I have to admit I’m suffering from Ozzie Guillen fatigue. I’ve known Ozzie since 1986 when I became the White Sox beat reporter for the Chicago Tribune. We’ve had a great relationship through the years.

However, it ended badly for Guillen in Chicago. The soap opera drama went over the top.

So perhaps that’s why I’m not all that excited about the new Showtime series, The Franchise, which debuts Wednesday at 10 p.m. ET.

Didn’t we just see this show in 2010, when MLB Network did The Club, a behind-the-scenes look at the White Sox?

The Showtime series will have many of the same elements, only without the bleeps for Guillen’s colorful language. As you can see from the trailer, it’ll be more of “Ozzie being Ozzie.”

Also, there’s a new book out on Ozzie, written by Chicago Sun-Times columnist Rick Morrissey.

Listen, the act wore thin in Chicago. As a White Sox fan, I couldn’t be more pleased with the sense of calm new manager Robin Ventura has brought to the team. And the results couldn’t be better with the Sox sitting in first place at the break.

Meanwhile, Ozzie’s Marlins are 41-44, 9 games back. Yes, we are taking note here.

Having said all that, it’s always interesting to see an inside look at a team. Grantland’s Michael Kruse wrote a piece examining the production of the series.

He writes:

This is documentary work. Fly on the wall. Immersion reporting. Two dozen people work full-time on The Franchise. It’s admirable in scope and intent. There’s a sincerity of purpose and craft that frankly — I’m sorry — I wasn’t expecting.

They’ve got great stuff.

They have players wired during batting practice. They have players wired during games. They have Zambrano wired during a game in which he pitched. That’s a first. It’s never been done. They have players watching scouting videos before at-bats. They have third baseman Hanley Ramirez feeding Yoplait to his little daughter son. They have aerial shots taken from high-priced helicopters. They have cameras set up all over the ballpark for attractive time-lapse material. They have what they call “the natural sound of victory.” They have … the opposite. There’s a place in some of the notes of the producers and editors that I picked up in Secaucus in which the following sequence of words appears: “Eccentric team pres … body waxed for double marathon.” The access, at times, is astonishing.

It’s the most compelling kind of nonfiction. Let whatever’s going to happen … happen. Watch and wait. The aim in the end, according to executive producer David Check, is “to be true to the ebb and flow of the season. We document the season as it unfolds.” There’s no picking the plot. Reality comes as is. The reality here is that the Marlins aren’t very good. And it’s not because there’s an extra set of cameras and that’s a distraction. The Marlins aren’t very good because the Marlins aren’t very good. Those thousands of hours have started to look like an all-access archive of reasons.