Carlos Zambrano, bludgeoning his career into submission

Carlos Zambrano is the supposed pitching ace of the Chicago Cubs, though after signing a monster multi-year contract for millions, he has shown himself to be inconsistent, over-rated, and nuts. Yesterday the flamboyant hurler gave up five home runs, seemingly attempted to bisect the Braves’ Chipper Jones with a fast ball, and got ejected from the game. Then the ethics fun started:

Ethics Fun #1: Carlos cleaned out his locker, told a Cubs trainer that he was retiring, and left the premises before the game was over. A Major League ethics whiff. Zambrano is part of a team, one that pays him an obscene amount of money for the privilege of his prickly company and dubious services. He is contractually obligated to be at all games whether he is pitching or not, and he is ethically obligated to support his team mates, who support him. Walking out without a farewell, an apology, or any contact at all marks the pitcher as disloyal, disrespectful, self-centered and irresponsible, not that any Cubs fans would be surprised at that.

In the third production of the professional theater company that I serve as artistic director, our resident designer/tech director, who was also directing that show (a disaster, but don’t get me started..), threw a textbook hissy fit over some imagined slight and walked out on the production ten minutes before curtain on opening night. He left without saying anything to his business partners and supposed friends, including me. He never said a word to his devoted cast, who trusted on him. He just left. That was essentially the end of his theatrical career in the area, and when I was contacted by another theater considering hiring him (he was brilliantly talented) I made sure they knew what they were dealing with. This is the nadir of professional conduct, the bottom of the bottom, just slightly above the sludge of outright sabotage. And this is where Zambrano’s  cowardly exit places him. (Well, maybe. Keep reading….more ethics fun ahead!)

Ethics Fun #2: Jim Hendry, the Cubs general manager, speaking for the team, responded to the Big Z’s act with this statement: “We will respect his wishes and honor them and move forward.”

I hope he sticks to this. It won’t be easy, and is probably impossible. Zanbrano is not officially retired until he files the appropriate papers; right now he is just AWOL. He can come back, and his union will insist that he suffers no more than a fine, perhaps a suspension, and some embarrassment, if he is capable of embarrassment, which is questionable. The Cubs will be legally prevented from doing what they want to do, which is to say, “Fine: resignation accepted. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Hendry’s example, however, should be appreciated and heeded by leaders, managers and executives everywhere who do not have the Players Association to contend with. The resignation bluff is standard nonsense in organizations across America; it happens every day, many times. Some frustrated or angry employee who believes he or she is indispensable quits or delivers a sorrowful resignation letter in the midst of some dispute, expecting pleas to reconsider accompanied by an apology, capitulation on the point that sparked the disagreement and maybe a raise. Incredibly, they often get them. They should never get them. It doesn’t matter how talented they are or what they have meant to the organization; it doesn’t matter if they are the sole support of a house full of invalids and rescued cats; it doesn’t matter if they are universally loved or that they were absolutely right about the current dispute. A staff member, employee or team member who walks out in anger or as a negotiation tactic is engaging in attempted coercion, and is behaving irresponsibly and unprofessionally. I always try to make sure such individuals get a printed and signed acceptance of their resignation before they are out the door, and I have seen the most hilarious expressions of shock on the bluffers’ faces when they see what I am handing them. And that I mean it.

If you say you have quit when you are not really intending to quit, then you are lying to me, and I don’t work with liars. If everyone knew that fake resignations would always be treated as real resignations, and that the attempt at a fake resignation would be regarded as grounds for termination, that is one unethical tactic that would go the way of buggy whips and dodos.

Ethics Fun #3 The Cubs, however, are stuck with Zambrano if he comes back, and the betting is that he will. His still valid contract guarantees him $4.7 million for the rest of this season, and $18 million more next year, and the only way he won’t get it is if he retires from baseball. Zambrano is an odd one, however, to say the least. People who have been making millions for years, like Carlos, don’t always have the same desperate respect for money that the rest of us do: think of George Soros giving millions to Move-On, which makes as much sense as making a million dollars into little paper airplanes and sailing them into Lake Huron. It is possible, just possible, that Carlos Zambrano has decided that he stinks, is no longer able to give the Cubs good value for its money, and is an anchor on the fortunes of the longest suffering punching bags of fortune in professional sports history.

And then? Why he’s an Ethics Hero, and all is forgiven! The Cubs, players and management alike, will happily forgo that tearful farewell and hardy handshake if Carlos walked out leaving  $22.7 million behind. That’s sacrifice! That’s courage! That’s integrity!

That’s unlikely.

Still, this is why this the Ethics Fun House: the same conduct is either despicable or noble, and at this moment, there is no way to tell which.

_____________________________

Update (8/15/11): Carlos said “Never mind,” and the Cubs suspended him, without pay, for 30 days. Predictably, the Players Union has filed a grievance on Big Z’s behalf.  What fun.