Zambrano script familiar to Cubs

Suddenly, everyone recognizes Carlos Zambrano is a fool.

Amazing how that happens at a time like this.

It’s as though it just occurred. It’s as though Zambrano became a bad guy overnight. It’s as though he went from saint to sinner, from angel to devil with the flip of a switch.

Then again, we’ve seen this movie before.

It was in October 2004 when last we saw the Cubs go to this extreme to trump up charges and run a player out of town after a decade of encouraging bad behavior.

Sammy Sosa was perhaps the all-time fraud, a personality born of desire and profit, an impostor designed to deceive and receive.

He was a product of the Cubs and Major League Baseball, a sales device that shook the cash registers, raking in tens of millions through tickets sold, concessions, jerseys and T-shirts.

Sosa smiled, shook hands, kissed babies and hit meaningless 500-foot homers with a juiced body he claimed was forged by Flintstones vitamins.

In reality, it was Sosa who was forged from top to bottom.

The Cubs knew it. The Cubs knew it as far back as 1994 when they seriously considered getting rid of him.

But they were addicted to his power and his flash and all the money and publicity that came with it.

And every time Andy MacPhail had the opportunity to cut him loose, he would make the easy call and sign Sosa to another expensive extension.

The Cubs paid him $100 million to be Slammin’ Sammy, the Steaming Shill, the Phony Phanatic, and knew precisely what they were getting for every dollar.

Along the way they defended him, coddled him, enabled him, encouraged him and covered up for him.

And always, they paid him — and paid for him, selling their souls as they sold out Wrigley Field.

Through corked bats, deleterious sneezes, temper tantrums, missed flights and performance enhancers, the Cubs stood by his side and dared those who criticized him to fight public opinion.

Ah, but the same public opinion that was nearly 100 percent in Sosa’s corner through every disgraceful moment had to be turned against Sosa, and the moment he was no longer a useful cog in the Little Blue Machine, shoveled quickly was his carcass under the bus.

He left the park early on the final day of the 2004 season. Sosa lied about it and the Cubs convicted him in the court of public opinion, sentencing him to a life without worship.

They had to in order to turn the fans against him and give the team the fortitude to trade him.

Without that, they would have been stuck with him.

It probably wasn’t in the top 100 worst things Sosa did during his time on the North Side, but it was all the team needed to destroy his place in Cubs history and crush his popularity.

The Cubs, MLB and an international media created Frankenstein, and then shrieked with horror when he began snacking on the townsfolk.

Which brings us back to Zambrano. His reputation was already gone, but the Cubs still needed a way to get out from under a bad contract and make certain no fans would balk.

So the story line, narrated in large part by the suddenly tough-talking Mike Quade — who was just recently expressing his love and admiration for Zambrano’s fire and emotion — is that Zambrano abandoned his brothers on the battlefield.

Sure, the Cubs could have tried to move Zambrano last fall after his 8-0 finish with a 1.24 ERA the final six weeks, but instead they believed he could help them compete this season.

Now that he can’t, he’s given them the perfect opportunity to toss his career to the vultures.

Just like the Cubs knew Sosa’s time would end badly here, the same was true of Zambrano. Yet, quick were they to hand him $91 million without a mention in the deal that they could terminate the contract if he acted like an idiot, say, 52 more times.

Shocked, shocked they are that he has put on his clown suit yet again.

For the hard of reading, I had no use for Sosa and I have none for Zambrano. And I don’t blame the Cubs one bit for wanting to be done with him, save money and move on.

But save the righteous indignation, the nonsense about leaving his 24 comrades in the heat of combat.

Forgive me while I puke.

If you have half a brain you understand the plot line.

The Cubs and every one of those 24 “soldiers” put up with Zambrano and applauded every stupid move as long as he was successful, and now that he’s not they’ve thrown him under the bus, run him over, backed up over him and run him over again.

Yeah, the similarities to the Sosa ending are hard to ignore.

That movie was bad enough, and the show smelled of stale tales.

It’s not surprising the sequel stinks, too.

brozner@dailyherald.com

ŸListen to Barry Rozner from 9 a.m. to noon Sundays on the Score#146;s #147;Hit and Run#148; show at WSCR 670-AM. Follow him @BarryRozner on Twitter.