Many people are already blaming one play that didn’t even take place on the field. With the Marlins batting in the top of the eighth inning of game six, Luis Castillo hit a ball that looked to be heading foul. As the ball neared the left-field stands, it started slicing gently back toward the field. Cubs left fielder Moises Alou tracked the ball’s flight, moved over to Wrigley’s famous red-brick wall and timed his leap perfectly, only to watch as the ball was deflected by a Cubs fan who was also tracking what he thought would be an awesome souvenir from the game that would send the Cubbies to the World Series. From that point on, the Cubs imploded. Prior walked Castillo. Cubs shortstop Alex Gonzalez booted a double-play ball that would have gotten the Cubs out of the inning with a 3-1 lead. By the time the inning was over, the Marlins were up 8-3.

The fan who reached for the ball was eventually escorted out of Wrigley Field under police protection. As I watched the game on TV, I hoped that the media would be sane enough not to print the guy’s name–he’d gotten death threats before the eighth inning was even over.

I shouldn’t have been so naive. On Wednesday, the Chicago Sun-Times ran a story that not only gave the fan’s name and but disclosed his workplace. That cheap and completely unnecessary scoop could turn one man’s life into a living hell. To what end? Does knowing his name add anything to the story? Does knowing where he works? You tell me. Here are a couple of selections from the Sun-Times story, with the identifying info taken out:

“In a chant that could be heard on the national telecast of the game, fans all over Wrigley Field joined in cursing the fan … The fan works for an international consulting firm in Lincolnshire … A neighbor, Ron Cohen, said he has known the fan’s family for 20 years. He and others said the fan was a graduate of the University of Notre Dame who played for and is now a coach for the Renegades, an elite youth baseball program in Niles.”

By late Wednesday, the fan had released a public statement made necessary by the fact that his name had been printed. And at last night’s game, predictably thuggish sports louts were focusing their energy on vilifying the fan–his picture was on a piece of posterboard with AMERICA’S MOST WANTED written above it. (The Sun-Times reporters weren’t the only ones who didn’t rise to the occasion; Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich and Cubs manager Dusty Baker refused to take the high road and absolve the fan of responsibility for the Cubs loss. “If he commits a crime, he won’t get a pardon from this governor,” Blagojevich said Wednesday.)

By printing his name, the Sun-Times helped further the notion that somehow this one person had ruined the Cubs season. But it was the Cubs who ruined their season. It was the Cubs who choked in the clutch, the Cubs pitchers who kept tossing meatballs, the Cubs fielders who couldn’t execute on routine grounders, the Cubs batters who couldn’t hit their way back into the game.

No matter. One lifelong Cub fan will be remembered for blowing the Cubs October dreams. There’s precedence. Think back to the 1986 World Series. Anyone will tell you that Bill Buckner let a routine grounder go through his legs, costing the Red Sox the game and the Series.

But that’s not what happened. If Buckner had fielded the grounder cleanly, it would have simply sent the game into the 11th inning–three Mets singles and a Bob Stanley wild pitch had already tied the game at 5 after the Sox opened up a 5-3 lead in the top of the 10th. And that game only evened the series at 3 games apiece–the Sox still had to go out and lose the deciding Game 7 the following night.

A journalist’s job is to educate and inform the public. Sometimes, however, there’s a compelling reason for leaving some information out–that’s why most mainstream media outlets don’t identify victims of alleged sex crimes. The name of the Cubs fan shouldn’t have been printed in a mainstream newspaper. It puts him at risk, and it furthers the notion that reporters will do anything for the tiniest amount of buzz, regardless of the possible consequences.