A tearful goodbye for Lou Piniella

Touted as the last piece of the puzzle for the Chicago Cubs, the manager calls it a day looking worn down and worn out.

Lou Piniella, the Chicago Cubs manager, acknowledges the crowd before the start of Sunday's game.

Lou Piniella is one of those guys you hate to see go. Sadder still is the way he went out. An ailing mother back home in Florida tugged at his heartstrings, changing the date of his previously announced retirement from the end of the season to Sunday. But that was only one reason Piniella looked so worn out.

Last week a television station ran footage from the day he arrived in Chicago four years ago, then cut to a shot of Piniella in the dugout that day. It was like one of those jolting, before-and-after comparisons often shown when a president leaves office ? paler, greyer, with more furrows in the forehead and bags under the eyes. And Piniella, 66, had served the equivalent of only one "term". But the Cubs have worn down plenty of managers.

"It's a good day to remember," he said after they got clobbered 16-5 by the Atlanta Braves in his last game, continuing their nosedive, "and also it's a good day to forget." It was not the losing that got to Piniella in the end, so much as the how. Do not forget, the Cubs won 316 games and lost 293 during his stay in Chicago, including consecutive division titles in 2007/08, and he came over soon after a stint managing in Tampa, when the Rays were still a running joke.

But he was touted as the last piece of the puzzle for the Cubs, an old hand used to winning with enough vinegar left to nudge a veteran squad to its first World Series championship since 1906. He tried being mellow and wound up almost coming to blows with a few of those veterans. He tried exploding, but the only guy Piniella seemed capable of rousing was himself. One of the last things he said before leaving Wrigley Field made clear that Piniella felt like he was leaving a job unfinished.

"I cried a little bit after the game. You get emotional. I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be," he said. Piniella was struggling to hold back tears, and soon enough he lost that fight, too. "This will be the last time I put on my uniform," he said. If so, there is already enough material from the four teams Piniella played for and the five he managed for more than one highlight reel. Most people could assemble a top 10 of his equipment-breaking, base-throwing, umpire-baiting tantrums from memory. Those who saw him play could make up another using only clutch hits from his post-season performances with the Yankees.

But while those reels reflect how motivated and competitive Piniella was as both player and manager, what rarely came through was how much joy he squeezed out of just hanging around the game. Piniella could seem angry, but was more often funny, perhaps because he had few regrets. At the end of a 23-year career as a manager, he could say he made the most of his modest gifts. The late George Steinbrenner loved Piniella's fire and his clutch hitting, but it was probably a self-deprecating humour that kept him employed in New York for so long ? as coach, field manager, general manager, field manager (again) special adviser and broadcaster ? after his playing days were done.

On the eve of his 1990 World Series victory in Cincinnati, reporters were poking through Piniella's background looking for a different angle. One asked: "Is it true you spoke Spanish growing up?" "Until I was six years old," Piniella said. "The nuns in elementary school taught me to speak English." Hoping to shift the conversation to Piniella's deft handling of the perpetually grumpy Reds owner Marge Schott, another cut in, "Is that where you learned the word 'yardstick'? Like the one you get your knuckles rapped with?"

"That," Piniella answered without missing a beat, "is where I first learned the word 'second-guess'." Over the past four years, neither the charm nor the temper made a big enough dent in the culture of a franchise whose unofficial motto is "Wait 'til next year!" Piniella was, by turns, exasperated, outraged and dispirited. By the time this season headed inexorably down the drain, he seemed to be going through the motions, increasingly burdened by the feeling that he was not in the one place he could still make a difference, back home.

"I've enjoyed it here," Piniella said. "In four wonderful years I've made a lot of friends and had some success here. This year has been a little bit of a struggle. But, look, family is important; it comes first." What he said a few moments later, though, was less convincing. "It's a tough job. But, look; I mean, they're going to win here." * Associated Press