In the last of a series of negative posturing articles about the game, after which I will limit my free editorials to more lighthearted topics without reference to the sad state modern baseball is in, I will flush out my redundant word bite furies to address the impending strike, its ominous implications and ultimate impact.
Out of 30 teams in MLB, maybe half a dozen at best are financially stable and worth following. So this time, it's the owners who are in the right. And not the players. If it were the other way around, teams that boast overpaid primadonnas and losing records would not exist and neither would revenue sharing.
It's safe to say that the loudest voices in the player's union are those of the superstars, who in the end only care about making the big bucks. This is no Norma Rae deal. This is no minimum wage proletariat automaton fighting for an extra few dollars per hour to go to McDonalds on the weekend. And it's no multi-millionaire fighting for a future generation of baseball kids. That's a joke.
It's a green issue. Save the red, white and blue for post 9/11 7th inning stretches. Baseball is a TEAM SPORT tarnished and made irrelevent by hero worship of the individual. Astronomical salaries reflect that. Lack of parity reflects that. And megastars who fail in the post season come playoff crunch time reflect that.
If you're only out for number one and you fail in the fall when the team concept means the most, then your ego and stats don't matter. You will go down in history holding Yogi Berra's jockstrap even if you eclipse Hammerin' Hank's 755. Make no mistake. This is no social statement about our father's game where Curt Flood made a fuss to avoid a trade to a 2nd rate ballclub with a bad rep.
Any comparisons are out of context. Curt was about dignity and not money.
But today we have Joe Comic Book Video Game, Mr. Triple Ploy Baseball saying I wanna have the right to take my steriods, make more dinero than some 3rd World countries, treat team loyalty like the sweat in my cup protector until I can ride the coattails of a winner...and then made a franchise out of my autographs like Joe DiMaggio when my juice-jacking days are done.
In one fell swoop of elitist, holier-than-thou, foot-in-mouth disease, none other than Barry Bonds---who else?--- spilled the beans on all we needed to know about what's wrong with today's game. And I quote...
"It's not my fault you don't play baseball. It's not our fault you're not an actor or Bill Gates or anybody else. Nobody is complaining about their salaries, or the owners' salaries. So don't complain about ours. We have the right to make it."
I've lost all respect for Mr. Bonds. Or what little I once had. If a man like this is baseball's greatest player, then we're in trouble. The strike is just the tip of the iceberg. All of MLB in and of itself is a monopoly. And if it's the best baseball entertainment option we have, then all of us are better off attending college games or camping out by the Playstation.
Before Barry was just a jerk like some of sport's greatest athletes who have to be that way to perform at a higher level, insulate themselves from mediocrity and transcend the 9 to 5 realities of daily life. However, you better not subtlely hint that Joe fan is out of line in his reasoning and it's not your fault that's he's not somebody. Otherwise soon you may not find him buying tickets and paying your salary...so you can chase The Hammer.
Barry, the garbage men who sweep the streets of our cities give more of a contribution to society than you. If the trash isn't picked up daily, then disease can spread. If you don't hit a home run and edge closer to Hammerin' Hank, only geeks and freaks who have no life will lose sleep over it. For real people, your athletic exploits are disposable. And the highlights on ESPN are like electronic pop culture toilet paper.
I wipe my behind with your place in history. Because you are not a team player and you can't win. Your club still wouldn't win if you cloned yourself 8 times and could pitch like Dwight Gooden. Even after your 73 HR season, no one wanted you. Watch out. Because after the next strike, no one may want BASEBALL.
There are humble Roy Hobbes in this world who would play for far less and put out a better product. That I bet my life on. What if all of a sudden America's cities decided that they wanted to take back their NATIONAL PASTIME? To only support local clubs with hometown boys who make less than the President and not the latest phenom from south of the border whose proud country deserves a team and not an economic kickback.
What if they decided they didn't wanna pay taxes to build your job site? God forbid, what if World War III came to being and the twilight of your stat column fell prey to history like Ted William's? Do we have to jump in a time machine to reflect on the humanity and humility of what baseball once was as opposed to what money, big business, greed and egotism gone mad has made it?
Josh Gibson died young and broke. Shoeless Joe cheated so he could make one ten thousandth of a tax shelter some stars now give away to charity. And now you're giving fans the middle finger to watch you walk, get thrown at and choke in the post season? Gimme a break!
Barry, you're no Tiger Woods. He is to golf what Base Ruth was to baseball. Only stars in individual sports earn and deserve everything they get. Unless you miraculously develop a charismatic team leadership personality, you only deserve 1/9 of SF's payroll if your team doesn't win.
If you want respect, quit the sweet science and see how you make it on your own in golf or tennis without 8 other guys to back you up. Then argue about what you're worth. As it stands, modern baseball is worth a NATIONAL BOYCOTT. And you represent the problem and not the solution. I have more fun playing the game myself at the local park or on a computer than watching you hit the same regulation ball that ESPN's Dan Patrick hit out in batting practice.
In closing, let me say this. This great land of ours has more golf courses than ballparks. It's time that ratio was reversed to reflect the national pastime so that the game of baseball can survive the farce that it is today.
MLB may be the only game in town. But it is the Bill Gates bug-filled, crashing Windows operating system of pro sports. Indeed, after the next strike, the best thing that can happen next to some revolutionary rule changes is the establishment of a brand new baseball league filled with real people and not ATM machine, Andro robots.
And if we can't ressurrect ghosts of the past, I'll go and tryout myself. I can bring it, bro. 97 mph. worth in my prime. Although I'm over the hill and 10 lbs. heavier, I'd be willing to sacrifice my right arm to join a league of our own. For as long as it is ruled by big money and bad business, it might as well be Enron.
» Although not a member of SABR or any other academic baseball entity, Hank Festa is a student of critical realism. In life as well as sports.
Also by Hank Festa
» MLB Pride: Waxing Poetic
» June Swoon: When Human Loss Makes MLB A Kid's Game Again
» Cramer's DiMaggio Hatchet Job: A Bio Worth Burning
» Looking for Growth ... In All The Right Places
» Get Your Red Sox Here: Weep All About It!
» The Strike Zone Or Your Life: The Bean Ball Debate Exposed
» Seasons In The Sun : Baseball In The 70s
» A Closet GM's Philosophy Of Winning: Stats & Role vs. Heart & Soul
» Gibby's '88 Series Limp Shot: Baseball's Last "Earned Home Run"
» Flamethrower's Epiphany: Confessions Of A Live Arm
» In The Event Of A Strike...: The Time Off Must Be Used to Fix the Game
» More submissions
Copyright © 2002 by Hank Festa. Posted July 3, 2002.
BALLPLAYERS | TEAMS | CHRONOLOGY | TODAY | BOOKS | NEWSLETTER | ERRATA | FAQ
