My antibiotics give me sleeplessness. At 3 a.m., unable to sleep, I scrolled through Facebook and saw several posts about the retirement of Alfonso Soriano.
Now, I was wide awake.
For some reason, Fonsi leaving the game gave me a great sadness. Anyone who has been a Cubs fan for the last 10 years or so understands the love/hate relationship we had with the guy.
By the time the Cubs signed Soriano as a free agent in 2007, he was a seasoned veteran with a pretty impressive career, but most people agreed he was not worth $136 million deal, especially an 8-year deal. He had some good years, but not great years. He was not the 40-40 or 30-30 guy anymore. His knees were shot and his speed was gone. He still hit home runs, towering ones that came from nowhere, but this man who used to lead the league in walks now struck out once a day at least. He had become a left fielder before he got the Cubs, and sometimes he made impressive plays, but mostly he was the guy trotting toward the fly balls, always ceding to the center fielder or the shortstop. He was the guy who missed routine pop ups a couple times a year. He was the guy everyone booed from the bleachers. He was the guy with the cannon for an arm---if he got his hands on the ball at all. And he often did not.
The players loved him, though. Every team he played for, and especially the Cubs, considered him their number one clubhouse leader. He was the guy who pepped them up. He was the guy who made them believe they could win. He took the kids out to dinner and he was always a big tipper to the Cubs employees. During batting practice, he was joking with the other Dominicans, flirting and winking at the girls in the stands, and creating a fun atmosphere. Maybe he should've been shagging balls, but according to the boys in blue, he was the hardest-working guy on the team, and he was in incredible pain every step he took. He was never healthy. It was a hamstring, or a knee, or his hand, or his back. It was always something, because he was getting older. He was 30 when he signed with the Cubs, and 30 in baseball is middle age. You're well past your prime. He was supposed to play with the Cubs until he was 38 years old, a free coffee at McDonalds, a discount on a hotel room, senior citizen in baseball years.
Piniella was open about his lost faith in Sori, and moved him from the leadoff position to the middle of the lineup. Soriano accepted it, said he knew it was for the good of the team. And the change in the order actually worked out for him--when he could stay healthy.
Mike Quade took over at the end of the 2010 season and stayed for 2011. I still don't know what he was doing there. But sources say that he didn't do much to nurture the players, and he had no use for Soriano.
Then in 2012, Dale Sveum showed up, and suddenly Soriano was hitting again. Fonsi gushed praise for Sveum and the new coaches, saying that having people believe in him changed everything for him. He wasn't the 30-30 guy anymore, but he was hitting home runs consistently. Everyone thought he would be traded. But no one wanted that salary attached to that old man.
Finally, in 2013, the Yankees took him, and that was that.
As Cubs fans will, they both complained and praised about the trade. The players were sad and gave lots of sad quotes to the media about losing their leader. Most of those players are also gone.
In July 2014, the Yankees designated him for assignment. The Yankees do that a lot because they have the money to throw away. They do it to young players who are too late to find a spot on another team, and they do it to old guys who need to be put down. ESPN.com quotes Alfonso as saying, "I've lost the love and passion to play the game. Right now, my family is the most important thing. Although I consider myself in great shape, my mind is not focused on baseball." Not exactly a Lou Gehrig speech, but still touching and sad. He'll probably live out the rest of his life in his native Dominican Republic, and maybe he won't touch a baseball again.
I liked him. He was a broken down old mare, but I liked him. I liked that wide smile. He used to blow me kisses and throw me balls and wink at me. He only stopped for autographs one time in all the many hundreds of games I went to, and we took a photo. I didn't know much about autographs then. He autographed a cheap team ball and it has faded now, so I have no autograph from him. I do have the picture, though. I remember he smelled fantastic. And I remember high-fiving him after almost every game.
My dad was a big fan of his. He always brought up the 40 home run, 40 stolen base season and he would always say that Sori could do it again. We just had to be patient. That was my dad. He could never badmouth the hometown guys. But the Cubs are a different team now. It's all about youth. There is no place for an Alfonso Soriano type on this team. The clubhouse leader is the young, reckless Anthony Rizzo, who, at 24, is one of the veterans now. Remember, you have to think in baseball years.
So I say goodbye to you, Alfonso Soriano. I wish you could have retired at the end of the season after winning the last game with a home run in the bottom of the ninth. I wish you hadn't heard the boos. I wish you hadn't been forced out. But good for you for retiring when the love was gone. I'll always have a place in my heart for you.
