I thought I'd caught the Tribune's Paul Sullivan committing illogic in his account Tuesday of Kerry Wood's 20K performance against Houston ten years ago to the day. Instead, I uncovered a paradox.

No pitcher has ever struck out more batters in a game than Wood struck out that rainy afternoon in Wrigley Field. Sullivan wrote: "If not for Kevin Orie's failure to glove a Ricky Gutierrez grounder leading off the third, which was ruled a hit, Wood might have had a no-hitter to boot." Yes, I thought when I read that, but he probably wouldn't have had 20 strikeouts. Houston had just 27 outs coming to it, and if Gutierrez had grounded out Wood would have had one less opportunity to fan a batter.

Fortunately, the Tribune spread on Wood's immortal game included a play-by-play. Studying it showed me how wrong I was. Wood entered the third inning with five strikeouts under his belt. Here's what happened in the third: "Gutierrez singled off Orie's glove. Ausmus struck out. Reynolds sacrificed Gutierrez to second. Gutierrez to third on Wood balk. Biggio grounded out."

If Gutierrez had been retired before Brad Ausmus struck out, Shane Reynolds, the Astros pitcher, would have come to bat with the bases empty. He almost certainly wouldn't have been bunting. In 1998 Reynolds was a .159 hitter who had 82 at-bats and struck out 39 times. He'd bat against Wood one other time in this game, in the sixth inning, and Wood would fan him. Chances seem pretty good to me that if he'd been swinging away in the third Wood would have fanned him that time too. If the rest of the game had played out the same way, with Wood picking up 14 more strikeouts, he'd have finished the game with 21.

And a no-hitter.  

With the Cubs and the White Sox going south the last few days, both Lou Piniella and Ozzie Guillen lost it. Yet Sweet Lou's tirades seemed real, while Ozzie's seemed a bit of a masquerade, even though his language was harsher. Piniella barely made it through a minute of a post-game media conference after last Thursday's blown save by Kerry Wood, triggered by a key misplay by left fielder Alfonso Soriano, and that was after bashing a Gatorade cooler. (No doubt he wished he'd had a water cooler on hand to get real satisfaction.) When some scribe wondered afterward if he'd thought about replacing Soriano with a better defender, say Reed Johnson, in the ninth inning, Lou blasted back, "You're damn right I thought about it. You think I'm stupid or something?" Then he stormed out muttering profanities, perhaps having learned something from the recent Lee Elia anniversary.

Guillen, by contrast, held no profanities back after the Sox' fourth straight loss before the game on Sunday, but word is he was actually quite subdued and not angry while making the comments, and the old scapegoat -- the idea that the Cubs get preferential media treatment while the Sox are "the bitch of Chicago" -- made it seem he was just throwing up a smoke screen for his players, especially as he was talking about the situation in Chicago while on the road in Toronto, where there would soon be a much better whipping boy available in a badly blown call by umpire Dale Scott (something that no doubt would have cost Guillen money in fines if he had blamed the loss on it). As it was, neither outburst worked to inspire the teams. The Cubs lost their ensuing series in Saint Louis and Monday's series opener in Cincinnati, while the Sox were swept in Toronto with losses Sunday and Monday night. Time perhaps to start shouting at the players.

So why are Wrigley Field ushers so tough on fans who move seats?  

The only rules I could find on the Cubs Web site related to fans and seating are from the "Guest Conduct" section of the "Ballpark A to Z Guide," also called the "Wrigley Field Fan Guide -- 2008": 

"Customer Service is a major objective of the Chicago Cubs. The team strives to provide its Guests with the most positive baseball experience in the Major Leagues in a safe, comfortable environment. To help us achieve our goal of outstanding customer service, we ask for fan cooperation in the following areas:

• Dress appropriately for baseball. It is quite often cooler near the lake.
• Respect other guests' ability to enjoy the game. Loud or obnoxious fans could be asked to leave the ballpark if their behavior is deemed to be offensive to guests around them.
• Please do not bring balloons, beach balls, nets or laser pointers into Wrigley Field. These items are not permitted at any time.
• For the safety of all fans, do not interfere with the progress of the game or go onto the playing field. Any fan interfering with a ball in play or going onto the field will be removed from the park and could be subject to arrest.
• Please sit in your assigned seat and be prepared to show your ticket to an usher or ballpark supervisor upon request.
• There is no re-entry on a ticket stub."

Like everyone else in town, I want to write about Kosuke Fukudome being on the cover of Sports Illustrated, but not to address the curse -- just another in a series -- but simply to point out that you read it here first. After all, blogging is all about tooting your own horn, or at least it can seem to be to anyone who reads a post not written by him or herself.

The Reader's own Irma Nunez made a lovely post last week on the very loose translation of "It's gonna happen," the Cubs' motto of recent years, into Japanese characters, adopted by Cub Bleacher Bums and then put on SI's cover. (I was happy to translate "It's gonna happen" for nonfan Irma as a message of optimism -- "After 100 years it's finally going to happen" -- although fans with any experience tend to put an ironic spin on it, as in, "Oh boy, SI put us on the cover, we're gonna get screwed again.")

Then I published a piece about how Fukudome seemed to be having a lead-by-example effect on his teammates in the form of more disciplined, fundamentally sound play, both in the field and especially at bat. When the Cubs returned home briefly this week, not only was Fukudome second in the majors in pitches taken per at-bat at 4.54, behind only the Philadelphia Phillies' Jayson Werth at 4.7, but the Cubs were second in the majors at 3.91. For a team of traditional free-swingers (even on a list of hitters with 500 homers on Sunday in the New York Times, Ernie Banks stood out with his comparatively measly .330 on-base percentage), that's amazing progress. Look at Aramis Ramirez, with 15 walks already the first month, with a previous career high of 50 in a six-month season, and how that has him off to an uncharacteristic fast start. (A .259 career hitter in March and April, he was batting .281 this season, with a robust six homers and 19 runs batted in.) Ramirez had 15 walks, Fukudome had a team high 19, and with plentiful runners on base the Cubs were second in the National League in runs scored.

SI cover jinx or not, that truly has a Cubs fan thinking, "Guuzen da zo!" Oh, there's always a new way for us to fool ourselves, isn't there? How unexpected indeed.

I'm really enjoying SI's new Vault, for stuff like this:

REX GROSSMAN

OVERVIEW
One play on the tapes stood out: Deep in Miami [Hurricanes] territory last season, Grossman set up to throw a crossing route, locked onto his wideout and, though four defenders had the receiver blanketed, forced the throw. The interception was returned 97 yards for a touchdown, and the momentum turned against Florida. Esiason said, "He looked nervous." Coryell added, "He's got to learn that the second-best play in the passing game is an incompletion. You never, never gamble like that." Walsh was concerned as well, saying, "I'd be wary of what I was getting. He makes some disastrous decisions."

Moving down to better seats at a major league ball game is practically an initiation rite for fans. I go to several Cubs and Sox games a year, and I not only see it happen all the time but occasionally I do it too. The ushers at Wrigley Field, however, seem preoccupied with stopping it.

Consider this: at a recent game I was sitting five rows back, just past the Cubs dugout toward left field. The guy in front of me stood to take pictures of Kosuke Fukudome each time he came to bat. He was with three men in business casual. They looked Japanese.

"Are you Japanese?" I asked. "No, I'm from Chicago," he replied in perfect English. "But my friends are." Hi, I'm an idiot, nice to meet you.

He knew a lot about Fukudome's baseball days in Japan and he wanted to give his friends the best possible view of the game. There were a few empty seats in the front row and he'd already spoken to an usher about moving down to them. The usher, who didn't happen to be the main usher guarding that aisle, told him that in order to do that they'd need season tickets to those seats. Even game tickets to the seats wouldn't be good enough. They'd need the kind of ducats you get in a pack when you buy a season's package. 

So the already empty seats were out of the question. More than once the fan walked down to the front row of our section looking for season ticket holders who'd be willing to give him their tickets if they left the game early. Lo and behold, in the 7th inning, with the Cubs well ahead, a middle-aged couple sitting on the aisle in the first row got up, walked right to him, and openly handed him their season tickets.

He nudged one of his friends and, tickets in hand, the two of them moved into the two seats. The main usher, standing just to their right, motioned for their tickets, which they showed. The usher nodded his head and resumed his position on the aisle, and all seemed right in the world. Meanwhile, the two seats to my right were suddenly occupied by 20something dudes with backwards caps and Miller Lites. They wore big smiles. Their secret was safe with me.

Not a half inning later, the usher who'd told the Fukudome fan about the seat-moving policy came down the aisle toward them. Now that the fan and his friend had actually done what the usher had told them was the only way to do it, he felt squeamish. He said they needed to return to their old seats while he checked with his supervisor. "Just gimme a minute and I'll let you know."

He was gone half an inning. He came back and said. "I'm really sorry, but I can't let you sit down there."

"I thought you said if I had the season tickets I could sit there," the guy protested.

"I know, I know I told you that before, but we just can't let you move. I'm really sorry."

So what's the deal? 

The day after right fielder Kosuke Fukudome made his Major League debut against the Brewers at Wrigley Field, he blogged about it on his Japanese Web site. "I don't quite feel like a real Major Leaguer yet," he wrote, "but my first at bat was greeted by such amazing cheers and the Chicago fans, said to be especially tough, gave me such a warm welcome that I felt like I was truly a member of the team. I was so relieved!

"I couldn't help but laugh a little," he adds, "at the signs that read 'How unexpected!' (^_^;)"

Photos of Cubs fans carrying the signs he's referring to (see above) are all over Japanese blogs and news sites. Transliterated, the signs read "Guuzen da zo!"--the kind of thing you'd say if you bumped into someone you were just thinking about calling. "Guuzen" also means "chance," "sudden(ly)," and "accident(al)," and that's why it's such an endearingly curious way to welcome a talented new player; search "accidental" (and scroll down a little) on this popular message board for an ASCII art rendition of the joke.

From what I've seen, there's no disrespect meant to resourceful Cubs fans eager to reach out to Fukudome. As this blogger pointed out, online translators are likely to blame. Google Translate offers "Guuzen da zo!" as the translation of "It’s gonna happen" (look closely and you'll see the Cubs mantra on the back of the sign in the photo). And sometimes it shoots back the much less catchy and even more puzzling "Shinrai kachitoru okoru." I asked my old editor in Tokyo to help explain the translation. "'Shinrai o kachitoru' means 'gain someone's trust,'" he said, "but to stick 'okoru'* on the end is weird."

*to happen 

Who could have blamed him for taking out the candy basket?

Actually, I'm referring to what Lou Piniella called "the bubble gum thing," the dugout receptacle that holds the chewing gum and sunflower seeds so essential to the Norman Rockwell game that is Major League Baseball. Carlos Zambrano, frustrated by a so-so pitching performance that ended in a 5-3 loss to the Phillies last Friday, had thrown one of his fits and, again to quote Uncle Lou, "flipped [the basket] over a little bit." 

Lou lamented that these days "there are no more water coolers. Now you have to tussle with the Gatorade."

Sullivan elicited from Piniella that, after being forced to cough up $200 to $300 for each smashed water cooler back in the day, he'd taken them home and kept them for a while in his garage--after all, he'd paid for them.

"'I wish I had kept them,' he said. 'I'd be selling them on eBay.'"

Ozzie Guillen better start reading his Bible. He's in danger of losing his title as Chicago baseball's King of Quotes.

Tiger Woods has long been outspoken about his focus on Major tournaments. His ultimate goal in golf, he has said, is to eclipse Jack Nicklaus's record of 18 Major victories.

But his runner-up finish to Trevor Immelman at the Masters last Sunday, leaving him stuck at 13 Major victories (already second-best all-time), was a step toward another Nicklaus record, one that might be even more difficult to break.

Nicklaus finished second in 19 Majors. That's a remarkable 37 top-two finishes. Veteran golfer Jay Haas, a pro since 1976, has zero top-two finishes in Majors.

From 1962, Nicklaus's first year as a professional, through 1983, Nicklaus finished first or second in a Major in every year but one--1969, when his best finish was sixth. He also famously finished second to Arnold Palmer at the U.S. Open in 1960 while still an amateur. And Nicklaus went on of course to win the 1986 Masters, at age 46, making him the second oldest Majors champion ever.

The 32-year-old Woods has finished second in Majors five times. At that age Nicklaus had 8 second-place finishes (and 11 wins) in Majors. From 1997, Tiger's second year as a pro (but the first year he entered Major tournaments as a pro), through the 2008 Masters, Woods already has three years without a top-two finish (1998, 2003, 2004).

Other comparisons: Nicklaus ended his career with nine third-place finishes in Majors; Tiger currently has two. Only Woods had more PGA Tour wins in his 20s than Nicklaus--Tiger 46, Nicklaus 30. Both Nicklaus and Woods have multiple U.S. Amateur titles and an NCAA championship.

I've had Ozzie Plan season tickets the last couple of years, and in 2007 for my $300 I saw the White Sox win all of two games, one in May, the other in September. Flipping through my ticket stubs brings it all back to me:  L 11-1, L 10-3, L 3-0, L 11-1, L13-3,  etc, etc. At the start of the second half of the season I bet Reader sportswriter Ted Cox that the Sox would finish behind the lowly Royals, and during a miserable August in which they went 9-20 it was looking like a sure thing. But a late September run of four wins--they had no streak longer than this all season--deprived me of a bottle of Blanton's. I wish I'd bet they'd lose 90.

Fortunately for those of us with PTSD from last year, the Sox are already into a five-game winning streak, and signs of life have included not just a sweep over the Tigers (0 and 7 after Tuesday's 5-0 blanking by the BoSox, who got their World Series rings) but a five-RBI game by A.J. Pierzynski, who capped it off with a game-winning three-run homer. That still didn't prepare this A.J.-jersey-wearing fan for the flashback to 2005 at Monday's home opener against the Twins.

The first couple innings looked like the bad old days, with Javy Vazquez laboring to give up three runs on seven hits through four and the Sox stranding eight base runners in that same span. Ozzie got himself thrown out in the third, arguing balls and strikes for no good reason that I could see. By the sixth, when reliever Matt Guerrier took over for Twins starter Nick Blackburn, the Sox were down 3-2 and Ted Cox and I were dissing the Sox pitcher in song ("Javier Vazquez / You're slow as molasses . . ."). But in the bottom of the seventh, Guerrier walked Jim Thome, and Paul Konerko followed with a single to center. This brought in Twins reliever Pat Neshek, who can't feel very happy about it. Dye, with another single to center, batted in Thome, and after Pierzynski struck out swinging, new outfielder Carlos Quentin, playing in left, followed with yet another hard-hit single.

Konerko, a runner so slow the Sox should raise money for charity by offering fans the chance to challenge him in a footrace, was at third, and with two outs, Ted was feeling tetchy: "Why aren't they pinch running for Paulie?" he griped. "They should pull him, move [Nick] Swisher to first, and play Blondie [i.e., Brian Anderson] in center."

"They're just trying to make a hero out of Joe with his grand slam," I joked. Then it happened: Crede connected on a shattered-bat drive over the left field fence. The kids to my left went nuts, waving their complimentary Sox car flags and screaming with glee. A guy in front of them was so overcome with joy and generosity that when the inning was over he ran to buy them ice cream.

I haven't jumped up and down so much in, oh, three years, and the moment really did recall that charmed season. The Sox won 7-4, but I'd point to bright spots more modest than a game-winning grand slam, beginning with Vazquez, who finally got it together and retired the next 11 batters ("I no worry about him," Ozzie said). Every single player got a hit, and--stop the presses--Juan Uribe took a walk. And there were two crucially timed 6-4-3 double plays, including the last two outs that gave Bobby Jenks (now sporting the team's wackiest chin beard) his fourth save. The Sox are in first place, with the Royals in a surprise second--they beat the Yankees Tuesday--and I'm thinking I won't be making bets like last year's anytime soon.