|When do they get their dinner, Carlos? And when do they get their apology?|
Sure, Zambrano has apologized to players individually, but what about the team as a whole? What about the Wrigley Field ambassadors? What about the children? Never mind the convenient fact that Zambrano has been separated from the Cubs by an average of 1,000 miles since he was suspended. That doesn't change the fact that he's apologizing in the absolute wrong order.
The first person he needed to apologize to was obvious, but whether he did that or not is between him and DeRosa. After that, he should have apologized to Derrek Lee. Okay, he did that, too, but only once? Another 99 are in order, and they should all be in public and/or under the supervision of a priest. Next comes his teammates, coaches, agents, and every innocent bystander.
Next he should have apologized to the media, starting with the white guys. Sullivan, Morrisey, Telander, Wittenmyer, Kaplan: these guys feared for their lives when Zambrano's rage boiled over. No, he didn't hurt anybody—this time—but he looked like he wanted to. The fact that he made his apology in an interview with Pedro Gomez won't be lost on them. You could cut the racial tension with a knife, which is exactly what the Chicago sports media is afraid of.
But the most overlooked group on Zambrano's apology waiting list, with its chronology screwed up beyond even Quentin Tarantino's comprehension, are the millions of starving children around the world. While they looked on in horror, the biggest, whiniest, most spoiled child of them all went out to dinner with the manager of the opposing team. Zambrano stuffed his petulant face with dinner, completely deaf to the rumbling empty stomachs of those less fortunate than himself.
But himself is all Zambrano thinks about. He's sorry. He was wrong. He is embarrassed by his actions. He is trying to improve the way he handles his anger. Selfish, racist, diva. This apology was all about him. The families of the victims of the Hindenburg disaster? Never even crossed Zambrano's mind.