BAT ... SIT ... CRAZY?
Schwarber reiterates his love of fielding but says he will embrace DH role if that helps Cubs
Bat.
Sit.
Crazy?
Kyle Schwarber might be more dancing bear than Gold Glover in left field, but the man has his pride. Not to mention a linebacker’s competitive streak and a deeply held belief that, given a chance, he can work on any weakness until it fades like a moonshot into the gloaming and finally disappears.
So if Cubs manager David Ross ends up yanking him out of the defensive lineup and making him the team’s main designated hitter this season, how’s he going to handle it?
‘‘It’s just the way it is,’’ Schwarber said after the Cubs’ workout Wednesday at Wrigley Field. ‘‘Trust me, I’m all for whatever he wants me to do. I’m just happy for the open communication that he’s had with me. He’s been able to kind of put into my head already to just know what to expect going into the season here.
‘‘And as long as the name’s penciled in — and even if it’s not — I’m still going to be ready when [my] name’s called upon.’’
But it’s hard to picture Schwarber being content with a one-dimensional role. It still bugs him that the Cubs decided years ago that he wasn’t up to snuff as a big-league catcher. After butchering his way through the 2017 season in left — and hearing about it plenty — Schwarber lost 30 pounds and did so much performance training that he came back ready to make real strides in the field — and did just that. A betterthan-average arm also helps him get by.
He’s no butcher in the outfield anymore. He’s no Gold Glover, either — far from it — but you knew that already.
Newcomer Steve Souza will get his share of at-bats at DH. Backup catcher Victor Caratini, a switch-hitter whose simple, confident approach at the plate has made a real impression on Ross, will get his share, too. Schwarber’s has been the first name to roll off ev-
eryone’s lips, though, when talking about this spot.
And Schwarber wants to be an every-inning player, no doubt about it.
‘‘My job as a player is to prepare to play the field,’’ he said. ‘‘At the end of the day, it’s the manager’s decision to say who plays that day and who’s the DH.
‘‘But, obviously, I’m a guy who loves the challenge. I’m going to go out there and try to prove everything that’s said against me to be [wrong]. I know how people love to view me as a designated hitter, but I’m still going to go out there and play my best defense out there and make really good plays out there.’’
A season with few defensive reps isn’t what the doctor ordered for a player who still is learning to be an outfielder. The possibility that the National League is finished for good with pitchers hitting exists, too. It could be likelier than ever that Schwarber has a date with DH destiny.
‘‘I’m not worried about that,’’ he said. ‘‘If I’m playing the field — you guys know me — I’m going to go 110%. And if I make a mistake, it’s because it’s a 110% mistake and not a passive mistake.’’
The urgency of every game and the heightened tension of every scoring chance in a 60-game season will shove
a lot of selfish concerns into dark corners of clubhouses across baseball. So, too, will the shared goal on every team of limiting exposure to the coronavirus. As Schwarber put it, it’ll feel like a playoff race from Game 1.
But few players enjoy the experience of playing at Wrigley as demonstrably as Schwarber, who interacts with — and dances for — the fans in left field every game. How will he handle it if he’s not out there? Come to think of it, the fans won’t be, either — maybe all season.
‘‘I guess the rooftops?’’ he said. ‘‘I’m going to have to launch some balls up to the rooftops.’’
He’s going to need a bat for
that. A really big one.