I believe Carlos Zambrano.
When he told Comcast SportsNet that only about three teammates contacted him after he was placed on the We’re Sick Of You List, I believe him.
Everything else is a crock.
No, wait, I believe Zambrano when he says he doesn’t “understand’’ the Cubs’ disciplinary action. Of course he doesn’t. He never expects to be disciplined. In the coddling and enabling world of the Cubs, Zambrano expects to do whatever he wants. Whenever he wants. However he wants. Zambrano greedily embraced the selfish footsteps of Sammy Sosa.
Oh, and it should be no surprise that Sosa was one of the people who called Zambrano in the wake of Friday night’s hissy-fit. I believe Zambrano and Sosa discussed the agenda for the next meeting of the growing association called Cubs Refusing All Professionalism (CRAP).
Zambrano’s utter lack of credibility was again on display. He sounded pathetic in trying to act out the spin that his agent or someone wrote for him. He told Comcast he wants to retire as a Cub, and I'm thinking, wait, isn't that what started this whole, embarrassing affair?
But no. Zambrano said he didn’t plan to quit. That's a crock. The idea that he wasn’t throwing at Chipper Jones, which got him ejected and nearly emptied the Braves' bench. That, too, is a crock. Almost all of it was a crock.
But you know the biggest crock of all? Zambrano acting indignant that his actions in the sanctity of the clubhouse were made public.
I mean, Zambrano is a guy who punched a teammate in public -- jeez, on live television.
Zambrano is a guy who threw a hissy-fit up and down a South Side dugout before confronting one of baseball’s classiest players -- again on live television.
Zambrano is a guy who called out a teammate this year -- publicly again.
Zambrano is a guy who -- forget it, you know the rap sheet. He’s hated by most of sane people in his own clubhouse. Forty years ago, the end of the story would be “killed by his own troops in Vietnam.’’
So, against that backdrop, a pitcher who represents the worst kind of teammate said clubhouse words and actions should stay in the clubhouse. This sounds stupid, even for a Cubs player, manager or executive.
It sounded as if Zambrano felt manager Mike Quade violated the rule by relating what clubhouse personnel told him. Understand, Zambrano has disrespected Quade publicly and embarrassingly all year, and Zambrano’s worried about being undermined by the guy?
Yes. Well. Ahem. Maybe it was Zambrano’s locker stall that Zambrano himself emptied completely, right down to the nameplate while yammering that he was retiring.
Zambrano has a point about clubhouse privacy. There is a code. But it doesn’t apply when dealing with a player who turns into a big baby when things get difficult, who becomes a quitter when it’s time to reveal character.
Zambrano’s annual suspendible/fine-able/laughable act is yet another case of Jim Hendry’s big money gone bad. You know that rap sheet, too: Zambrano, Alfonso Soriano, Aramis Ramirez, Kosuke Fukudome, and don’t forget Milton Bradley, totaling the national debt.
Which means the bigger joke is on the dithering Fanboy Owner, wherever he is, maybe on safari, or maybe just taking a nap after a hearty lunch of bison dogs.
The dithering Fanboy Owner apparently remains supportive of a general manager who has wasted all that money, who has endorsed an enabling environment, who continually has employed players requiring public apologies, who has not only failed to win a World Series but can’t even put together a .500 team anymore.
The dithering Fanboy Owner has to ask himself this: How can he trust Hendry to judge players and give out any money again?
I’ll hang up and listen for more of the dumbest ownership responses since Michael McCaskey.
No, wait, one more thing: If the dithering Fanboy Owner brings back Hendry, I hope the Cubs are forced legally to bring back Zambrano. They all deserve each other -- the stupid owner, the bad general manager and the pathetic excuse for a teammate.
I mean, stupid, bad and pathetic -- does anything say “Cubs’’ better than that?
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