cheeses_h_rice
08-06-2002, 09:37 AM
http://www.suntimes.com/output/mariotti/cst-spt-jay06.html
Jay makes Frank out to be Satan incarnate here. He also makes Konerko's "I'm sick of losing" speech into an anti-Frank diatribe.
But still, his basic point -- whether or not to invoke the diminished skills clause -- is a viable one.
___
Time to slide Big Hurt out door
August 6, 2002
BY JAY MARIOTTI SUN-TIMES COLUMNIST
Whether they sound a gong, push a secret red button or send a polite fax, it's time. At the exact nano-second their dreary season ends, the White Sox must exercise the ''diminishing skills'' clause in Frank Thomas' deal and begin the process of running him out of town on a rail.
Conveniently, there's a set of tracks behind Comiskey Park. Tell the conductor to toot the horn when he's leaving.
I derive no great pleasure in writing this. It's a sad day in Chicago when a man who once was baseball's premier hitter, as automatic a ballpark treat as organ music and mustard, becomes a wimpy, absurdly overpaid, .239-hitting sulker whose only headlines come when he's causing another clubhouse disturbance or not sliding into home plate. Maybe a prospering franchise could afford to keep him as a charity case, but the financially struggling Sox no longer can take the Thomas plunge for even one more season, much less a whopping four owed him under a contract that suddenly represents the biggest albatross in Jerry Reinsdorf's kingdom.
Only by executing the clause--doable because of Thomas' free-falling production this season--will the Sox have any chance of escaping a $40 million commitment to the aging slugger through 2006. The complex provision allows Reinsdorf to defer all but $250,000 per season, which could prompt Thomas to terminate the contract and become a free agent. It wouldn't be the smartest decision for Thomas, rejecting $39million in future earnings for what is certain to be a comparatively shrimpy deal from another big-league club, assuming one is interested. But Thomas has been through a bitter divorce and business troubles, meaning he might be willing to accept, say, $3.5 million a year elsewhere and relieve Reinsdorf of the huge long-term payout.
That Thomas even would consider such a deal shows how far he has slipped, on and off the field. But the Sox need to push him in that direction, tell him in no uncertain terms that he's no longer welcome. ''I don't want to be somewhere where I'm not wanted,'' he said recently, suggesting he might be agreeable to an escape hatch and a cheaper contract elsewhere. He has become the most untradeable player in the major leagues, with teams scared off by another provision that guarantees his final four seasons in full if he's traded. The only way the Sox can dump Thomas, then, is via clause-and-effect. They push the button, shrink his pay stubs to working-stiff levels--and, hopefully, he runs to another city.
Perhaps he'll even slide when he gets there.
Not much is riding here, only the viability of baseball on the South Side. If Thomas chooses to stay and wait for his deferred jackpot, it would limit what the Sox can pay other players-- eventual free agents Paul Konerko and Magglio Ordonez included--and sabotage the franchise's chances of contending anytime soon. As it is, the Sox are expected to lose up to $15 million this season, even after their recent fire sale. With attendance again in the bottom third of the majors and low crowds expected the last 71/2 weeks, the last thing the Sox need is an unproductive Thomas hogging an ample chunk of the payroll. In the worst-case scenario, the best player in franchise history conceivably could drag the franchise into near-oblivion.
In one sense, it was the best deal Reinsdorf ever did, allowing him a chance to slip away from a hefty commitment when a superstar crumbles. In another sense, it was the worst deal Reinsdorf ever did, allowing Thomas to become an internal plague for four more years if he decides to wait for his money. I might even recommend the Sox pay an unusually large part of his salary if that's what it takes to send him away. Whatever the method, they must get him out of here. Frank Thomas cannot be on the roster when the Sox report to Tucson next February.
If it's unfair to blame him for a lost season, given the missteps of inept general manager Kenny Williams, there's no doubt Thomas has become more divisive and counterproductive than valuable. He's a mental wreck in the batter's box, continuing a gradual slide since the late 1990s that paused only during his retro season in 2000. While he still knocks in runs here and there, his batting average is lower than that of Comiskey pariah Royce Clayton while his on-base percentage--once the hallmark of his awesome statistical lines-- has dropped lower than Tony Graffanino's. Another bad year has put him in another bad mood. As Konerko pointed out last month in his much-appreciated, anti-Thomas rant, his teammates are sick of it.
Not that their daggers have led to any dramatic improvements. Over the weekend in Tampa Bay, where the Sox stumbled around against the contraction-ready Devil Rays, Thomas once again exhibited why Sox fans call him The Big Skirt. He refused to slide on a play at home plate, as he often does, causing teammate Carlos Lee to call him out during a screaming match in the trainers' room. Never mind that Thomas looked safe. Sliding into home plate is a rite of professionalism, allowing a player to prove his willingness to get down and dirty and take one for the team. Back in 1994, Thomas refused to go hard into home plate during a game in Cleveland, causing Ozzie Guillen and other mates to rip him in the clubhouse.
Several years later, things haven't changed. On June 27, Thomas went in standing up against the division-leading Twins and was tagged out by catcher A.J. Pierzynski. Saturday night, he was thumbed out by umpire Steve Rippley, chewed out by Lee and singled out by manager Jerry Manuel, whose life has become preoccupied by Thomas-related incidents. What's so ridiculous here is that Lee is a blockhead who often gets picked off first base. He's also 26, eight years younger than Thomas yet understandably disrespectful of his elder.
''I just told him he needed to slide,'' said Lee, whose Sox future, too, is shaky.
''No doubt he should have slid,'' Manuel said. ''He was standing up and was tagged out. This guy has been playing for 35 years. He can't slide? He knows he has to slide. That was a big play for us. We would have still had first and third with no outs.''
Asked why he didn't address Thomas in the dugout, Manuel said, ''All the guys, they jump on him all the time.''
Ever hear of anything so sad? A two-time American League MVP, one of the game's most well-paid players, has become such a problem child that younger teammates are forced to verbally discipline him. Ten years ago, Thomas was as well-adjusted a young superstar as I'd seen. I'll never forget sitting with him one March morning in Florida and hearing him tell me, ''Hey, I got married over the winter. Did it in Vegas. I'm very happy.''
Since then, Thomas has been strung out by money, fame, big business, nightlife and a maturity motor running in reverse. If he once symbolized what was right about the White Sox, he now symbolizes what is wrong and stale.
There is a way to cut their losses and say goodbye. They have 54 days to figure out how to tell him.
Jay makes Frank out to be Satan incarnate here. He also makes Konerko's "I'm sick of losing" speech into an anti-Frank diatribe.
But still, his basic point -- whether or not to invoke the diminished skills clause -- is a viable one.
___
Time to slide Big Hurt out door
August 6, 2002
BY JAY MARIOTTI SUN-TIMES COLUMNIST
Whether they sound a gong, push a secret red button or send a polite fax, it's time. At the exact nano-second their dreary season ends, the White Sox must exercise the ''diminishing skills'' clause in Frank Thomas' deal and begin the process of running him out of town on a rail.
Conveniently, there's a set of tracks behind Comiskey Park. Tell the conductor to toot the horn when he's leaving.
I derive no great pleasure in writing this. It's a sad day in Chicago when a man who once was baseball's premier hitter, as automatic a ballpark treat as organ music and mustard, becomes a wimpy, absurdly overpaid, .239-hitting sulker whose only headlines come when he's causing another clubhouse disturbance or not sliding into home plate. Maybe a prospering franchise could afford to keep him as a charity case, but the financially struggling Sox no longer can take the Thomas plunge for even one more season, much less a whopping four owed him under a contract that suddenly represents the biggest albatross in Jerry Reinsdorf's kingdom.
Only by executing the clause--doable because of Thomas' free-falling production this season--will the Sox have any chance of escaping a $40 million commitment to the aging slugger through 2006. The complex provision allows Reinsdorf to defer all but $250,000 per season, which could prompt Thomas to terminate the contract and become a free agent. It wouldn't be the smartest decision for Thomas, rejecting $39million in future earnings for what is certain to be a comparatively shrimpy deal from another big-league club, assuming one is interested. But Thomas has been through a bitter divorce and business troubles, meaning he might be willing to accept, say, $3.5 million a year elsewhere and relieve Reinsdorf of the huge long-term payout.
That Thomas even would consider such a deal shows how far he has slipped, on and off the field. But the Sox need to push him in that direction, tell him in no uncertain terms that he's no longer welcome. ''I don't want to be somewhere where I'm not wanted,'' he said recently, suggesting he might be agreeable to an escape hatch and a cheaper contract elsewhere. He has become the most untradeable player in the major leagues, with teams scared off by another provision that guarantees his final four seasons in full if he's traded. The only way the Sox can dump Thomas, then, is via clause-and-effect. They push the button, shrink his pay stubs to working-stiff levels--and, hopefully, he runs to another city.
Perhaps he'll even slide when he gets there.
Not much is riding here, only the viability of baseball on the South Side. If Thomas chooses to stay and wait for his deferred jackpot, it would limit what the Sox can pay other players-- eventual free agents Paul Konerko and Magglio Ordonez included--and sabotage the franchise's chances of contending anytime soon. As it is, the Sox are expected to lose up to $15 million this season, even after their recent fire sale. With attendance again in the bottom third of the majors and low crowds expected the last 71/2 weeks, the last thing the Sox need is an unproductive Thomas hogging an ample chunk of the payroll. In the worst-case scenario, the best player in franchise history conceivably could drag the franchise into near-oblivion.
In one sense, it was the best deal Reinsdorf ever did, allowing him a chance to slip away from a hefty commitment when a superstar crumbles. In another sense, it was the worst deal Reinsdorf ever did, allowing Thomas to become an internal plague for four more years if he decides to wait for his money. I might even recommend the Sox pay an unusually large part of his salary if that's what it takes to send him away. Whatever the method, they must get him out of here. Frank Thomas cannot be on the roster when the Sox report to Tucson next February.
If it's unfair to blame him for a lost season, given the missteps of inept general manager Kenny Williams, there's no doubt Thomas has become more divisive and counterproductive than valuable. He's a mental wreck in the batter's box, continuing a gradual slide since the late 1990s that paused only during his retro season in 2000. While he still knocks in runs here and there, his batting average is lower than that of Comiskey pariah Royce Clayton while his on-base percentage--once the hallmark of his awesome statistical lines-- has dropped lower than Tony Graffanino's. Another bad year has put him in another bad mood. As Konerko pointed out last month in his much-appreciated, anti-Thomas rant, his teammates are sick of it.
Not that their daggers have led to any dramatic improvements. Over the weekend in Tampa Bay, where the Sox stumbled around against the contraction-ready Devil Rays, Thomas once again exhibited why Sox fans call him The Big Skirt. He refused to slide on a play at home plate, as he often does, causing teammate Carlos Lee to call him out during a screaming match in the trainers' room. Never mind that Thomas looked safe. Sliding into home plate is a rite of professionalism, allowing a player to prove his willingness to get down and dirty and take one for the team. Back in 1994, Thomas refused to go hard into home plate during a game in Cleveland, causing Ozzie Guillen and other mates to rip him in the clubhouse.
Several years later, things haven't changed. On June 27, Thomas went in standing up against the division-leading Twins and was tagged out by catcher A.J. Pierzynski. Saturday night, he was thumbed out by umpire Steve Rippley, chewed out by Lee and singled out by manager Jerry Manuel, whose life has become preoccupied by Thomas-related incidents. What's so ridiculous here is that Lee is a blockhead who often gets picked off first base. He's also 26, eight years younger than Thomas yet understandably disrespectful of his elder.
''I just told him he needed to slide,'' said Lee, whose Sox future, too, is shaky.
''No doubt he should have slid,'' Manuel said. ''He was standing up and was tagged out. This guy has been playing for 35 years. He can't slide? He knows he has to slide. That was a big play for us. We would have still had first and third with no outs.''
Asked why he didn't address Thomas in the dugout, Manuel said, ''All the guys, they jump on him all the time.''
Ever hear of anything so sad? A two-time American League MVP, one of the game's most well-paid players, has become such a problem child that younger teammates are forced to verbally discipline him. Ten years ago, Thomas was as well-adjusted a young superstar as I'd seen. I'll never forget sitting with him one March morning in Florida and hearing him tell me, ''Hey, I got married over the winter. Did it in Vegas. I'm very happy.''
Since then, Thomas has been strung out by money, fame, big business, nightlife and a maturity motor running in reverse. If he once symbolized what was right about the White Sox, he now symbolizes what is wrong and stale.
There is a way to cut their losses and say goodbye. They have 54 days to figure out how to tell him.