Zambrano needs changeup, not checkup

It would be too simple for Carlos Zambrano to just tell the truth.

Too easy for everyone involved.

If he were being honest with himself, he would say that he hasn't been very good at throwing a baseball for at least the last few months.

He would say that for the last two-plus years, he hasn't been worth his considerable salary and that the contract now looks disastrous, which is a shock to many but hardly to everyone.

He would admit that what he was feeling in the dugout Friday wasn't some virtuous desire to wake up his team and instill some passion - an absurd excuse, by the way - and that he takes as much responsibility after a tantrum as a 2-year-old, which would be an insult to all 2-year-olds.

He would admit that he was angry because he can't make guys like Carlos Quentin swing and miss right now and that he's frustrated with an inability to dominate hitters.

The reality is he's bad. If he were good, he would have found a way out of that inning without 4 runs scoring, or he would have come in off the field and gotten himself ready for the next inning.

But he's bad - sent-to-the-bullpen-again bad - and he doesn't know what to do, so his despair led to yet another idiotic Zambrano display.

There have been dozens of times over the years that Zambrano has shown up a teammate on the field, and dozens of times Zambrano has avoided confrontation because he was good enough to overcome bad fielding and get out of the inning.

What made him so angry Friday is that he couldn't do it. Let's face it, he's lost right now on the mound.

And so the end result is the farcical drama of the restricted list and the notion that physicians will help him change his behavior.

It will be acted out with doctors in New York, Zambrano playing Bellevue basketball, positioned under the hoop and dunking for the team while searching for a stick of Juicy Fruit.

Of course, it's all well orchestrated, nicely played and handled by all sides.

The Cubs wanted to keep him away from the team and suspend him without pay for as long as possible, since he serves no purpose on the field.

The players association and his agent weren't going to allow that to happen, so they all got together and found a way to keep Zambrano away from the team - with pay, which makes his agent and the union happy.

He loses three days' salary, roughly $300,000, which is hardly what the Cubs were hoping for, but at least it's a fine.

He goes on the restricted list and tells doctors what they want to hear, so they will send the Cubs a good report.

It gives Zambrano a chance to save face and then appear contrite when he returns, a tearful apology to his teammates, the organization and most of all - most of all - the beloved Cubs fans who have cheered him and supported him all along, period, close quote.

Nonsense, of course, all of it. Very creative, but nonsense nonetheless.

Don't misunderstand because there are thousands of doctors in the mental-health profession saving thousands of lives every day.

It is as important as any medical work done, and it's no joke to those exhausted souls desperate for help, trying to survive the intense and horrifying pain that makes a moment feel like a day, and a day feel like a lifetime.

It might be the worst kind of pain, something you already know if you've seen it or lived it.

That is not Carlos Zambrano.

He's not fighting for his life, he has never been interested in anger management, and this isn't the first time the Cubs have tried to get him help.

Zambrano has never thought he needed it and the guess is he doesn't believe it now. He probably still believes that first inning Friday - and all his problems - are someone else's fault.

This is just a way to get paid by a team that doesn't want him, and a chance to create a new public persona so that perhaps another team will find use for him.

No, what Zambrano really needs from his team of doctors is about 8 mph back on his fastball, and if they can't give him that, then instructions on how to throw a changeup 10 mph slower than his slumbering fastball.

Zambrano still has ability, but if he's not hurt and he's just gotten old, it's understandable considering how many innings he already has thrown.

It doesn't mean he can't be effective. He can throw another 10 years with what he's got. He just has to let go of the notion that he must overpower everyone and learn to defeat hitters with his head instead of his brawn.

If the doctors in New York can teach him that, the Cubs ought to put them permanently on staff.

brozner@dailyherald.com

• Listen to Barry Rozner from 9 a.m. to noon Sundays on the Score's "Hit and Run" show at WSCR 670-AM.