Ozzie's act wore out in Chicago
The smell of alcohol was strongly on Ozzie Guillen’s breath and his eyes were glassy. Guillen had been thrown out of the game an hour or so earlier and spent the final innings in his office, watching on TV.
Before the game, he had used a nasty homophobic slur to describe another columnist in Chicago.
I told Guillen that I was going to rip him for it in the papers the next day but wanted to give him a chance to explain first. He said, “I don’t have anything against those people.’’
Those people?
“I get my hair cut by one of them. I go to WNBA games. I went to the Madonna concert!’’
He also said he was going to be in the parade at the Gay Games.
This was not the moment people will remember about Guillen’s years as manager of the Chicago White Sox. His era ended Monday night. No, he will be remembered as the guy who brought a World Series championship to Chicago. He will go down as an icon in a city of icons, albeit one who talked too much.
But that moment in 2006, when he used Madonna tickets and a gay barber as proof of his enlightenment, was his defining moment. It defined him as unstable, irresponsible, out of control. It also defined him another way:
Tough-talking, honest, excessive bravado. It is exactly what plays in a locker room. It not only got his players on his side, but also his fans in a city of broad shoulders. Guillen was the face of the White Sox for eight years, and he made a second team relevant in a Chicago Cubs town.
It’s what made him a Chicago sports hero. It’s what allowed him to lead the White Sox to the World Series.
It’s also what ended up getting him kicked out the door this week.
In the end, Guillen is out because he made a power play. He and general manager Kenny Williams stopped getting along a couple of years ago and stopped talking earlier this season. For both of them, it was the same childish tough-guy code they live their lives by. With the Florida Marlins’ job opening, and Marlins owner Jeffrey Loria wanting Guillen, this was the perfect time for Guillen to make his move.
He went to White Sox chairman Jerry Reinsdorf and demanded a contract extension with a fat raise. And he and Williams couldn’t work together anymore. So Williams had to go, too.
Instead, Reinsdorf chose Williams over Guillen. And now Guillen is gone.
That is the danger of an ultimatum. If it was going to be one or the other, Reinsdorf should have fired Williams, who hasn’t been piecing together good teams. He also spent $56 million on Adam Dunn.
Really, Reinsdorf should have fired both Williams and Guillen. Both still are living on one World Series. Both have played themselves out. At some point, it’s just time. Managers and executives have a shelf life.
But the point about Guillen is that the trait that made him a success was the same one that did him in. The big, tough-guy mouth was not motivating players anymore, not finding any magic. He became ineffectual, though no matter where you put Dunn in the lineup, it was going to be wrong.
By the end, Guillen’s mouth was no longer taking pressure off his players, but rather becoming a distraction to them.
So Guillen asked to be let out of the final year of his contract, and the Sox obliged. He will become the Florida Marlins’ manager and immediately become the face of that franchise, too. He is a perfect fit there: successful, familiar with the area and multilingual.
It’s going to work for him there. And then it’s going to fail. And he will miss being relevant in a sports-crazy town.
Guillen reportedly is going to get $4 million a year for four years, twice his White Sox pay. Before Monday’s game, and hours before his ouster was public, Guillen said that he would be broke with the White Sox: “I’ve got to talk to my wife, and she’s got to cut the shopping process and Ozzie (Jr.) has got to quit drinking a little bit and (son) Oney has to go to work. Ozney has got to go to public school and hopefully get a scholarship somewhere. My mom’s got to cut a little bit, my dad’s got to get healthy, my sister’s got to find a rich man.’’
He said that World Series rings don’t matter, but that money does.
So he was ripped Tuesday for saying so. The truth is, Guillen didn’t mean that. He wanted love, not money. But Reinsdorf chose Williams.
Guillen just opens his mouth too much, and you never know what’s going to come out.
He once told me that he felt Latino players were being unfairly picked on during steroid testing. The way baseball tests players, no one but the league knows who passes and who fails. The results, then, are easy to manipulate. So l wrote a glowing column about him in the Chicago Sun-Times, saying he was finally using his mouth for good. The following morning, after theoretically catching heat from the league or his front office, he backed off. He said he hadn’t actually meant that.
Well, Guillen just didn’t want to go into next year as a lame duck manager. And he wanted Williams out. So he started complaining about the money during the season, when the Sox were still in contention.
He became a distraction. See, Guillen’s quotes were always great theater. And when the team is winning, they can be cute. When he’s losing, they are just irritating. His mouth was accepted at first, labeled as just Ozzie being Ozzie. Eventually, he didn’t get that pass.
He wears you out after a while, brings unwanted drama. Ozzie being Ozzie once meant a World Series. Now it means he’s got to go.
He says he has no regrets, but that was predictable.
Words mean something. Guillen forever will be a Chicago legend partly for his. Now he’ll just be a Chicago legend in a Marlins uniform in South Beach.