Piniella's press conferences are becoming must-see

	Sweet Lou Piniella: Can't anybody here play this game? AP
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The postgame press conference is a necessary evil -- like scrubbing the bathroom or rotating your tires -- a less-than-thrilling time when standard obvious questions are exchanged for boilerplate replies and hoary clichés so that your friendly media outlet has at least a little something from the horse's maw. On most days, the exchanges are about as interesting as watching your friendly neighborhood accountant sharpen his pencils.

I fully understand why most athletes, coaches and managers would rather jam their tender bits into a wood-chipper than field another round of queries, especially after a galling defeat. Yet, every so often, something good happens. We get real reaction, an honest display of unvarnished emotion and opinion.

That's why Lou Piniella's press conferences are becoming the most wildly entertaining postgame shows in sports since Bill Parcells held the bully pulpit in Dallas. The Tuna's imperious responses and blunt dismissals of reporters' questions, as well as his brusk walk-offs always made for must-see viewing. Now, Not-So-Sweet Lou has taken up the mantle in Chicago, where his confounding Cubs have left him spouting more furious madness before the massed gadgets of the media.

This isn't entirely unexpected. Lou's been an intense and tempestuous sort since his earliest playing days. During previous managing stints in New York, Cincinnati and Seattle, he achieved a fair degree of notoriety for expressing himself to umpires. What is surprising is that he came out of a comfortable year's retirement, at the age of 63, after three agonizingly disappointing seasons with the sunken, cheapskate Devil Rays to take the helm of the more well-appointed Cubs, who come complete with a uniquely tortured history of frustration. Yes, Lou is a competitive sort who enjoys a stiff challenge, but this is like upgrading your circle of Hell.

The Cubs have the talent to contend in the NL Central, so any failure to do so, mixed with a liberal amount of their traditional hoo doo, will only ratchet up Lou's blood pressure and make it more likely that we'll be treated to a season-long series of soliloquies like the one on May 17 after the Cubs squandered a 5-1 lead over the Mets in the bottom of the ninth and lost for the sixth time in their past eight games. After citing, with great exasperation, the "nice job" done by relievers Mike Wuertz and Will Ohman, Piniella became non-plussed when talking about Ryan Dempster, who had coughed up five earned runs, three hits and two walks in one miserable third of an inning:

"And then you have...our...our...closer!" Piniella sputtered with sheer contempt, later declaring, ''I'll tell you the truth, these guys have to do it. I don't know what else to say."

Like the cavemen in the Geico ads, the sight and sound of Lou venting never fail to make me smile or chuckle. As with Parcells, there seems to be a great degree of vexation at the modern athlete's inability to execute fundamentals, stay healthy or embrace a team concept. Why I find this so amusing, as well as refreshing, probably has more than a little to do with my being located in New York, where Joe Torre's old cow demeanor has begun to serve as a safe and effective sleeping aid.

Bless his heart, Lou's making this baseball season a whole lot more interesting. Chicago is truly blessed to have two loose cannons in its dugouts. That Guillen fellow on the South Side can be an engaging listen, too.