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Cubs fans cling to the past as though it's going to bolt at the first opportunity. Shouldn't it be the other way around-

I'd like to offer some advice:

Let go.

The energy that people continue to expend on Ryne Sandberg would be better used questioning how ownership is going to turn around a fifth-place team. You're furious that Sandberg isn't the Cubs' manager when you should be furious that Alfonso Soriano is the Cubs' left fielder.

The team made the right move in choosing Mike Quade over Sandberg. We don't know all the reasons why one is in and the other is out. But if the Rickettses made a conscious decision to go in the direction commonly referred to as ''forward,'' then they made a good decision.

While the owners are busy looking ahead, they should introduce a JumboTron to Wrigley Field. That probably upsets the nostalgia junkies, who prefer 1950, bathroom troughs and butter churns.

In the Cubs' case, the past is built almost entirely on disappointment. If this were an archeological dig, every layer of earth would reveal something grisly. Here's the spot where Alex Gonzalez let a routine ground ball go through his legs. Down here is Leon Durham's first baseman's glove. And here's Don Young's dropped fly ball.

Whatever the allure is for fans, it's pathological. You're not happy unless you're miserable, is that it-

Change is good

Sandberg was a great player, a Hall of Fame player, but he was also a member of two heartbreak teams. Cubs fans hold on to these things like martyrs' relics. It's all they have; I understand that. What I haven't been able to grasp is why being a 1980s fan favorite should translate into a managerial job.

Last week, Sandberg walked away from the opportunity to manage the Cubs' Class AAA team in Iowa for a second season, setting off another round of teeth-gnashing and breast-beating by the faithful. But it was absolutely the right move for Sandberg if he's intent on being a big-league manager someday. To be taken seriously, he needs to remove himself from the gooey sentimentality of Cubs World. Baseball people need to see him in a different light. Right now, he's institutionally associated with Wrigley sellouts, disappointments, day games, Harry Caray, beer, Ronnie Woo Woo, beer, the Lovable Losers and -- what's that other thing- -- beer.

In case you haven't noticed, the past isn't so great around here. That's why the Cubs and their retired second baseman needed to go in different directions.

Change is good, which brings us to Wrigley. The Cubs are asking fans whether they would be open to the idea of a JumboTron in or just outside Wrigley. The reaction on message boards has been mixed. But we've all become so used to watching replays in our living rooms that the absence of them in the ballpark is noticeable.

A video board wouldn't take away from the charm of the center-field scoreboard, which is by far Wrigley's best feature; it would enhance it. At the risk of being stoned to death by traditionalists, the illuminated Toyota sign beyond the left-field bleachers doesn't bother me a bit.

Wrigley a blessing and a curse

Wrigley is both a blessing and a curse for the Cubs -- a blessing for its beauty and a curse for how it retains failure the way some homes retain heat. It's a dual-purpose shrine/mausoleum.

You can't get rid of all the vestiges of the Cubs' past, nor would you want to. There's a lot to celebrate. But it's OK to keep the past at arm's length. In that sense, ''Year One,'' the Cubs' marketing campaign last season, was brilliant, even if the first year of new ownership looked a lot like the previous 101 years of team history.

The slow dance with the past was the doing of former Cubs marketing star John McDonough, which means he was doing his job. You, the fan, bought it. You couldn't get enough whenever McDonough trotted out someone from the '69 Cubs, that star-crossed team. Now you've hopped on McDonough's nostalgia tour with the Blackhawks, though with one huge difference: The Hawks just won a championship.

That's the idea, isn't it- The whole winning thing- It's very easy to forget the concept on the North Side. Sentimentality pushed the Sandberg for Manager campaign. Good ol' Ryno, everybody said. He deserves his shot. Remember that Cardinals game in 1984- The two dramatic homers-

The blues lyric is something like, ''If I didn't have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all.'' It's not a reason to embrace bad luck. And just because the Cubs have a miserable history doesn't mean their fans should embrace it.

Who knows, Sandberg might have been a success as manager of the Cubs. But naming him manager would have been a tip of the cap to that long, painful tradition of losing.

Time to move on, folks. Can anybody out there play left field-