete. On a pleasant afternoon, he was eulogized and cheered loudly by fans, accompanied by former manager Whitey Herzog, umpire Doug Harvey, broadcaster Jon Miller, and sportswriter Bill Madden, who all shared the moment and were inducted into the Hall.

In what was a touching tribute, his mellifluous public speaking went a long way, comprising of strong messages. In what was a sentimental ceremony, his eloquent words may have enlightened us. The cadence of his heartfelt, genuine speech was simply impressive, delivering a 15 to 20 minute acceptance message. With ailing knees, he stood tall and reflected on a painful career in which he endured 12 knee surgeries to mark a remarkable career.

“The initial impact was early as a result of high school football injury,” Dawson said. “The wear and tear over those 11 years, favoring that one particular knee, caused me to wear out the other knee. As it turned, I think I had eight surgeries by the time I was out of Montreal. I got to the point where I was more or less bone on bone.”


It’s never easy playing on a badly damaged knee that nearly forced Dawson to retire prematurely after his fourth season in the big leagues with the Expos before he returned to somehow write an extraordinary chapter and lasted 21 seasons in the majors. There were times, particularly following games, when he spent ample hours bathing and soaking his troubled knees, finding ways to heal career-threatening injuries.

And if there was one player who endured severe injuries, Dawson was a tough-minded outfielder with eight Gold Gloves, Most Valuable Player, and Rookie of the Year awards. Anytime a player has become one of only three players in major-league history to finish with at least 400 home runs and 300 stolen bases, he’s worthy of the Hall of Fame. Lastly, he’s in the company of Barry Bonds and Willie Mays to reach such a plateau.

As for the worthy ones elected in the Class of 2010, John Fogerty told the Hall of Famers. “You guys belong up here.”

Dawson certainly did.

With Lou Piniella Calling It Quits, The Cubs Need To Clean House

On a warm sunny afternoon at Wrigley Field, one of the finest venues in America, the Cubs are still delayed of success, a wretched franchise, visibly entertaining a bellyaching crowd mainly because of the traditional seventh-inning singing and the expensive taste of beer.

It’s almost overwhelming that much activity hasn’t been seen on Waveland Avenue—oddly enough, becoming a quiet street as a depressed population hasn’t even bothered to catch a home run ball that sometimes drops into the street. These days, however, the Chicago Cubs are hopeless and pathetic and yet downcast fans invest three hours of their afternoons in watching a lousy ball club play at Wrigleyville for a sense of pleasure, unconcerned with the team's inferior track record.

In truth, the Cubs fans are burnt out from the dreadful seasons, known as a haunted curse, which offers a clearer explanation as to why the fans are tortured and belittled. This is a disgrace, especially when a town and the local media sadly scourge the famous Cubbies. This is a real shame, especially when the Cubs are deprived of championships, with a chance in recent years to end the futility.

The perception that the Cubs are cursed appears to be realistic. The worst night for Cubs fans happened when Steve Bartman, Chicago's most hated man, who sat in Aisle 4, Row 8, and Seat 113, infamously interfered with a ball. The last time we saw Bartman, he was being escorted out of the Friendly Confines by security, as his fellow Cubs fans showered him with boos.

Yes, he pathetically may have cost the Cubs a potential World Series bid. But rather than hold grudges and point fingers only at the fellow and disowned supporter who is obviously not allowed to visit Wrigleyville even when he has vanished from the public, fans believe the Cubs are culpable, just as much as Bartman.

The Cubs are mediocre and brings back memories of their three-game postseason sweep, one of the most heartbreaking collapses in sports, a tragic ending in 1969. And even in the modern age, the Cubs have underachieved from lousy postseason runs and miserable 162-game seasons.

Maybe we can blame some of the Cubs letdowns on Sammy Sosa—you know—the lying cheat who confronted the ordeal about his performance-enhancing drug use. As it turned out, he was deceptive and said he only took Flintstones vitamins, but the truth was uncovered when Sosa's name had been linked to the mysterious list of 104 players.

Maybe we can blame some of the headaches on Milton Bradley, the no-good, brainless, psychotic nutcase. Honestly, he was an enigmatic board game no one could ever figured out, spelling out the word "TROUBLE" and blaming his issues on the managerial staff, teammates and fans.

Beyond all, there are worst problems that have unhinged the Cubs, who are viewed as a joke because of dugout altercations and postgame rants. And while the Cubs believe in psychotic athletes, the organization filed bankruptcy as the Tribune Co. had difficulty selling the team to the Ricketts family.

At this time, the Cubs don't care much about their longest drought. We haven’t seen the Cubs win a pennant for decades, let alone a World Series championship, during a century when players are overpaid and underachieve.

It is really embarrassing that the Cubs are doomed in their 102nd consecutive season, blinded by their failures and misfortunes. But even scarier is the much-scrutinized Jim Hendry, a general manager who flirts with the farm system and dismantles a club with his poor decisions and bad trades, giving up valuable talent for uninspired players.


When Lou Piniella was hired for the managerial role three years ago, he walked into the Cubs' clubhouse and accomplished very little in a brief tenure, suddenly deciding to call it quits after this season.

Now that he is older and mentally drained, maybe the managerial role is too much of a burden, maybe he’s stressed out and pressured to try to change the direction for a disappointing franchise and knows he is held accountable for the Cubs failures.

As Piniella is almost in his early 70s, he announced Tuesday that he is retiring as manager at the end of the season. While the Piniella's era isn’t considered a success, he announced his retirement at the worst possible time and hasn’t met the standards, considering that he’s absolutely burnt out from it.

As the years progress, Piniella knows he’s almost 67, and that a tremendous amount of pressure on his shoulders is very stressful. The timing couldn’t be better to escape, as the mediocrity continues to tear down a once-beloved franchise.

“I couldn’t be more appreciative of the Cubs organization for providing me the opportunity to manage this ballclub,” Piniella said in a statement. “I’ve had four wonderful years here that I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. I’ve grown to love the city and fans, but at my age it will be time to enter a new phase in my life. It will enable me to spend more valuable time with my family—my wife, my kids and my grandchildren. God has blessed me to have been able to work this many years in the game that I love.”

By using common sense, Piniella wasn’t planning on coming back next season. He apparently had initially planned to retire in the final year of his contract with Chicago, which expires at the end of the season.

Throughout the season, Piniella ranted during postgame press conferences and threw on-the-field tantrums with umpires, after arguing a bad call that forced the longtime skipper to explode. But as of lately, he has stopped charging onto the field and kicking dirt on the umpires. He has mellowed considerably, as he is a manager with experience and wisdom.

Despite the failures, Piniella led the Cincinnati Reds to a miraculous World Series sweep of the Oakland A's and won his only championship, so he is worthy of the Hall of Fame.

Now that he retires as a Cub, he’s departs from the game with a 0-6 drought that could smear his legacy. Because the Cubbies never have postseason success and end miserable World Series droughts, Hendry should be canned for his faulty mistakes, spending wastefully and squandering much of the team’s payroll.

Let’s reflect back on the shoddy investments that backfired in Hendry's face.


For decades, the Cubs have made cartoonish moves, a resemblance of Tom & Jerry, with all the botched maneuvers that exploded in Hendry's face. He lavished an unproven pitcher, Carlos Zambrano, with $91.5 million based on a few performances, but Zambrano has turned out to be bust.

If anything, he has divided a clubhouse by throwing hissy fits and getting involved in verbal and physical altercations with teammates. It’s also worth noting that Hendry spent unwisely when he gave a $136 million deal to an overpaid Alfonso Soriano. If Hendry is running the business, the fans will very likely experience another miserable, long-suffering season.

“Our goal is to win the World Series,” Tom Ricketts said. “Our goal is to put a team on the field that can win a World Series every year. I can’t envision an era without that and still calling it a success, no.”

And now, it is a good time to dismiss Hendry. It’s the only way the Cubs will ever put an end to a ridiculous curse that ruins all the endless possibilities of winning the pennant and World Series. Until then, Hendry will run a franchise with unnecessary baggage and drama.

The troubles aren’t only on the field, but in the front office, and the dumbest move was when Hendry signed Bradley last year. The next time we see Piniella, he may likely call it as he sees it from the broadcasting booth if he decides to accept a job offer as a commentator, while the Ricketts should clean house. It starts by firing Hendry, who has dismantled the Cubbies as teary-eyed, saddened fans painfully witness it.

Honestly, the franchise’s 100-year drought will never end, unless Hendry is run out of town.

Like Others, Idoitic Troubles Mirgates to Wrigleyville, Bradley

I’m tired of hearing the name. As citizens and baseball loyalist, our minds should be weary of the one player whose worse than Donald Duck when tempers flare. The childish tantrums have been everywhere, this explains why Milton Bradley has played for seven different teams in his troubling nine seasons.

Nothing has changed after migrating from team to team, presenting the same shameful outrage in Chicago. Although the Cubs are struggling to avoid 101 years of hell, Bradley’s presence curses them as much as Steve Bartman interfering on a catchable foul ball or the black cat crossing home plate. At Wrigleyville, the Cubs have morphed into a dismal frenzy and suddenly the Friendly Confines has divided into the Disgraceful Confines.

They are asking for trouble whenever Bradley is nearby Wrigley Field or even U.S. Cellar Field, where his recent anger outburst occurred, meaning it still happened in Chicago.


The Cubs general manager Jim Hendry was gritty to sign Bradley to a $30 million contract during the offseason, knowing his reputation in the past of irritable incidents on the field and inside the clubhouse. By viewing Bradley’s terrible behavior from previous clubs, it was enough to know that it would continue.

Because of Bradley’s enigmatic demeanor, his talent is enveloped and stashed behind a treacherous attitude, that is spreading rapidly around the clubhouse.


At 31, understand that Bradley will never develop into a remarkable hitter or a premier slugger in the game. He refuses to mature into a well-behaved citizen in Chicago, where the stakes and expectations are high. Think of it like this, as the Friendly Confines worships those who perform well or capable of producing wins, and Bradley could be one of those players who represent the Cubs as a solid hitter.

Instead of individualizing himself as a player, Bradley exchanged words in the dugout with manager Lou Piniella. Since joining the Cubs, negative moods have invoked problems and irritability, frustrated with his offensive failures. On Friday, he went 0-3 and is hitting .237 with five homers and 16 RBIs. But he was furious after the six-inning at-bat, when Piniella removed him from the game. Later, he was seen in street clothes walking to the players’ parking lot. At least, Bradley could have shown more class and acted as a loyal teammate, instead of disappearing from the game. But reports clarified that Piniella sent home the mindless right-fielder after exchanging words. It just goes to show us, he’s a juvenile and sentimental player without a conscience as if he’s baseball’s Terrell Owens, censurable of devilish ire.

At the postgame news conference, Lou Piniella said he threw a rage in the clubhouse. “I told him to take his uniform off,” he said calmly. “He threw his helmet off and smashed a water cooler. I just told him to take his uniform off and go home. I followed him up into the clubhouse and we exchanged some words.”

I’ll take it from Piniella and say it is the second cooler destroyed this year by a Cubs player. Not long ago, pitcher Carlos Zambrano damaged the Gatorade cooler in the dugout when he was livid after being removed from a feeble outing on the mound.

The difference with Bradley is problems occurred with almost all of his previous team. By following the hellish journey of shameless and sinful conduct, the most noticeable incident is when he was suspended five games of 2004 for slamming a plastic bottle in front of a fan seated behind right field. In history, he feels the need to throw items on to the field, such as ’04 when he tossed a bag of balls onto the field, which led to an ejection. Another complexity that follows Bradley insipid disgraceful etiquette is his disheveled mouth, confronting then-manger Eric Wedge in the dugout during spring training.

See, it’s always something with Milton Bradley, a board game that I could quite never figure out.

Wait, there’s more to the board game of Twister and Battleship.

With the Dodgers, he criticized then-teammate Jeff Kent in 2005, saying he was racist and he couldn’t blend with African Americans. If Bradley took a close look in the mirror, there’s a hint. I’m sure Kent maintained distance from his frail temperament, of which he treated as if Kent personally disliked being around him.

And if so, he had every reason to keep a distance of any nonsense. As a member of San Diego, without a doubt Bradley ran into distasteful nuisance and was in the midst of a pennant chase. But idiotic guise cost him the final five games of the regular season, and did not participate in the postseason. When the incident occurred, Padres manager Bud Black stepped in to barricade an irritable Bradley of charging umpire Mike Winters and was eventually spun to the ground by Black, which resulted in a torn anterior cruciate ligament in his right knee.

According to the Chicago Tribune Web site, Bradley says he does have the same rules as his teammates. Well, it could be true, only because of his misbehaving personality that forced Piniella to set stricter guidelines for a moody Bradley. Still, it doesn’t give him assent to throw ludicrous tirades or hissy fits, especially at Piniella, the skipper who was nice enough to place him in Saturday’s lineup.

Point I’m trying to make is that Bradley isn’t worth the disruption. Although Hendry talked about the altercation with Piniella and Bradley before Saturday’s game, still he could be baseball’s idiot. Something else might occur between now and October, I wouldn’t doubt it.

You never know with Bradley.