Come to Think of It...My Name Is Alfonso Soriano—But You Can Call Me Sammy

The more I watch the enigma known as Alfonso Soriano, the more I sadly realize I am watching the reincarnation of Sammy Sosa.

Yes, that Sammy Sosa who was loved by many fans yet thrown away quickly once he dared stain the sacred blue pinstripes by doing things such as leaving early from a ballgame and using a corked bat.

Oh, and another thing: he stopped hitting 60 home runs per season.

That's the story with guys who gravitate toward showmanship like Sosa, and yes, Soriano. Cubs fans love them while they're producing, blind to the special treatment they demand, and to the isolation and addition of "i" to "team" that surrounds them.

And sure, maddening inconsistency and injuries are part of the deal too.

Now, I'm certainly not trying to draw any parallels between Sosa's bulk and Soriano's frame, for there is likely nothing in common there, but there are other traits that come to mind that meld the two of them together.

For Alfonso Soriano, his little hops when he catches a fly ball sure reminds me of Sammy's little bunny hops as he hit another prodigious, though chemically enhanced, home run.

And the all-or-nothing swing from the heels at anything near the area code of the strike zone approach at the plate seems vaguely familiar.

Granted, thus far, Soriano hasn't done anything specific to make anyone think he's a pariah in the clubhouse. But nothing seemed wrong in Sammy's world either when he was producing.

For when players like this stop producing, they expose their flaws. And the underbelly of the creature that hits home runs but can do little else on a baseball field is not pretty, let me assure you.

For if you check under a rock, be prepared to find creepy, crawly things.

At one time, Sammy was sleek and fast, like a thoroughbred. He stole bases, he glided in the outfield after fly balls. 

Soriano, too, was that kind of player once. Very recently, in fact, although defense was never his forte. 

The Cubs aren't paying him $136 million dollars just to hit home runs. He was a 40-40 man, that rare combination of power and speed and athleticism.

Ah, but no more. One signed contract later, and the man can't run any more. He doesn't trust his legs, except to run to the bank to cash his enormous checks.

And a player who is one dimensional can be a burden to a ballclub, especially when that club is trying to win a championship, as the Cubs were in 2003 and are now again in 2008.

Unlike Sosa, whom the Cubs were conveniently able to divorce themselves from in short order following the most damaging of events, Soriano will be a fixture in Wrigley Field for many more seasons. He makes too much money to trade. Especially with his numbers fizzling compared to the career year he enjoyed in his free agent walk year.

I don't claim to know either man. But it sure seems obvious to this humble urban dweller that the psychology of both men are somewhat aligned.

The id, ego, and super-ego are the three parts of the psychic apparatus defined in Freud's theoretical construct. The id, or unconscious drive, is the part of the brain that controls the need for pleasure, and is largely subconscious.

In contrast, the ego is influenced by the exterior world. For some ballplayers, particularly Latino ballplayers who grew up in poverty, worshipping ballplayers like Sosa and Clemente, the ego is manifested, in part, through the fulfillment of being highly paid and respected by one's peers. In modern day society, the ego is an inflated sense of self-worth.

Look, if a ballplayer is paid millions and millions of dollars and is shown the ultimate respect by being one of the highest paid players in the world, part of what externally drives a man is satisfied. Therefore, once you give him that stuff, he doesn't really need to continue to push himself to work as hard.

That is not to say that Soriano hasn't been working hard. Yet hamstring injuries can be caused, sometimes, by being out of shape.

Not out of shape as in fat, necessarily, because Soriano certainly looks to be in excellent physical condition. But the difference between a finely tuned athelete's condition and just looking good are very distinct, yet difficult to know.

But forget all this psychological and ideological crap. The point here is that we love our heroes and we also love to tear them down. And it's a what-have-you-done-for-me-lately world. As quickly as a baseball player can become a star, the reckoning can be much faster and much more painful.

It is what it is and Soriano is who he is. Maybe he won't turn out to be anything like Sosa. Maybe this is just a bump in the road, and the rest of his Cubs career will be awesome. Maybe fans will judge Soriano in a much different light than they came to judge Sosa.

Come to think of it, maybe there is a Santa Claus after all, Virginia.