How's your luxury tax account doing this week?
That poorly, huh? Me, too.
Just thought I'd ask.
It's going to be so sad if this strike actually occurs. Oh, I'm not thinking of myself and other baseball fans here.
I'm thinking of the players and their wives.
I can hear the breakfast table conversations already:
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| If some kind of compromise was reached, it would save Alex Rodriguez millions.(AP) |
Joe Cool Superstar: "Honey, you realize those every-other-week checks for $526,753 stop arriving now that we're on strike. We're going to have to think about cutting back."
Mrs. Joe Cool Superstar: "I have cut back, you knuckleball-throwing moron! I bought the BMW instead of the Ferrari last week! What more can I do?"
J.C. Superstar: "Well, for one thing, you can step into a store other than Gucci once in awhile."
Mrs. J.C. Superstar: "Me? What about you?! You're the one that brought half of the damn Sharper Image store home last month. And now you're telling me I've gotta stand in line with the commoners down at Nordstrom and Target?"
J. C. Superstar: "Honey, it might come to that."
Mrs. J.C. Superstar: "Oh... (inaudible)."
Fortunately, I'm here this week in a Jimmy Carter sort of role, ready to mediate. All it will take is mild cooperation, and I'll keep our favorite baseball players on America's finest and most expensive golf courses for 36 holes a day, and I'll be keep their wives and girlfriends dressed in leather pants and diamonds, looking just like Heather Locklear and Halle Berry, through the next century.
Call it the Two Wrongs Don't Make a Right Plan:
Why the players are wrong
Point No. 1 in the Don Fehr Brainwashing Manual for Turning Players into Sheep (suggested union motto: "Baaaa!") is simply this:
"The players who came before you sacrificed and went on strike to make things better for you, so now it's your turn to make things better for the players who will come after you."
This is, quite simply, a crock. It's also an oft-repeated crock, because every single player eventually will use this line when asked about the issues.
The reason it's a crock is simple: The average player's salary is north of $2 million these days. The money supply is not endless. OK, so maybe clubs aren't losing money as quickly as commissioner Bud Selig would have us believe, but there are some obvious problems with competitive balance and with the finances of certain clubs.
So after years of beating the owners senseless at the negotiating table until we've reached the critical juncture we're at today, perhaps the very best way for today's players to actually make things better for players of the future would be to compromise on a long-term deal with the owners that would actually strengthen the game.
What a novel concept, huh?
The players could agree to some form of luxury tax without giving up any significant, hard-earned rights. They could still make millions, keep themselves in diamond earrings and Hummers for life, and guarantee a healthy future for those who follow them.
Instead, they're willing to risk Armageddon, which very well could turn off so many fans that baseball's ratings will sink lower than they are for reruns of I Dream of Jeannie.
And that won't be helping the players of the future, will it?
Why the owners are wrong
Of all the ridiculous things that have come out of Selig's mouth since last November (insert your own punch line here, I've used my entire supply and need to make a run down to the Improv to get some more), the one thing he keeps saying that is dead-on accurate is this:
Today's economic imbalance in the game stems from 30 years of negligence by previous commissioners and owners, and he's the poor sap who's inherited the infection, and now it's time to open up, say "aaahh" and suck down some medicine.
True.
But here's where Selig and the hard-line owners applying the most pressure (San Diego's John Moores, Texas' Tom Hicks, Houston's Drayton McLane, Minnesota's Carl Pohlad, Kansas City's David Glass and the Chicago White Sox's Jerry Reinsdorf) need to get a grip:
You don't fix 30 years of mismanagement in one bargaining session.
It's ridiculous even to try.
Yes, the system needs change so fans in San Diego aren't thinking football by June and so a team like Minnesota can keep its players when they become arbitration-eligible (the Twins will be facing that dilemma this winter). And in response, the players union has agreed to authorize unprecedented levels of revenue sharing between the clubs.
OK, then.
So we're left with the luxury tax issue.
The sensible solution
In a perfect world, with a little less ego and a lot less testosterone, we compromise. The owners want to tax payrolls above $102 million, the players are offering $130 million? Fine, $116 million it is, and now we just have to agree on the percentage of tax to be levied.
The players say, "You know, now that we're to the point where most of us have $1 million in loose change lying around under the sofa cushions while we watch DVDs all night, maybe the best way to ensure that the players who follow us also strike it rich is to cut a deal that make sure baseball stays strong, well-balanced and competitive."
They do that, and other sports stop blowing by baseball in popularity like a Porsche past an Escort on the freeway.
The owners say, "You know, now that we've got the players to agree on significant revenue sharing and some payroll tax that will help spread the wealth to lower-income teams, maybe we back off just a bit and cut a deal. And if it works as well as we think it will, perhaps we can even raise the luxury tax threshold next time because, by then, the players will see how strong the game is and the money there is to be made."
They do that, the players will stop looking at them as if they have some sort of contagious body rash.
Then, the only thing growing will be the game itself.
But what do I know? I shop at Target.
