Cubs trying to be oblivious to playoff pressure: 'Dumb it down'


Cubs trying to be oblivious to playoff pressure: 'Dumb it down'

PITTSBURGH — Jonathan Herrera walked into PNC Park’s visiting clubhouse on Tuesday afternoon wearing a homemade rally helmet with two detached hands glued on top, capturing the spontaneous celebration/inside joke the Cubs have turned into a signature move.

The Cubs are only guaranteed nine more innings this season, but this still feels like the opening of a competitive window for a core group of young players and what has been a sleeping-giant franchise.

The Pittsburgh Pirates are a well-run, small-market team playing in the National League wild-card game for the third year in a row. The Pirates haven’t won a playoff series since their 1979 World Series title.

Which team will feel more pressure on Wednesday night?

“It’s certainly not on us,” said Anthony Rizzo, the All-Star first baseman who’s been such a huge building block for the Cubs. “We don’t feel any pressure.”

[MORE CUBS: How Jake Arrieta transformed himself into the Cubs ace]

Of course, the Cubs have 1908, the Billy Goat curse, Bartman and a star manager who has zero interest in talking about the past.

“Cubs history is wonderful,” Joe Maddon said. “The tradition of being a Chicago Cub, I think, is outstanding. And I’m talking about players, the ballpark, the city and (everything) attached to that.

“Superstition, for me, has no place in Cubs history or tradition. If you choose to vibrate there, that’s your concern. For our guys, it’s about playing winning baseball every night. And that’s it.

“I don’t want them to get caught up in stuff that really doesn’t matter. I want us to be more process-oriented as opposed to outcome-oriented. And if you really focus on today, that other stuff really should not matter.”

[MORE CUBS: Kris Bryant wants to keep the surprises coming in playoffs]

Jon Lester won two World Series rings with the Boston Red Sox, but he doesn’t remember a ballpark louder than Kauffman Stadium during last year’s American League wild-card game. As a hired-gun for the Oakland A’s, Lester got a no-decision in a game the Royals would win in 12 innings, pushing them toward the World Series.

“Tomorrow is just a different animal,” Lester said before Tuesday’s workout. “It’s so unique. It’s do or die. You’re trying to get your home-field advantage, and these guys are rocking from Pitch 1.”

The young Cubs can talk about it all they want, Lester said, but they still won’t know what it’s like until they actually experience a real playoff environment.

“The game doesn’t change,” Lester said. “The fastball down and away that you locate works just the same as it does (in) Game 7 of the World Series as it does on April 15th. That doesn’t change.

“It’s just now you’ve got a little more adrenaline. You’ve got the buzz of the crowd (being) a little louder. The ramifications for bad pitches matter a little bit more. Your heart rate is going to be a little higher in that first inning. After that, you should be able to settle right back in and just go about your business.”

[MORE CUBS: Maddon, Hurdle love the drama of one-game playoff]

Lester remembered standing in this same clubhouse in early August and saying how he became a big believer in “playing stupid.”

Lester noticed how Maddon’s Tampa Bay Rays teams played loose and came across as naïve during that shocking run to the 2008 World Series, seeing the same qualities developing here.

“I like playing dumb,” Lester said. “I like going in and not knowing what to expect and just try to play baseball. Dumb it down the best you can to: ‘Hey, we need to get three outs.’ Or: ‘We need to make this pitch.’

“The quicker you can do that, the easier it is to handle the adrenaline and handle the atmosphere and handle everything that’s going on around you.

“I’m not worried about them chanting whatever. You give up a leadoff double and the stands are going crazy, you’re worried about executing the next pitch and not letting that guy get to third. Dumb it down.”

Glanville: Fall to Spring - A player’s offseason changes meaning with each changing season


Glanville: Fall to Spring - A player’s offseason changes meaning with each changing season

A few weeks after the we (the Cubs) were eliminated from the 2003 playoffs, I got a phone call from my college professor. Since it was officially the off-season, I was in the early stages of a break from following a pocket schedule to tell me where to be every day for nearly eight months.

But this was a man I could not refuse. I chose my college major to go into his field of transportation engineering and he was calling because he needed a teaching assistant to accompany him on his trip to South Africa.

One minute I could barely move off of my couch in my Chicago apartment after losing Game 7 against the Marlins. The next minute, I would be standing within miles of the Southern most point in Africa at the Cape of Good Hope. Why not? I needed the distraction so I agreed to go.

The offseason is its own transition. Leaving the regimen of routine, of batting practice and bus times, to an open ended world that you have to re-learn again. When I finished my first full major league season in 1997, I lived in Streeterville at the Navy Pier Apartments.

That offseason, I decided to stay an extra month in Chicago only to wake up panicked for the first two weeks because I thought I was missing stretch time for a home day game. A major league schedule becomes etched in your DNA after a while.

It is also a time that you get to reflect. The regular season does not give you a moment to really get perspective on what was just accomplished, what it all means, what you would change. I always joked about the T-shirt I wanted to a sell that listed all of the things a major league player figures out during the off-season. From the perfect swing to the ex-girlfriend you need to un-break-up with next week.

It all becomes so clear when a 96 MPH fastball isn’t coming at you.

For years, I would arrange a training program to follow, but I quickly learned that I had to mix it up. There was only so much repetition I could stand in the off-season. So some years, I moved to the site of spring training and worked out early with the staff, other years I found a spot at home where I grew up or wherever I played during the season, to train.

I was single when I played, but now with a family, I have a better understanding of the challenges my teammates would express as they were re-engaging as a daily father again after this long absentee existence.

To keep it fresh and spicy, when I got older in the game, I enrolled in a dance studio and took a winter of dance lessons. Salsa, Foxtrot, Rumba, you name it. On Thursdays we had to dance for an hour straight, changing partners in the room every song change. Dancing with the Stars had nothing on me.

Of course, not every offseason is fun and games. There were years when I wasn’t sure I would have a job the next year, or I was in the throes of a trade rumor. In 1997, I was traded from the Cubs to the Phillies two days before Christmas. In 2002, my father passed away on the last game of the season, leading the offseason to be a time of mourning.

By my final season in 2005, I thought I was officially on my couch forever. I was going to fade away into oblivion like many players do. No fanfare, the phone just would stop ringing and I would just let the silence wash over me. The Yankees had called earlier in that off-season, acting like they were doing me a favor which I turned down, then they called back later with a more open tone, seeing me as a potential key piece in their outfield with Bernie Williams slowing down quite a bit at that point.

I did get off that couch for that call, only to get released the last week of camp, so I was back on the couch, with a fiancé and some extra salt in the wounds after that final meeting with Brian Cashman and Joe Torre, who boxed me into the coaches office to tell me I was released. Released? Come on. Never had that happen before.

The Cubs players will go through all of this if they have the good fortune of playing a long time. The wave of uncertainty, the meaning of age in this game spares no one. Each offseason is a time to reset, a period where you get away, seemingly adrift from the game, then as spring gets closer, the shoreline comes up in the horizon once again, magnetically drawing you to its shores for another season.

Amazingly, you don’t always know your age and what it has done to your body. 34 can’t be that old, right? I can still run, or throw 95. Then those 23-year-olds in camp are the wake up call, or maybe you are that 23-year-old and can’t believe your locker is next to Ryne Sandberg’s.

Then you blink, and you are advising Jimmy Rollins about etiquette and realize you have become that guy, the seasoned vet, preaching about locker room respect.

For the 2018 Cubs, they fell short of their goal to repeat their 2016 magic. Failed to meet their singular destination that meant success over all else. Yet, those who come back for 2019, will not be the same player, the same person, that left the locker room at the close this season. They will have grown, changed, aged, wizened up, rehabbed, hardened. All of which means that new perspective is the inevitable part of this time off, whether you like it or not.

Baseball is a game that has this unique dynamic. The highest intensity rhythm of any sport. Every day you are tested. You are pushed to the brink by sheer attrition. According to my teammate Ed Smith, who was playing third base at the time when Michael Jordan reached third, Jordan, after playing well over 100 games in a row, said to him “Man, I have never been this tired in my entire life.”

The grind.

Then it stops on a dime. Season over. Only on baseball’s terms.

But you may be granted another spring. Another crack at it. Until one day, the baseball winter never ends and its time for you to plant your own spring.

Remember that guy? Former Cubs shortstop Ricky Gutiérrez

Remember that guy? Former Cubs shortstop Ricky Gutiérrez

Ricky Gutiérrez played in the Majors from 1993-2004. He played shortstop for the Cubs from 2000-01 and later signed with them again in June 2004. 

However, Gutiérrez never got back to the Majors with the Cubs, who sent him to the Red Sox the following month. His final Major League game was with the Red Sox on Oct. 3, 2004, the final game of the 2004 regular season; he didn’t play in the 2004 postseason. Gutiérrez was subsequently signed and released by a few other teams, including the White Sox in 2005.

Gutiérrez holds the distinction of being the first Cubs player to hit a regular season grand slam against the White Sox (July 12, 2001). In his two seasons with the Cubs, he tied for the Major League lead in sacrifice bunts both years (16 in 2000, 17 in 2001) which was odd since he had a grand total of 18 sacrifice bunts in his 847 career games NOT in a Cubs uniform. He also had uncharacteristic power with the Cubs:  21 home runs for Chicago in 272 games, 17 home runs with everyone else (847 games).

What Cubs fans probably remember most is what Gutiérrez did against them. On May 6, 1998 he had the lone hit (many dispute it should have been ruled an error) for the Astros off Kerry Wood in Wood’s 20-strikeout masterpiece at Wrigley Field (Gutiérrez was responsible for two of the strikeouts). 

Later that season, on June 26, the number 20 and Gutiérrez were again connected when he had a 20-pitch battle against Bartolo Colón, which ended in a strikeout. It remained the last plate appearance in the Majors of at least 20 pitches until Brandon Belt flew out on the 21st pitch of an at-bat against the Angels' Jaime Barria on April 22, 2018.

Gutiérrez’s nephew, James Jones, played 14 seasons in the NBA for the Pacers, Suns, Trail Blazers, Heat and Cavaliers.