Dear, dear benighted Cub fans. Your ship has indeed come in. But don't expect the riches to disembark just yet.
Newly-hired team president Theo Epstein and his minions are the real deal. Freed from the shackles of penury, Jed Hoyer will provide a bonanza to Chicago. Whoever is hired, the new manager will share the winning philosophy that the Epstein team plants at Wrigley. Brains, patience and money are a potent combination and they are in abundance on the North side.
The challenge facing them, besides 29 other teams intent on success at their expense, is the current team composition. Epstein takes over a franchise laden with useless baggage that can't be thrown overboard -- at least not at a dear cost. Previous owners and management signed outrageous deals with cartoon characters whose actual baseball value is nil or less.
Take Alfonso Soriano. Please. The previous Cub administration took one look at his speed and power, and his one good year in Washington (.277/.351/.560 with 41 of 58 steals and improved outfield defense) and bestowed upon him an eight-year $133 million contract that he wasn't worth even if paid in Monopoly money. That deal has $54 million left as Soriano enters his baseball dotage. He hasn't been a factor on the basepaths in three years, plays the outfield as if he's searching for a lost contact lens and has a .308 on-base percentage over the last three seasons. For their $57 million, the Cubs have gotten two wins over a replacement player total since 2009. And they're in for worse.
Soriano is emblematic of the Cubs' problem. Only two of their 2011 starters took more walks than Ironside. Their team on-base percentage was a meager .314, despite playing in the (hitter-) friendly confines. For $39 million, the Cubs got .262/.323/.418 out of their outfield trio of Soriano, Marlon Byrd and Kosuke Fukudome. (They swapped Fuku to Cleveland for a pair of farmhands in July.) The new management team may preach patience at the plate, but 36-year-olds who earn 27 free passes in 500 at-bats aren't suddenly morphing into Jason Giambi.
For another $32+ million, Ryan Dempster and Carlos Zambrano delivered a combined ERA 20% worse than league average, plus a combined TTA (temper tantrums per annum) of 4.0. (No thanks to Dempster on that one.)
The Cubs are stuck with all of the above-mentioned, except Fuku, and will either lose their best player, Aramis Ramirez, to free agency, or empty the bank to keep him. First-baseman Carlos Pena's contract has also expired, conveniently paving the way for a big free agent signing splash. Epstein starts the Hot Stove season with a $93 million payroll before half the roster is filled. And without Fukudome, Ramirez and Pena, only two of the 11 remaining batters with 100 plate appearances had OBPs above .325, and none is above .350.
So the OBP problem will not be solved overnight. The flotsam and jetsam will take at least a year to clear out. Unless Big Z stands for Zoloft, he's going to continue to plague the clubhouse. And no matter the skipper, an organizational transformation takes more than one year. The immediate forecast is bleak, but have no doubt, the ship of state finally has a working navigation system and a captain and crew who know which way to steer.
b
Newly-hired team president Theo Epstein and his minions are the real deal. Freed from the shackles of penury, Jed Hoyer will provide a bonanza to Chicago. Whoever is hired, the new manager will share the winning philosophy that the Epstein team plants at Wrigley. Brains, patience and money are a potent combination and they are in abundance on the North side.
The challenge facing them, besides 29 other teams intent on success at their expense, is the current team composition. Epstein takes over a franchise laden with useless baggage that can't be thrown overboard -- at least not at a dear cost. Previous owners and management signed outrageous deals with cartoon characters whose actual baseball value is nil or less.
Take Alfonso Soriano. Please. The previous Cub administration took one look at his speed and power, and his one good year in Washington (.277/.351/.560 with 41 of 58 steals and improved outfield defense) and bestowed upon him an eight-year $133 million contract that he wasn't worth even if paid in Monopoly money. That deal has $54 million left as Soriano enters his baseball dotage. He hasn't been a factor on the basepaths in three years, plays the outfield as if he's searching for a lost contact lens and has a .308 on-base percentage over the last three seasons. For their $57 million, the Cubs have gotten two wins over a replacement player total since 2009. And they're in for worse.
Soriano is emblematic of the Cubs' problem. Only two of their 2011 starters took more walks than Ironside. Their team on-base percentage was a meager .314, despite playing in the (hitter-) friendly confines. For $39 million, the Cubs got .262/.323/.418 out of their outfield trio of Soriano, Marlon Byrd and Kosuke Fukudome. (They swapped Fuku to Cleveland for a pair of farmhands in July.) The new management team may preach patience at the plate, but 36-year-olds who earn 27 free passes in 500 at-bats aren't suddenly morphing into Jason Giambi.
For another $32+ million, Ryan Dempster and Carlos Zambrano delivered a combined ERA 20% worse than league average, plus a combined TTA (temper tantrums per annum) of 4.0. (No thanks to Dempster on that one.)
The Cubs are stuck with all of the above-mentioned, except Fuku, and will either lose their best player, Aramis Ramirez, to free agency, or empty the bank to keep him. First-baseman Carlos Pena's contract has also expired, conveniently paving the way for a big free agent signing splash. Epstein starts the Hot Stove season with a $93 million payroll before half the roster is filled. And without Fukudome, Ramirez and Pena, only two of the 11 remaining batters with 100 plate appearances had OBPs above .325, and none is above .350.
So the OBP problem will not be solved overnight. The flotsam and jetsam will take at least a year to clear out. Unless Big Z stands for Zoloft, he's going to continue to plague the clubhouse. And no matter the skipper, an organizational transformation takes more than one year. The immediate forecast is bleak, but have no doubt, the ship of state finally has a working navigation system and a captain and crew who know which way to steer.
b
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