The Streak, as it came to be known, was the salvation of baseball.
After the controversial strike and its aftermath, fans were turned off by
the business of the game and were reluctant to return. But in Ripken's
Streak, fans found something worthy of their adoration and attention: a
working-man's record in a game full of millionaires.
It was like no other record. All it required was for Ripken to show
up and play every day. But in this age of selfish, pampered athletes, the
idea that a player would never ask for a day off, and would always be in
the lineup when you paid your money to see a game, struck a chord amidst
all the bad feelings. It took some attention away from the bitter taste in
the mouths of baseball
fans everywhere.
In a way, Cal Ripken was a 1990s version of Babe Ruth -- not
talent-wise, but symbolically. On the heels of the 1919 Black Sox Scandal,
when the game was at a similar low point with the public, Ruth came along
and saved baseball with his exploits. While Ripken has put up Hall of Fame
numbers, no one would say he is Babe Ruth on the field. But his march
toward Lou Gehrig's record served the same purpose as Ruth's exploits.
Another factor that made The Streak far bigger than a baseball
record is that it also became an issue during the baseball strike. In
fact, Orioles owner Peter Angelos's refusal to use replacement players was
based, at least publicly, in large part on not jeopardizing the Ripken
Streak. This led to city and state legislation barring the use of
replacement players at Camden Yards. The whole state of Maryland had
mobilized behind the Ripken Streak.
The widespread support and reverence for what Ripken was about to
accomplish had gone so far that at least one player, Houston Astros
pitcher Todd Jones, went on record as saying that some of the members of
the Major League Players Association had privately agreed that it would be
all right for Ripken to
cross the picket line if it meant preserving The Streak. This was
a remarkable admission, and one that Ripken didn't want
any part of. He steadfastly refused to even consider being an approved
"scab."
Angelos had other reasons to buck his fellow owners -- for example, he
was closely tied with labor unions in Baltimore -- but he stood to pay a big
price if the owners went ahead with their replacement-player plan. He
could be fined $250,000 for each game that was played in which he didn't
field a team. If it had come to that, Angelos might have sued baseball in
what would have been a bloody legal mess.
American League president Gene Budig was faced not only with the
prospect of tangling with Angelos, but also an ultimate no-win situation:
deciding what the status of Ripken's streak would be if there was
replacement baseball without the Orioles participation. Fortunately for
Budig, he didn't have to make that decision. Federal judge Sonia Sotomayor
ended the strike on March 31 when she granted an injunction sought by the
National Labor Relations Board against major league owners
on an unfair labor practice charge resulting from the bitter
labor dispute.
The injunction led to the players calling an end to their strike,
the owners reluctantly agreed to take the players back under the terms of
the old labor agreement, and replacement baseball ended before it ever
began. That decision came hours before Budig would have had to announce
his decision on Ripken. Though Budig has never said point-blank how he
would have come down, there is little doubt that he would have ruled to
somehow preserve The Streak. "On numerous occasions I assured everyone
that the league would make every effort to protect The Streak," Budig
said. "It was important that Cal Ripken be given the opportunity to keep
his record going. I always thought it was in the best interests of major
league baseball. He clearly deserved the right to challenge the record."
Angelos was convinced that Budig would have sided in Ripken's favor.
"I don't think they had any intention to obstruct The Streak or prevent
him from accomplishing his goal," Angelos said. "I believe the league
would have declared those games forfeits, subject to the court action we
surely would have taken against that, but therefore Cal would not have
missed those games, and The Streak could have been preserved."
All of this only served to make Ripken uncomfortable. "I think it's
commendable that he [Angelos] acted on his beliefs, and even though The
Streak became part of that, I would still like to believe that my
particular situation wasn't the motivating reason why he took the stand
that he took."
It even got to the point where the 1995 schedule, without
accommodations for whenever the strike would be settled, had the
record-breaking event taking place on August 18 in Oakland. Everyone in
baseball agreed that the historic game that breaks Lou Gehrig's record
should take place at Camden Yards-not only Ripken's home ballpark, but now
baseball's crown jewel, a stage equal to the drama that would unfold.
Everyone, that is, except Sandy Alderson, Oakland's general manager.
During the winter, Alderson said there was no way the A's would trade the
home date with the Orioles. "I'm going to watch that game from our box in
Oakland," Alderson said. "We may have a seat for Angelos somewhere in the
ballpark."
Angelos was already hated by much of the baseball establishment for
his refusal to go along with their replacement-player scenario, but
Alderson had more personal reasons to make life difficult for Angelos.
Several months earlier, the Orioles owner had tried to talk to Oakland
manager Tony LaRussa about taking the Baltimore job-even before Angelos
had officially fired Johnny Oates. LaRussa had a window in which he could
consider other offers, but Alderson was still angry that Angelos made a
run at LaRussa-an unsuccessful run, with Angelos eventually hiring Phil
Regan for the job-and wasn't about to make a deal with Angelos easily.
Eventually, the powers that be in baseball would have prevailed on
Alderson to make the change for the good of the game. It turned out to be
a moot point, however, when the 1995 season didn't begin until the strike
was settled. With the new 144-game shortened schedule, the record-breaking
game would be played on September 6 at Camden Yards.
But there was little room for acts of God that could play havoc with
a baseball schedule at anytime-such as rainouts. The next day, September
7, was an off day, so that provided some cushion. But after that the
Orioles were scheduled to go to Cleveland for a three-game series, and
Indians general manager John Hart indicated that they were not able to
trade a three-game series at Jacobs Field in September when the Indians
were marching toward their first post-season appearance since the 1954
World Series.
From Home of the Game: The Story of Camden Yards Copyright © 1999 by Thom Loverro. Used by permission.