They call it baseball, but its name is profit

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SOCIALIST ACTION | SEPTEMBER 1985 7 There is a new national pastime sweeping the land. It's called making money the old-fashioned way. Remember when businesses could gouge their employees, untrammelled by such nuisances as collective bargaining, a minimum wage, and the right to strike?

Now, thanks to that lover of nostalgia in the White House, employers everywhere are getting a little heady over the prospects for a return to the "good old days" of a union-free America.

Things have gone so far that even professional baseball is not immune to the antilabor offensive. That's why it's good to see that baseball players proved during their brief strike this August that they know how to play hardball off the field as well as on.

For ballplayers the "good old days" meant working under a system that even Business Week described as "reminiscent of peonage." Until the mid-'70s players had little alternative but to play with the same club unless traded or released by the owner. This translated into rather modest salaries in a career that lasts four or five years on an average.

In 1973 players won the right to submit salary disputes to an independent arbitrator. Then, in 1975, a court ruling threw out the "reserve clause" that tied a player to one team as long as the owner wished. Forcing owners to compete for the top players translated into upwardly-mobile salaries, from an average of $44,000 in 1975 to more than The recent strike was another episode in the ongoing test of strength between the owners and the players. The owners claimed they can't keep up with the high salaries. The players countered that creative bookkeeping has hidden the actual profits made by most teams. The players also point out that since 1976 attendance has climbed almost 50 percent, and revenues have more than tripled.

For the most part the players came out on top. They defeated an attempt to put a ceiling on salaries and won an increase in the minimum wage. The union did concede that a player will have to play three years, instead of the current two, before being eligible for arbitration during a salary dispute. Both sides also compromised on the share of TV revenues going into the players' pension fund.

Poor old George

Some people have trouble sympathizing with professionals who earn $363,000 a year to chase a ball around a field. One of those people is George Steinbrenner, owner of the New York Yankees.

Posturing as a friend of the fans, Steinbrenner said he could understand the frustration of the fans who see players making $363,000 a year and want to know how much more they want? A better question might be to ask Steinbrenner, who is also the chief executive officer of the American Shipbuilding Co., how much he earns and how much more he wants?

But an even better question for Steinbrenner: Why doesn't he try to recruit scabs next time the players go on strike? After all, there are only about 650 members in the union. Certainly he and the other owners would have no trouble filling the ballparks with scabs eager for their shot at glory.

Let's hope they give it a try next time around. It could only remind everyone why the players earn what they do, and offer some comic relief at the same time.

Let's face facts. They call it baseball but the name of the game is profit. If the owners had their way, younger players would probably find themselves enrolled in one of those Summer-Jobsfor-Youth programs, earning minimum wage.

Perhaps we'll even see the advent of a new concept in professional baseball -the no-frills team. The beer vendor could double as a relief pitcher. The star hitter might find himself belting out not only home runs but the National Anthem before the game. Fans would have to throw back foul balls hit into the stands since the pitcher had to pay for them. Everyone on the team would be a manager. Fans, too, would be management consultants.

Since 1976, 16 of the 26 clubs have been sold-10 since 1980—often for record-breaking prices. The high turnover in club ownership reveals more than the obvious fact that a few people are making a tidy sum from baseball.

It reflects a trend away from the baseball mogul of old, whose principal business was the ball club, to a new kind of corporate owner, who sees a baseball team as a convenient tax write-off or a useful vehicle for promoting other products such as TV programming or beer.

As with everything else, even our leisure time is ruled by the sign of the dollar. Why should baseball, which really belongs to the public, be owned by TV stations and breweries and financial moguls who don't hesitate to pack up and move if they think they can turn a healthier profit elsewhere?

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