(670 The Score) Cubs president of baseball operations Jed Hoyer told you he was going to do this, so don't act too surprised.
Back on July 8, Hoyer made it more than clear what his trade deadline intentions were. After the 11-game losing streak that woke us all up from any more postseason dreams, he admitted that it was time to dismantle his roster.
"When you're in this moment and your playoff odds get into single digits at this time of year, you have to keep one eye on the future and think about what moves you could potentially make that could help build the next year, the next great Cubs team," Hoyer said. "Life comes at you fast."
Now go back and look at each and every name then discussed as part of the list of what would be available in trade: Kris Bryant, Javier Baez, Craig Kimbrel, Anthony Rizzo, Andrew Chafin, Ryan Tepera and others. We knew a massive sale was likely, collecting something rather than nothing for a slew of rental fees in a historically active market.
It's jarring when it all actually unfolds, of course, hearing from the human beings involved and reckoning with so many obsoleted jerseys in the drawers of disappointed kids, steeling them for seeing their outsized heroes in hats of different colors. The simmering unease of the probability is nothing like the thud of finality when the calls are actually made.
But so it is, and now all that matters is the extent to which the Ricketts family wants to recommit to spending like a major-market franchise or merely conserving their considerable treasure, trading the business of baseball for those of commercial real estate, hospitality and entertainment.
The point is that the Cubs could re-sign all of the free-agents-to-be who just exited, if they want. Just because they chose to slow-walk any negotiations on extensions it doesn't mean they can't now be big players in the market -- after all, the very idea of expensive renovations to the ballpark and neighborhood was pitched as critical for creating revenue streams that would ideally keep the payroll level competitive. Same goes for their proprietary cable network that would fill what president of business operations Crane Kenney once called "a wheelbarrow full of money" intended for the front office's use.
On that, we will see.
Chairman Tom Ricketts has said that he believes a winning team is ultimately better for the bottom line, a public stance that may be true and honest but one that's undercut by what his father said about his son's initial pitch to him to bankroll the purchase. Joe Ricketts famously described how Tom convinced him by saying, "They sell every ticket, every game, win or lose." His response was, "Now you're talking about a business. Now you've got my interest."
The guiding philosophy from here is most likely a cynical balance, one that can present the impression of going for it without the high costs or financial risks, counting on Hoyer's smarts making enough out of what he has to find just enough wins around the margins without getting close to the luxury tax or spending like the real high rollers in Los Angeles and New York. Ricketts might want to win more than he loses, but only at a more reasonable price than he paid for the one title. The dumping of ace Yu Darvish last December was timed conveniently with what they termed a "biblical" pandemic-related revenue drop, but there had been grumbling about the size of his contract and that of outfielder Jayson Heyward long before we knew what COVID-19 was.
If this assessment is wrong, we'll find out soon enough by the Cubs' interest in shopping for big names when the chances arise. I'll be over here waiting for that, watching a stripped-down big league roster toil at Wrigley Field until some of these new prospect acquisitions work their way up alongside those recently drafted.
This was coming, but it hurts.
And it does so as much because of what this time wasn't as what it was, the singular glory surrounded by such grand expectation and crushing disappointment, a brilliant and fleeting flash more than any proverbial window opened to let light keep pouring in.
It hurts because of what it's going to be too -- the pursuit of something that isn't really connected to you anymore.
The World Series title was a shared thing, deeply and broadly. It resonated as a meaningful connection across generations, as redemptive a team sports moment as can exist for a city, defying any crass idea of valuation. It came from what we thought was a real belief in a team as public trust, and it may indeed have been at the time.
Some of the pain today is in knowing that's gone.
Dan Bernstein is the co-host of the Bernstein & Rahimi Show on middays from 9 a.m. until noon on 670 The Score. You can follow him on Twitter@Dan_Bernstein.