Bruce Kimm, gone. Luis Pujols, dust to dust. Hal McRae, that'll teach you.

	Hal McRae already had a glum look when Devil Rays general manager Chuck LaMar named him the team's new manager.

But hey, they knew the jobs were dangerous when they took them. Managing the Cubs? Managing the Tigers? Managing the Devil Rays? Strictly canary-in-a-coal-mine stuff, and every sentient being this side of Andromeda knows it.

Here's a poser, though, something to give you a reason to scratch your head in bafflement: Why will there be no end of men willing to crawl naked over hot gravel for any of these jobs?

We know the obvious answers -- money, first-class travel, a chance to spend time with big-shot athletes while clinging to the illusion that they will listen to you. But we know those are not good reasons to take a job. The only reason to take a job is to see if you can excel at it, and the truth is that nobody can excel at managing the Cubs, or the Tigers, or the Devil Rays, or (as soon as Jerry Royster gets whacked) the Brewers.

The Mets' firing of Bobby Valentine aside, these are teams with a rich history of poor history. These are teams who have been eye-wateringly dreadful for more than a decade, or in the case of the Devil Rays, more than their natural lives. They were bad on Opening Day, on Tax Day, on Memorial Day, on Flag Day, on Bastille Day, on Fan Appreciation Day, on Thanksgiving Day. And will be lousy when it's The Meek Finally Inherit The Earth Day.

I mean, how much more evidence do we need? These are managerial roach motels, pure and simple. No right-thinking human should want these jobs, and conversely, the Cubs, Tigers, Devil Rays (and we assume shortly, the Brewers) should find filling them a near-impossibility.

	From his first game as the Tigers' interim manager, Luis Pujols, left, knew he wouldn't be asked to take off his jacket and stay awhile.

At least in a just world, they would. Instead, we get the self-propelled rumor mill, throwing out names like Dusty Baker (who would never be the subject of any rumors if not for his oddball owner) for every vacancy.

Yeah, right. Come here for a million-three a year, ruin your reputation and end up scratching for whatever bullpen coaching job you can hustle up.

Rather, we'd like to see candidates come out and say publicly what we ask here now -- "What the hell would I take that job for? I'd sooner be a greeter at Wal-Mart.''

McRae has been particularly cursed, in that his previous job was in Kansas City for another devotedly rotten team -- very much like Phil Garner, now that we think of it.

Then again, he didn't turn down the Devil Ray job when it was offered to him -- in the same way that a cat offers its owner a dead mouse. But we can agree it will be a good while before he gets another one. Not because he can't manage (I mean, who would know?), but because there's always some smooth-faced young sucker ... er, baseball man who thinks he can slap a set of Donna Karan earrings on the pig and pass it off as Brad Pitt.

	Bruce Kimm should have listened to that little voice in his head that kept screaming, "NO!" but he took the Cubs' job anyway.

It probably won't be Kimm or Pujols, either, because interim managers rarely get that second call. Interim managers get lousy teams, don't win with them, and get marked as bad managers.

It is the way of things.

But just once, maybe, a job won't get filled, and some general manager has to try to win with the glop he has served up to his manager. Or better, some owner has to dress up in the clown suit and pit his judgment out there in the open.

We can dream, can't we?

But that's all it is -- dreaming. There's always some new sap eager to wear a ballcap and a suit while being introduced to the local media (re: the people who will carve him several new ones for doing no better than any of his five predecessors). There's always someone who thinks he can pull the bus out of the hat.

Maybe this time, it'll be Mike Martz.

Ray Ratto is a columnist with the San Francisco Chronicle and a regular contributor to ESPN.com