Tonight, the Cubs start a three game series in Arlington, Texas against an old pal. No, not Jerry Hairston Jr. For the first time since he bolted the 2004 finale a few hours early, the Cubs get to see their old pal Sammy Sosa.
OK, actually they already saw him like four times in Spring Training, but that kind of kills the dramatic narrative. So just go with it.
Sosa hit his 599th homer (of his career, not of the season) in Cincinnati on Saturday. It’s the same place he hit number 500, and we all remember Chip Caray practically strangling the moment with his typical over-blown, over-enunciated, over-practiced “Sammy punches that ticket to Cooperstown!” call.
Turns out that given what’s transpired in the court of public opinion in the years since, that Sammy’s ticket to Cooperstown might be a bus ticket and he still might need to buy admission to the museum.
Will Sammy hit 600 against his old buddies in Chicago? Our long and tortured history with him suggests that he will.
Hopefully, in a 12-2 loss.
I was one of the dopes who followed him blindly for most of his tenure with the Cubs. My nature is to be petty, so the reason I enjoyed watching him was because I had Sox fan friends who hated the George Bell trade from the beginning, and as Sammy turned from erratic athlete to good player to great player to disgrace, I enjoyed rubbing it in for most of that career arc.
I knowingly looked the other way as he puffed up like a tick and began to hit baseballs 600 feet. The great myth of Sammy is that his increased size cost him the ability to keep up his five tool prowess.
The reason it’s a myth is because he never had any idea what to do with any of the tools anyway. You can give your dog a toolchest. He’s not going to build his own doghouse. He’s probably going to poop in the toolchest.
Sammy’s tools were apparent, but equally useless. He was fast, but he ran the bases like a little leaguer. He just ran until he scored or got tagged out. He had a great arm, especially if the goal was to see your right fielder throw towards the plate and have the ball hit the screen. He had power, especially if a pitch took a good hop out in front of home plate since he was swinging at anything.
But during most of his 13 seasons with the Cubs, I liked Sammy. He seemed happy and he provided some real moments of excitement and drama. He let us down, a lot, but not as much as most of his countless worthless teammates during that span. He got a lot more out of his talent than Mark Grace did. But probably only because Grace’s supplements were Winstons and Johnnie Walker, while Sammy’s had to be bought with big piles of cash wrapped in towels and left in hotel lobbies.
So when we see him tonight, it will be kind of fun to see him, and his tired old act. It’s kind of like going to see Dean Martin after he’d been in Vegas for far too long. Only Sammy won’t be drunk.
But seeing him will also bring back some feelings we’ve all buried in the past three years. The regret that he didn’t do more with what he had, and that the Cubs didn’t trade him when he had value. He’ll probably hit his 600th homer while we’re watching and make that beeline for the dugout camera to blow us all kisses, and while we fight off our gag reflex, we’ll remember for just a second, how it was when we…and he…were younger and this seemed somehow cool.
Then we’ll resume our gagging.
Good to see you again, buddy. Sorry we can’t say we miss you.
This picture of Sammy makes him look awfully proportional. When he was with the Cubs, his back was about the size of a coffee table. Wonder what happened? Still, there were many games that I can remember watching Sammy come to the plate and hoping that he would go yard. Many times he didn’t but sometimes he did and that felt great. I just hope that time will allow me to forget the roids and remember that pop-and-a-hop!
um… i didnt know ticks puffed up
i knew you could puff up like me, but not like a tick
ya learn something new everyday
Men on, two outs, Cubs down a couple.
Setting up too far off the plate.
Pitch way up, swing, miss.
Pitch inside, swing, foul.
Knowing what is going to happen next.
Pitch outside again, swing miss by a foot.
Inning over.
F@#$ him.
Yesth, I’m stillth a doucheth
I took care of Sammy, mang. He was never the same after I got through with him. Sammy was so screwed he tried the corked bat to get himself back on track, and it was all downhill from there.
Funny thing is, for all the Sammy hate, he still put up 35/80 numbers with an 850 OPS in RF for 2004. Would those numbers be helpful to the Cubs now, buddy?
Game one: BAD.
Should Larry Biittner’s #1 fan know there’s 2 “t”s in Biittner?
Goodbye buddies
F*ck this place I’m outta here!!!
are you f*ing serious? again?
You stay classy Michael Barrett.
60% of the time I work all the time….
Me, I still like Sammy. I thought the Cubs did a hatchet job on him. Besides the HRs and that the Cubs do not go to the playoffs in 98 without Sammy, Sosa played hard and everyday. He had five consecutive seasons of 156 games or more. That’s pretty good.
hey mang, I told jimmy boy that if he wanted to sign me, Barrett had to go.
what do you think? am I about to be signed for big money?? 12 mil ain’t enough!
I was never a big Sosa fan, but anyone who likes to perpetuate his “home run when they’re losing 9-0” myth can eat my ass. That guy had more ridiculous clutch home runs than anyone I ever saw.
Nice writeup, Andy–although I believe Dean Martin’s drinking and womanizing was an act.