Nobody enjoys getting booed. As ballplayers always say, how would you like to get booed at work? To which I reply, I get booed every day, but I’m hoping my teenagers eventually will grow out of it.
In the wake of Carlos Zambrano’s why-must-they-boo/where’s-the-love sermon Monday, let me try to explain the mind-set of Cubs fans to Cubs players, some of whom still don’t seem to get it.
Start with this basic truth, fellas: The fans want it more than you do.
You players will disagree with that statement, probably all the way to your graves. But it’s not meant as a knock or as an indictment of your desire as competitors. Cubs fans are so thirsty for a World Series title that when they talk, sand comes out their mouths.
So how can you blame them when scorpions spill out with the sand once in a while? Booing is the natural outgrowth of 98 straight seasons without a championship.
Unless you’re a player who grew up in Chicago and rooted for the Cubs in the face of overwhelming evidence that you were a goof for doing so, you can’t possibly know the feeling of dryness on the North Side.
Let’s face it, a multimillion-dollar contract takes away a lot of the sting of not winning. Whatever your emotional investment is in the Cubs, it can’t be bigger than your paycheck. Cubs fans have no such soft landing place, no escape. They can’t go anywhere else. Oh, they can move out of town, but their Cubs afflictions are hitched to their cars.
Right now the fans see a mediocre division and a golden opportunity to get to the playoffs. They look in their rearview mirrors and see those 98 seasons of aridity. They see the end of their communal rope. They want to win now.
The fans know you players are trying. But they’re sick of rooting for effort. They’ve seen decades of both effort and lack of effort. They’re sick of tapping their toes, checking their watches and waiting for next year.
They want results now.
Over the years, the tone of the booing has changed. It used to say, “The Cubs are bad and always will be bad. This is our lot in life, and we’re periodically going to express our distaste between gulps of beer.” Now it says, “The losing has gone on for far too long, and we’re deathly tired of it. We want to win the World Series. And if you players aren’t with us, you’re against us.”
And here you thought “boo” meant “boo.”
It’s a love that’s no longer patient.
Yes, they were booing Zambrano for stupid baserunning against the Dodgers. Yes, they were booing him for all the walks. But at the heart of those deep, guttural boos was complete frustration over the ace’s inexplicable troubles at a time when the team needs him most. This sad-sack division is there for the taking. Zambrano apologized Tuesday. Great. Now start winning some games, Carlos.
A feeling of euphoria and desperation is in the air at Wrigley, and certainly you players can feel it. There is early Oscar buzz for the fans’ theatrical ups and downs during games. And those were August games. Critical mass figures to be reached in September. No one is quite sure what to expect. Group psychosis?
If it involves losing, expect booing.
Contrary to what you might think, the boos are educated and sophisticated. Cubs fans are very much aware that the last six World Series have been won by the Cardinals, the White Sox, the Red Sox, the Marlins, the Angels and the Diamondbacks. In other words, not by the Yankees. They know that in baseball today, anybody can win it all.
It’s why you might be able to detect some urgency in those boos.
Despite what Zambrano said Monday, the fans are with you players through thick and thin — they continue to pack the park. The problem is that they have been served a steady diet of thin. In a way, you’re getting the business end of 98 years of aggravation. Is that fair to you mercenaries? Probably not, but neither is almost a century without results. They know you didn’t play for the 1951 club that finished 34 1/2 games out of first place or for the 1962 team that won only 59 games.
Yet you get booed anyway.
Deal with it.
Booing for booing’s sake doesn’t mean a whole lot. That’s not the case here. Surely you can see that there is substance to the boos at Wrigley. They don’t point to fickle fans. They point to fans who have had enough. These boos are what happens when fans fill a ballpark for 20 years with little to show for it, other than scar tissue.
The losing has become old, very old. If you want the booing to stop, do something about it. Win, for example.
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rmorrissey@tribune.com
