The St. Louis Cardinals complete their big series against the Cincinnati Reds this afternoon, and no matter how the game goes, or, for that matter, the rest of the season, baseball fans ought to tip their caps to Reds manager Dusty Baker.

He survived the Cubs.

He came to the Cubs in 2003. That was his first year with the team, and long-suffering fans like me regarded him with suspicion. What did he know about the virtue of suffering?

Sure enough, there was precious little suffering that first year. The Cubs won the division. That was a surprise. The Cubs had been 67-95 the year before. But Baker led the Cubs to the division title in 2003. The Cubs beat the Atlanta Braves in the divisional playoffs. Then the Cubs took a commanding 3-games-to-2 lead in the National League Championship Series against the Florida Marlins. The final two games were at Wrigley Field. Win one and it's a World Series.

The Cubs were coasting in that sixth game with a 3-0 lead in the top of the eighth inning. Mark Prior seemed almost unhittable. With one on and one out, the Marlins' Luis Castillo hit a soft fly down the left field line. The Cubs' Moises Alou approached the wall, jumped and reached into the crowd.

Lifelong Cub fan Steve Bartman, sitting in the front row, instinctively reached for the ball. It bounced away.

Alou went crazy. He began shouting at Bartman. My wife said to me, "It's just a foul ball. The Cubs are still winning."

"You don't understand," I said. "The Titanic just hit the iceberg."

To his great credit, Baker understood. The camera caught him in the dugout. He was beside himself. He was enraged. I realized I had misjudged him. He understood.

Baseball fans know what happened next. The Marlins went on to score eight runs that inning, and went on to win the next night as well.

Baker lasted three more seasons with the Cubs, but never got them back into the playoffs.

Now he has resurfaced with Cincinnati.

That says something about the man's inner strength.

Compare him to poor Lou Piniella, the current manager of the Cubs. If you go to the games at Busch Stadium this weekend and sit on the first base side, you will see him sitting in the dugout.

He doesn't leave the dugout anymore.

In fact, I don't think he shaves more than once or twice a week.

He mostly sits there, muttering to himself. Unshaven and seemingly lost in his own thoughts, he looks like a refugee from New Life Evangelistic Center. "Hey, Reverend Rice, you got anybody we can use as a manager today?"

What happened to that bright, energetic fellow the Cubs hired in 2007? That fellow would say things like, "Don't talk to me about curses or history. I'm not interested in that stuff."

Now Piniella sits in the dugout and mutters about black cats and full moons and 1969.

The Cubs won the division in Piniella's first two years, but this year, they're awful. Piniella has announced that he won't be back next year. In other words, "You can't fire me, because I quit."

He has also announced that he won't manage anywhere next year. Or ever. He's done.

I would be surprised if he ever watches a baseball game again. Maybe he'll start following soccer. He could become a fan of Manchester United. He might live for the World Cup.

But he's through with baseball.

The Cubs can do this to people. It takes tremendous fortitude to follow the team. I remember the great Jack Quinlan. He was the radio announcer when I was a kid. He would get so disgusted he'd leave the booth.

"There's a ground ball to short. This should take care of the inning. Andre Rogers throws and ..." There would be a pause. And then, "You take over, Lou. I'm going home." Quinlan's partner, Lou Boudreau, would then pick up the action. "All right, the throw went off the wall and kicked out to right field ..."

Quinlan would also end broadcasts abruptly. "The Giants have the tying run on third, the winning run on second. Let's see if Lindy McDaniel can get the final out. Here comes the pitch ..." There would be another pause.

"Cubs lose. We'll see you tomorrow." But what exactly happened?

It didn't really matter. Why get bogged down in details when all you need to know is that it always ends badly.

Few people can handle that. Baker can. He's a survivor. Cardinals fans better be wary.