Grinning and spinning

For one game, all was right with Zambrano and the Cubs -- but are he and Barrett really 'brothers' again? Don't count on it

MILWAUKEE -- In the gooey glee club that is Cubdom, where memories always are short term, now we're supposed to believe all is well with the mysterious right arm and cluttered psyche of Carlos Zambrano. Yep, quicker than you can hum ''Kumbaya,'' he and Michael Barrett are ''brothers'' again, only days after Big Z beat up his teammate with such force that they're turning the incident into a video game: ''Grand Theft Auto: Cubs Clubhouse.''

And gosh darn, Ron Santo, you know Zambrano has reclaimed his old pitching form with a dominant performance Wednesday against the division-leading Brewers, forgetting that his ERA was 5.52 entering the game. Just like that, the most erratic and bubble-headed personality in Chicago baseball -- non-managerial division, of course -- has found peace, love and his proper arm slot.

''I don't know if he told you,'' Zambrano said of Barrett, ''but the next day, he apologized to me and I apologized to him. We were both crying. When you have a little brother, you fight with him and the next day you get along with him. He called me 'brother' and I called him 'brother,' and we moved on.''

As for his maddening inconsistency, Zambrano said it has nothing to do with rumored shoulder pain and stress over his contractual limbo. He claims his arm hasn't been slotted correctly during his delivery, which is exactly what pitching Web sites have analyzed lately. The Cubs pay lots of money to their general manager, manager and pitching coach. They couldn't have come up with this specific solution sooner, if it indeed is the issue? ''It's not like you guys say, that I'm hurt and injured. No, it's just my arm slot,'' Zambrano told the media. ''Any time I come with my arm slot good, I have a good game.''

Sorry, but I'm calling b.s. on both counts.

Just as Rosie O'Donnell and Elisabeth Hasselbeck didn't really make up, the Rampage Jackson and Chuck Wepner of Wrigleyville are staging an act only because management demands it. An enraged human being doesn't beat the snot out of someone -- six stitches, one black eye, facial cuts, permanent dignity loss -- and then feel enough love for a brother 18 hours later to weep in his arms. Same goes for Barrett, who couldn't possibly have looked in the mirror and felt affection for Zambrano. The only thing worse than manufactured spin control is manufactured spin control that has zero believability. Deep down, late at night, I'm still figuring Barrett sticks pins in his Zambrano voodoo doll while Wham Bam Thank You Zam pounds his chest and shouts, ''I wiped the floor with his crewcutted [bleep]!''

This was not another baseball fight, as Lou Piniella and Jim Hendry have tried to say. This was a bloody, lip-splitting mauling. Barrett went to the hospital, remember, and I'm having a hard time thinking two men with such built-up acrimony possibly could work together next Monday at Wrigley Field. But that's what Zambrano insisted after making only one mistake -- a two-run homer to future MVP Prince Fielder -- in a commanding, 6 2/3-inning gem in which he allowed only five hits and struck out nine batters. Seeing how he had his velocity back after allowing a career-high 13 hits and fanning no one in his last start, just before the brawl with his batterymate, the Cubs would be wiser to stick with Koyie Hill and not mess with Zambrano's brittle mind. But Carlos wants to hold hands and sing, which seems to be another wild mood swing.

''We forget and forgive each other,'' Zambrano said. ''He will catch me the next time against the Houston Astros. I don't have a problem with that.''

Hopefully, Piniella will see right through the forced reunion. Because all that does is bring more attention to the combatants and heighten the possibility that Zambrano won't pitch well, which only increases the risk of another blowup and who knows what else.

The concern, of course, is that Zambrano is teasing everyone with a terrific outing. Timely as it was, it also could lead to false security. Though he denies it, there's no doubt his contract situation is bothering him. How could it not distract someone of his emotional level when a $72 million offer is yanked from the table on Opening Day? And what does that say about his mental toughness?

With every solid performance, Zambrano only will rally the Cubbie masses into a frenzy that he must be re-signed. Considerable caution is advised. Given the club's recent history with high-profile pitchers, couldn't you see Zambrano signing an extension and promptly blowing out his arm? I continue to think shopping him at the trade deadline makes sense, knowing the Cubs could obtain a quality package instead of letting him flee in free agency. I don't trust his arm. I don't trust his head. But as long as the Brewers ebb and flow, the Cubs still could be ''contending'' in a riff-raff division come mid-July. And if they are in contention, real or imagined, the fans would burn down Wrigley if a big-time pitcher was dealt -- even if it made sense for the future.

Zambrano said all the right things after the 6-2 win. The night before, he told himself, ''Tomorrow is the season opening for you. Forget about anything else. Just start from tomorrow.'' But isn't that a dicey proposition for anyone thinking of paying him up to $100 million -- that he starts the season two months late? He pitched like an ace this time, but what about next time? And if he can't handle the pressure of being an ace, the next Cubs owners shouldn't open their wallets for him.

When he was pulled in the seventh, we waited for a Big Z explosion. As fill-in manager Alan Trammell went to the mound, Zambrano turned his back, suggesting a reliever wasn't a good idea, then took his time before relinquishing the ball. He walked off, looked to the sky, accepted congratulations from his mates, then sat by himself. Minutes later, he was on the top step, seeing if a shaky bullpen could protect his lead. When Carlos Marmol did, Zambrano flashed a huge grin.

If only he could keep it. Alas, Monday is another day and another mood in the life of an unpredictable man-child.