Q: Where is Gene Wojciechowski? What have you done with him?

A: I am The Summer Replacement. I was born in Chicago, reared in upstate New York, schooled in Michigan and reside in New York City. By extension of this, I am a bitter and spiteful human being. That's why I'm writing about ... the Cubs.

Sometimes, the eyes deceive. Sometimes, the standings do.

I had the misfortune of attending the Chicago Cubs' second game of the season, against the woeful Montreal Expos. Like the Cubs always do when I bother to show up at Wrigley Field -- ostensibly in search of a good time -- they lost. Miserably. By my crude estimation, they stranded 52 runners on third base. Even worse, their ninth-inning rally was snuffed when Sammy Sosa was caught in a rundown between first and second.

You know why Sammy got caught in that rundown? Because Ugueth Urbina faked to third then threw to first. That play never works! Never! Ask anyone.

Anyhow, it was after this play that I turned to my bleacher companions and remarked: The Cubs stink. They all nodded in agreement, because, it was clear, never a truer word has been spoken under the influence of Old Style. The Cubs stink. As always. And to this day, I still say the Cubs stink, NL Central standings be darned.

Their offense is -- as Madonna surely once said to Warren Beatty -- inadequate. Eric Young doesn't get on base. Ron Coomer, Julio Zuleta and Matt Stairs are the most punchless 1B platoon this side of Todd Zeile and, well, anybody you'd condemn to pair with him. Todd Hundley isn't hitting his weight, or Kerri Strug's. Gary Matthews Jr. doesn't exactly evoke memories of his daddy. Not the fond ones, anyway.

And poor Don Baylor. The game's logistical contraints preclude him from ordering 27 consecutive sacrifice bunts. It is a pity. I would like to marvel at such a thing. Considering this, all praise, then, is due to Sosa, who gets about 2% of the credit he deserves for transforming himself from a hack-o-matic out machine into a smart, patient, truly amazing offensive force. One-dimensional? Phooey. He is the only thing that makes the Cubs' offense tick. That would make him nine-dimensional.

As for the pitching staff, I say this: Occasionally, the sun shines on a dog's rump. Occasionally, a broken clock reads as it should. Occasionally -- very occasionally -- Jay Leno says something funny. But I still have a hard time believing, after so many years of mediocrity, that Kevin Tapani, Jason Bere and Julian Tavarez are just now, collectively, at the same time, unearthing the great secret of getting hitters out. Look out below. Three Cubbies are about to crash.

I'm not trying to mean. I am, in fact, a Cubs fan. A die-hard Cubs fan. A Cubs fan who has survived much pain. More pain that you'll ever know. But this is not the kind of relief I'm seeking. When the Cubs win it all (sniff, sniff), I want it to be by design, not by accident. I want it to be a result of careful planning, shrewd player development, skillful management -- and part of a long-term, sustainable period of excellence. Like the Braves. Or the Yankees. This year's team, however, has all the earmarks of a one-hit wonder. Veterans having career years. Too few meaningful contributions from anyone younger than, say, 30. A gifted lead singer with an insatiable appetite for thrills and pills. Those sorts of things.

Moreover, I'm paralyzed by the possibility that the Cubs' brass will do what it always does when it backs into success: Cash in the future to feed the present. When you've gone 93 years without a title, you'll do anything to win a pennant. The Cubs did it in 1984, trading Joe Carter for Rick Sutcliffe. In 1985, they finished 77-84. They did it in 1989, trading Darrin Jackson and a bag of baseballs for Luis Salazar and Marvell Wynne. In 1990, they finished 77-85. They did it in 1998, trading Jon Garland for Mark Karchner. In 1999, they finished 67-95. I fear such a ploy this year more than most, because the Cubs have a bountiful minor-league system, bursting at the seems with All-Star talents. Bobby Hill: Get to know that name. Corey Patterson (if he ever learns the strike zone): Get to know that name. Hee Seop Choi: Get to know that name. Nate Teut: Get to saying that name. It'll make you laugh.

It is the kind of system that could continually feed the Cubs with prime-time players from here until eternity, ensuring, my optimistic theory goes, a period of wonder that will more than make up for the last century of blunder. It's a thought worth striving and fighting for, anyway. That's why I say: Hands off the picnic basket, Cubbies. Don't you dare. Don't you let the standings deceive.

The Summer Replacement is a senior reporter for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail your suggestions and scorn to scott.burton@espnmag.com.