Many Cubs fans glad to see Sosa go

CHICAGO – In the good old days, all Sammy Sosa had to do was hop and the Wrigley Field faithful dissolved in delirium.

The venerable ballpark rocked with chants of “SAM-MEE! SAM-MEE!” every time he hit one of his monstrous home runs, and he was greeted like royalty when he raced out to right field. Chicago was starved for a superstar after Michael Jordan left, and it wholeheartedly embraced Sosa.

But the love affair was surprisingly brief and, despite the full-page ads Sosa took out in the local papers Thursday to say thank you, the breakup was ugly. Unfathomable to see him in anything but Cubby blue five years ago, Sosa now sports a Baltimore Orioles jersey. Cubs fans were not only OK with that, many heartily approved.

“I think it was best for the team,” said Dustin Johnson, a Cubs fan. “We don’t want to see 60-homer seasons. We want to see winning seasons.”

Other stars have had acrimonious goodbyes. Just look at Jordan, who retired for a second time rather than watch then-general manager Jerry Krause dismantle his dynasty.

But Sosa’s diminishing numbers and his spats with teammates and manager Dusty Baker turned fans against him. In a Chicago Tribune poll earlier this week, 76 percent said the Cubs were better off without Sosa.

“I feel sad that it had to end the way that it did,” Cubs general manager Jim Hendry said. “Obviously, he made some mistakes late in the year. But he really deserves a better fate than has been cast upon him the last couple of months.”

Sosa always was an offensive powerhouse, hitting 40 homers in 1996 despite missing the last six weeks with a broken hand. But the summer of 1998 made him an icon.

By August, he and Mark McGwire were in a battle to see who would first reach Roger Maris’ record of 61 home runs. Fans couldn’t get enough of the happy-go-lucky Sosa, his infectious smile, rags-to-riches story and posthomer heart taps and kisses blown to his mother, and his race with McGwire rejuvenated baseball.

McGwire got the home run record, hitting 70 to Sosa’s 66, but Sosa became the star. He was voted National League Most Valuable Player for leading the Cubs to the N.L. wild card, their first postseason appearance since 1989, and was feted all over the world.

Sosa continued to hit homers in bunches over the next few seasons, becoming the only player with three 60-homer seasons. Fans packed Wrigley even with the Cubs mired in mediocrity again, knowing they had a chance to see Sosa go deep whenever he stepped to the plate.

“People liked him when he was hitting home runs,” Chicago resident Pat Moriarty said. “Everybody liked him then.”

Well, not everybody. Sosa was never close to his teammates – you’d never find him sitting around the clubhouse after a game like Mark Grace – and many were annoyed with what they saw as a me-first attitude.

Take his music. In most clubhouses, the starting pitcher gets to pick it. But Sosa set up a hulking boombox next to his locker and cranked the volume to deafening levels, playing a mix of salsa, rap and light rock. His teammates didn’t like ita t all, but the music blared on.

When Sosa ducked out early the last game of the season, someone took a bat to his radio.

His goodwill with fans began eroding in 2003, when he was caught using a corked bat, and the disenchantment grew. His numbers dropped and an April 2003 beaning and series of other injuries took a toll on his swing.

Fans started criticizing him for being selfish, too. After the Cubs came within five outs in 2003 of getting to their first World Series since 1945, his home runs were no longer enough. Fans wanted wins, not personal accolades.

Sosa also was clashing with his teammates and Baker, who’d become a hero in Chicago for turning around the woeful Cubs.

By the end of 2004, Sosa was hearing boos at Wrigley. When he skipped out on that last game, it was the last straw. Fans lobbied for the Cubs to trade him in the off-season, and booed when they saw his picture at the annual team convention last month – unheard of at what’s normally a lovefest.