The Daily Egyptian is published by the students of SIU at Carbondale. Except during vacations and exam weeks, The Daily Egyptian is published Monday through Friday during the fall and spring semesters and TWThF during the summer semester."

Cubs could learn from Salukis

Kids they are not. They look like kids - albeit large ones - head coach Jerry Kill calls them kids, they are poor like kids, but one would never know from talking to the 2004 SIU football Salukis.

SIU, its coaches and its players have put all professional franchises, and many college programs, to shame by the way they carry themselves on and off the field. I have never seen a group of professionals like the 2004 Salukis, despite the fact they are amateurs.

They credit teammates, stay humble and many thank God, something most sportswriters hate, but a show of humility I admire. There are no petty squabbles, no egos and no reason to be seen as anything other than a united, complete team.

I say this not to boost the Salukis, who need no help after destroying Western Illinois, but to try and make sense of one of the saddest moments of my life. This week, in a painful moment only matched by the death of Harry Caray, my grandpa, many gerbils and a couple of birds, Steve Stone left the Chicago Cubs.

He was one of the wisest men in baseball, one of my heroes and the man who taught me most of what I know about baseball. As the debacle in Chicago regarding broadcaster Steve Stone and the Cubs' whiny players has come to fruition, one cannot help but wonder how things would have gone differently if the Cubs had carried themselves like the Salukis.

For those who don't know, Stone is now gone, resigning mainly because of continued altercations with players upset with "criticism," if one can call it that. This whole thing started getting out of hand in the middle of the season, with relief pitcher Kent Mercker screaming at Stone for praising the skill of Houston pitcher Roy Oswalt.

It later continued with an elevator argument, a call to remove the announcers from team charters and other scraps. The insanity escalated because manager Dusty Baker did nothing.

Baker, perhaps, would benefit from a short vacation to Southern Illinois to show him the way things ought to be done, to see how a competent and professional team works. He could ask coach Kill to reenact the same type of scenario and tell him how he would have handled it. This exercise, should it happen, would sound a little like this:

With the defense on the field, Arkee Whitlock (I'm picking on him because he would never, ever do this) puts on some headphones and listens to the broadcast on 95.1 FM.

Northern Iowa quarterback Tom Petrie is dismantling the Salukis, and broadcaster Mike Reis talks about Petrie's terrific vision, cannon arm and ability to make plays.

Infuriated, Whitlock grabs a cellphone, calls up the press box and lambastes Reis for being a good broadcaster. An argument ensues, and Kill gets word of what's going on. Arkee explains the situation, and Kill does the only logical thing. "Shut up Arkee," Kill says.

Whitlock is later suspended two games for taking his mind off the game, hurting the team's image and general stupidity. Nothing ever happens again. The reason? Kill knows a few things Baker does not.

He knows to only recruit the dedicated and those with character, which is why this situation is so unlikely. He knows how to instruct his team in talking to the media and being generally friendly to those who control a player's public image.

Even when confronted with questions he clearly does not want to hear, Kill handles the situation with class.

After Saturday's blowout win over Western Illinois, I asked Kill about Terry Jackson and his recent struggles. Kill is extremely worried about running back controversies and does not like being asked about their performance.

But he approached the question with class and a joking tone, knowing that a question about a running back who averaged -0.3 yards a carry is a legit one.

"I don't know what else we got to do to get off the running backs situation. I mean damn, gimme a break," Kill said, laughing.

He continued to poke fun at the question, keeping me humble like I was one of his players.

"I'll get Terry motivated. I'll get him going so you can ask me a question about [another running back] next week," he said, patting me on the stomach. "I'm just teasing you. You need that every once in a while."

Stunning, especially when I think back to a similar situation with Dusty Baker in the summer of 2003. I was covering the Cubs-White Sox series while interning in Springfield, and at the post-game press conference, he took strong exception to a question about Sammy Sosa.

I asked him about the Cubs' many mistakes that day. This was the time of the Sosa corked bat incident and I made the mistake of mentioning Sosa's gaff in the field first. Before I finished the question, Baker snapped back.

"That wasn't a mistake," he said. "He lost it in the sun."

A misunderstanding maybe, although losing the ball in the sun is hardly a terrific play. But looking at me, he saw the enemy and someone who was trying to destroy his player. Kill, to his credit, never saw that or has seen that when I've written something he was not thrilled with.

Kill sees misunderstanding, not confrontation, and that's the single best lesson he could teach the Cubs' organization. Unfortunately, Baker is not going to come down here, and neither will anyone from the Chicago National League Ball Club.

The team will continue to be plagued by selfishness, insanity and discord. It will continue to act the way the Salukis do not - like a bunch of kids.