Jim Riggleman is the manager of the Chicago Cubs. He has eight years of big league managing experience. Riggleman is not one to seek media attention. He is one to be honest.

Recently we stood outside the Cubs’ dugout at Wrigley Field and talked about the game the night before. Two of his players had failed to hustle out batted balls. The lack of effort was costly to the Cubs in both instances.

I asked Riggleman, “What did you do? Did you talk to the players?” His answer was honest and blunt. “No,” he said. “I didn’t say anything and I won’t. Nothing I say is going to change their attitude.

“These are two high-profile players. What leverage does a manager have with them?” Riggleman asked. “They know they are going to play. I can’t take them out of the lineup, not with the money they’re making.”

Riggleman: “If I get into a public dispute with them, I lose. This is when a team needs a leader in the clubhouse to say something.”

Riggleman deals with reality. “Look,” he says, “if this was 20 years ago and I was Eddie Stankey, managing for $20,000 or $30,000, I could take a stand and make a point. But I’ve got a job that pays me more than I can make doing anything else. I’ve got family responsibilities. Do I risk that over a dispute with a star who doesn’t want to hustle?”

Riggleman knows who gets canned first in manager-star player disputes. Unless ownership will clearly stand by a manager, a skipper walks a very thin line tangling with one of his high-priced stars.

Riggleman: “People ask me what the biggest adjustment is from managing in the minors and coming to the majors. I’ll tell you what it is. I had to lower my expectations.”

That is a soberingly honest, sad commentary on the game.

Last week I spoke with Tony LaRussa, the St. Louis Cardinals manager, about Riggleman’s comments. LaRussa, without a smile, said, “It tells you something about the state of the game, doesn’t it?”

Both LaRussa and Riggleman have jobs in some jeopardy because their clubs have played poorly. LaRussa has the better-known name, the higher profile. He would take the bigger risk doing his job – disciplining players.

“You have to do what you think is right,” LaRussa says. “You have to maintain your own integrity at some point even if you know you’ll probably lose the battle.”

LaRussa also has the unwavering support of Mark McGwire. Riggleman has Sammy Sosa, but without the close personal bond LaRussa has with Big Mac.

Most managers would never even broach the subject of their authority over players. Riggleman, in his up-front honesty, has in his own way mapped out a course of integrity, like LaRussa. They are two quality men finding their own way on the balance beam known as major league managing.

Riggleman waits to see if he comes back next season. His general manager, Ed Lynch, may lose his job. LaRussa’s contract ends this year.

“I want to come back to St. Louis,” LaRussa says.

“I’m not going to be someplace where they don’t want me,” LaRussa adds. “I told the Cardinals to wait until the season’s over and see how they feel about me.”

In the world of managing at the Big Show, the motto of “Walk softly, but carry a big stick” has been reduced to “Walk softly.”

NEWS columnist Gary Thorne, an Old Town native, is an ESPN and CBS broadcaster.