What About Boise?

I am happy to report that after last week’s Ozzie-o-Rama, today’s post will be an Ozzie free society. You will see no mentions of Ozzie Smith and his pregame backflips, we will not compare the unmet power potential of former Cub Ozzie Timmons and former jailbird Ozzie Canseco, there will be no random references to the 1950‘s TV show The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, and bats, for once, need not fear the wrath of Ozzy Osbourne. Ozzie Virgil, Ozzie Newsome and Ossie Davis will also be completely off limits. In fact, just to be on the safe side, I will not even be talking about anyone named Ollie (I’m talking to you, 6th man on the Hickory High bench) and you will see no mentions of Fozzie Bear or hear him say his famous catch phrase***. Thank you for your support and understanding.

* I decided to allow “thewife” to have control of the remote Sunday night and by the time “World’s Most Extreme Homes” was over (what a terrible disappointment that Troy McClure’s post-modern tribute to fish was not featured) and I was able to turn on the Sox-Astros game, Houston had built a 9-2 lead and the game was in the eighth inning. Ignoring my insistence that, despite the 7-run deficit, the Sox still had a legitimate chance to win the game, she headed up to bed. Silly girl. Why read Harry Potter for the 674th time when you have the unique opportunity to watch the Tadahito Iguchi Show (brought to you by Mr. Sparkle?)

Remember back in the 90’s when Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen were roaming the court for the Bulls? Remember how, regardless of the score, you just knew that the game was never out of reach? Oh sure, the Bulls could be down 17 to the Pacers or the Knicks with five minutes to play, but you figured that Craig Hodges would catch fire behind the arc, or Bill Wennington would start knocking down that little 15-foot jumper or, if all else failed, Michael would just do his thing. That is precisely how it is for the Sox these days. This team could be down 6-0 with two outs and nobody on in the ninth, and you still cannot count the team out. Look, there are very few things you can count on in Chicago sports these days. Pretty much all we’ve got is that Dusty will continue to try and convince fans after every game that he really is a good manager and that things will get better once he has all his pieces (after all, I’m certainly counting down the days until Angel Pagan makes his triumphant return to the North Side), Rex Grossman, Eric Daze and [name a Cubs pitcher, any pitcher] will continue to be more likely to be in the training room that on the field or ice, and the Sox will continue to make their fans proud of their heart and hustle. At this point, with two outs in the last inning, I’d rather be wearing a Sox uniform and down four runs with Juan Uribe at the plate and nobody on base than be wearing a Cubs uniform and be down a single run with the bases loaded and Aramis or some other overpaid Cub who if given some Veritaserum would probably lament that things have gone steadily downhill at the plate ever since Sammy and his bulk discount left town (not to mention that damn Jose Canseco and his literary attempt to teach the world of the wonders of steroids and last ditch effort make money without resorting to auctioning off the right to spend a day with him in his Miami mansion. Wait a minute he already did that? What’s next? An appearance on the Surreal Life? Oh yeah, never mind).

* Sure, signing a long-term contract has its benefits (especially when your name is Darin Erstad and you are still getting paid $8 million per year, despite sporting a .220 batting average -- Erstad signed a four-year, $32 million contract after hitting .283 in 2002), but it has got to feel mighty good to be a free agent. If you are superstar you basically have 30 teams throwing money at you and you have an open choice regarding where to go. And the choices essentially are endless. Do you choose San Diego where it is always 73 degrees and sunny and you can rub noses with Shamu? Do you head to LA, where you can fail miserably in the clutch and nobody will ever know since everyone heads to Rodeo Drive to buy $2,000 booties for their dogs after the sixth inning? How about Motown, where you can bum cigarettes from Manager Jim Leyland and buy a house on the same block as Chauncey Billups, Eminem and Axel Foley? Seattle for some java to replace your pre-George Mitchell investigation dirty little secret? The south side of Chicago for the Jim Thome hand-knitted sweaters and the promise that George Michael will assuredly not be playing on the clubhouse stereo and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy will not be shown on the televisions? Wrigleyville because you bought Mark Grace’s little black book on E-Bay? Atlanta for the Gold Club? Milwaukee for the… Atlanta for the Gold Club?

Well, it looks more and more like Kerry Wood will gain coveted free agent status at the end of this year. Regardless of whether Wood is sidelined for the remainder of the season with his injured shoulder or whether he comes back and pitches effectively, you have got to figure that Jim Hendry and the Cubs will decline his $13.5 million option. And although the possibility remains that Wood and the Cubs may agree on an incentive-laden contract, you get the feeling that the Wood experiment in Chicago has run its course. After all, those MRI and X-Ray machines aren’t cheap. Not to mention all the consultations with House.

So, the big question is, are any teams actually going to be interested in signing a guy who is about as likely to make it through an entire season in one piece as Jabba the Hut is in replacing Anna Nicole Smith as the spokes(hut?)man for TrimSpa. The simple answer? Absolutely. Here is a guy who, despite his Yugo mechanics and the fact that when the ball leaves his hand it is as likely to hit the mascot as it is to find the strike zone, continues to have terrific stuff. Think a guy like Steinbrenner won’t take a chance on Kerry? Think the Red Sox, scared that a guy like Steinbrenner will take a chance on Kerry, won’t step up to the plate with a barrel of cash? Think that the Dodgers won’t be willing to add Kerry to their collection of ex-Cubs who were thought of as eternally injured, but become immediate all-star candidates once revived by either the Southern California sun or by something else equally invigorating and readily available in Tinseltown (ssssh, don’t tell Mia…)?

My guess is that should the Cubs sever ties with Wood, he will have plenty of ready suitors. The Diamondbacks will offer him Jason Grimsley’s old locker. Boston will offer free clam chowder at Melville’s and free beer at Cheers. Colorado will offer all the Rocky Mountain Oysters that one can eat. The Giants will offer a 10-bedroom home in the exclusive section of Telegraph Hill in the beautiful city of San Francisco. Across the Bay, the A’s will offer a 10-bedroom home in the exclusive section of Telegraph Hill in the beautiful city of San Francisco.

But making a decision will not just involve deciding whether he’d rather have knishes thrown at him and be called a worthless piece of horsecrap by hometown fans in New York or have cheesesteaks thrown at him and be called a worthless piece of dogcrap by fans in Philadelphia. Oh no. This is Kerry Wood we are talking about. The same Kerry Wood who cannot seem to go more than 60 pitches without having his shoulder turn to mush. Kerry has to do a lot more research than just choosing whether he prefers the Marlins’ offer of stone crabs and hanging out with the Golden Girls in South Florida or the Orioles’ offer of blue crabs and hanging out with Roc, Dr. Frederick Chilton, and the boys from the movie Diner at the Inner Harbor. I mean how much time will Kerry actually spend in the hometown city where he signs anyway? In the end Kerry really needs to do a little more research than your average free agent. He has got to consider where exactly he will be spending his time.

Well, you are in luck, Kerry, as I have done the lion’s share of the work for you. I have taken the initiative and already reviewed each major league team’s minor league affiliates so we can find the best place for you to continue your stellar minor league career. Please remember, this is the guy who is more likely to leave a game after aggravating an old sewing injury than pitch a complete game shutout. And when on the comeback trail, you certainly do not want to make your rehab starts in Peoria or Des Moines (just ask Mark Prior…or Derrek Lee… or Mark Prior again) or Syracuse. Sure, in Syracuse, you get to play for the Skychiefs, can visit the Jim Boeheim national museum of whining and will have the opportunity to take photographs of the post where a young Thomas Mapother III measured himself year-after-year, praying that someday he may actually reach 5’7 (sorry Tom, you may have a million dollar smile, unlimited riches and memories of banging , not only Nicole Kidman, Penelope Cruz, and Katie Holmes, but, more impressively, Rebecca DeMornay on the ‘El as a North Shore teenager, but some dreams are simply too big to come true), but you have to live…in Syracuse.

So, I have identified three possible destinations for Kerry and present them below:

New York Yankees: Sign with the Evil Empire and you have to take the good with the bad. A first stop in Charleston (SC) playing for the Single A River Dogs would be sweet. South Carolina barbeque, beautiful southern scenery, a Margaritaville store, and a chance to visit the one and only H.S. Hunley await you in this gem of a city. The problem lies once you move up the ladder. Double A means a stop in Trenton, New Jersey to pitch for the Thunder. Visiting the schoolyard where a young Norman Schwarzkopf unleashed daily beatings on a young Antonin Scalia until they realized that they were two of the few local members of the Thomas Dewey fan club would be cool, as would spending a couple hours at either the buffet where Charlie Weis subscribed to the body by pork rinds theory or the makeup counter where Dennis Rodman learned the proper way to apply blush and eyeliner, but at the end of the day, you are still dodging bullets on your way to and from the ballpark. It’s enough to cause a sudden and mysterious injury setback, causing you to head back to the Low Country for another visit to Fort Sumpter.

Florida Marlins: It really does not matter with the Marlins until you get to head to Albuquerque to play for the Isotopes at the Triple A level. Homer, Lenny and Carl may not have been pleased with the potential move, but Kerry will love it. Albuquerque has got to be one of the most underappreciated cities in America and grass is overrated anyway. Besides any city that produced NFL hard hitter Ronnie Lott, is responsible for developing the creative minds of the Maloof brothers (four words: Palms, cheerleaders, beck and call), and is the birthplace of the creator of Beavis and Butt-Head is a place that I want to add to my must visit list. Not to mention the fact that the education system produced Doogie Howser, M.D., who was removing gall bladders before his parents had even stopped spanking him for coloring on the walls. Huh Huh. He said spank. Huh Huh. Yeah. Heh Heh. That was cool.

And tell me that you are going to find a better stadium promotion that Nuclear Plant Employee, Spouse and No More The Three Children Night. I mean, unless you are Steve Garvey.

Los Angeles Dodgers. Once again, the lower levels are largely irrelevant. One only needs to focus on Triple A with the Dodgers. And, with the Dodgers, we are not talking about a place where Rodman first tried out a little rouge, we are talking about actually getting the opportunity to apply the rouge to Dennis while hoping that the shooter rolls a hard eight. With the Dodgers, we are not talking about the place where the brothers with the oh so wonderful cheerleader idea spent their youth, we are actually talking about the cheerleaders. Heck, with the Dodgers, we are talking Barry Manilow at the Hilton!

Yes, Kerry, we are talking about Sin City…Las Vegas, Nevada. A place that fits you to a tee. After all nobody pitches a better simulated game than you. And nobody does simulation better than Vegas.

Quick, call Prior. You just got comped at the noodle bar.

Yes, it took a little more research for you to find the perfect new home than it does for your run-of-the-mill, healthy, likely to pitch with the big club free agent. All they have to be concerned with is whether the Indians are offering free tickets to the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame, whether signing with the Nationals runs the risk of having their rather peculiar habit of wearing women’s underwear reported by Murphy Brown on FYI, and whether they will be embarrassed that Rangers or Astros fans may discover, upon their arrival, that management has thrown the entire concept of everything is bigger in Texas right out the window with their signing. You have to be concerned with the important stuff… like whether the rickety team bus will be driven by Ralph Kramden or Otto.

Good luck.

***Today's pop culture trivia: What famous catch-phrase did Fozzie Bear end all of his jokes with?

Note: Once again, my days are all messed up. Despite the fact that this post is dated Tuesday, it was written last night and is actually Monday's effort. I will, once again, do my best to get something new up this afternoon (for Tuesday). Stupid work...cramping my style.