A family visiting from Michael Barrett’s hometown of Atlanta came to last Saturday’s game at Wrigley Field.
Each of the children wore No. 8 jerseys with the Cubs catcher’s name on them, which Barrett autographed cheerfully.
“Are you playing today?” he was asked.
“No, I won’t be in this one,” Barrett said.
The kids’ dad observed that the Cubs seemed to be playing better baseball of late.
Barrett agreed. He gave his teammates credit for that.
“We have some great young guys. We have a center fielder now who gets to everything,” he said of Felix Pie. “He runs like a deer.”
If you met this Mike Barrett, you would understand why so many people thought so highly of him. Such a prince of a guy he could be, agreeable, approachable, as pleasant a pro athlete as you would want your kid to meet.
His legacy in Chicago, however, will not be anything of that nature.
Barrett is going to be remembered as a “Don’t Be Like Mike” kind of guy, as a Cub who socked a White Sox player at home plate and as a catcher who scuffled in the dugout with his own team’s star pitcher.
All of which was done in full view of thousands of fans, including children.
Everybody has known Cubs who were no angels. Nasty guys also have been known to finish last.
But this continues to be a family-conscious organization, one that even paints the words “Welcome to the Friendly Confines” atop the Wrigley Field dugouts.
This is a club in the process of erecting a monument to Ernie Banks, someone who epitomized sportsmanship.
This is a club that took pride in Ryne Sandberg’s speech at the Hall of Fame about the importance of exemplary behavior and character.
This is a club that wastes little time whenever a Cub has worn out his welcome, cutting ties even with the greatest of the past quarter-century, Sammy Sosa, as soon as a majority grew tired of his act.
Barrett is the latest to be expelled from the ivy-covered walls of Wrigley, which definitely ought to put a damper on Tuesday’s scheduled handout to fans of 100 of Barrett’s home jerseys, as well as on July 1’s giveaway of 10,000 Barrett bobblehead dolls.
This team has turned into the Ultimate Fighting Cubs, coming off like punks in ugly scenes replayed repeatedly on coast-to-coast TV.
A catcher, a pitcher and the manager have taken turns going ballistic. Then even the team’s best player, Derrek Lee, took a swing at a pitcher, inciting a free-for-all.
Barrett had double trouble, but the June 1 fistfight with Carlos Zambrano undoubtedly sealed his fate.
He wasn’t a social misfit the way Dave Kingman was and he didn’t become persona non grata in the Cubs’ clubhouse as Sosa did. He wasn’t as moody as Todd Hundley or as openly hostile as LaTroy Hawkins.
Yet the reputation permanently tattooed to Barrett on his way out the door is that of a hothead with a short fuse.
Unceremoniously sent packing Wednesday even though his nine home runs and 29 RBIs were second best on the club’s active roster, Barrett must be partly crushed but also partly curious which Cub to thank. He now belongs to a San Diego Padres team that is in first place.
Jim Hendry, predictably, said the trade had nothing to do with Barrett’s personal squabbles.
“We felt it was time to shuffle the deck,” the Cubs general manager said.
Hendry is being generous and nice, as nice as Barrett himself knew how to be 99 percent of the time.
It isn’t logical that the Cubs woke up to a realization that what they really needed in the search for their first World Series championship in 99 years is Rob Bowen, a catcher with 49 lifetime hits.
Barrett had to go because his situation had become an embarrassment.
His playing time had been reduced. Manager Lou Piniella was giving more and more to a comparatively inexperienced catcher named Koyie Hill, who, as of the hour of Barrett’s trade, had a brutal batting average of .160.
This team’s catching has been placed in the hands of Hill, Bowen and the injured Henry Blanco, a trio that in a season 70 games old has a grand total of 33 hits.
For whichever reason behind the scenes, the Cubs concluded they no longer wanted Barrett behind the plate.
Hendry insisted it was strictly a business transaction, saying, “No pitcher has ever come to me and said, ‘Gee, I don’t want Michael Barrett catching me.’ “
Maybe not, but you don’t need to be a mind reader to tell when a pitcher and a catcher have become incompatible.
The concerned parties maintained that no tension lingered between Zambrano and him, but Barrett again was kept out of the lineup Saturday when the staff’s ace pitched. Zambrano promptly went out and threw the game of his life, carrying a no-hitter into the Padres’ eighth.
The meaning was clear. Cubs pitchers could do as well without Barrett as with him. Possibly better.
He didn’t know it at the time, signing those No. 8 jerseys for those kids. But his days as a Cub also were numbered.
They would end abruptly, same as Sosa’s did.
Being a slugger only gets you so far.
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mikedowney@tribune.com
