Bud Blows His Own Horn
On November 6, 2001, Commissioner Selig announced that Major
League Baseball's economics were so bad that it had no choice
but to contract by two teams. A month later, he told Congress
that some clubs "have no chance of achieving long-term
competitive and financial stability ... even under some of the
most aggressive revenue sharing models which are being
contemplated. Revenue sharing alone will not enable certain clubs
to be viable over the long term."
That was then. This spring Gloom and Doom Bud suddenly vanished,
replaced by The Happy Commissioner. It was like someone was
spiking Selig's water with lithium. Greater revenue sharing,
once deemed inadequate to help small-market clubs compete, was
now solving all of baseball's problems. On July 13, Selig
told the Chicago Sun-Times that "[h]istorians will
look back on last August 30, when we reached the [new collective
bargaining] agreement, and say, 'Boy, they really changed the
game.'" All of a sudden "we've made more
progress than anybody could have dreamed."
In fact, MLB was never as sick as Selig claimed in 2001. But
Selig, who never tires of reminding interviewers that he was a
history major in college, has his eye on his own place in
history. Having announced his intention to retire when his
current term expires on December 31, 2006, Selig wants to be
remembered as the Leader Who Saved Baseball, not the man who
presided over the 1994-95 labor debacle and who tried to kill the
Twins and Expos.
Let's look at the record. Selig certainly deserves credit
for presiding over the first labor agreement in recent years to
be negotiated without a work stoppage. But his claims for the new
revenue sharing formula are wildly overstated, and the luxury
tax, the other key component of the new CBA, is likely to have no
effect at all.
Under the new CBA, clubs share 34% of their local revenues.
That's significantly more than the 20% under the previous
CBA, but much less than the 50% the owners originally proposed.
If, as Selig said in 2001, some clubs would not be viable even
under such "aggressive revenue sharing models," the
revenue sharing contained in the new CBA couldn't solve their
problems.
Neither could the luxury tax. Figures released after the
All-Star break confirm what everyone had long suspected: the New
York Yankees are the only team over the tax threshold, and since
they're $63 million over, it's hard to argue that the
luxury tax hast affected their spending. Indeed, it now appears
likely that the Yankees are the only club that will ever
pay the luxury tax.
As for teams which have benefited from greater revenue sharing,
the Cinderella team of 2003 is the Kansas City Royals, who play
in one of MLB's smallest markets and receive millions from
the other clubs. Yet Royals owner David Glass seems almost
disappointed that his club's unexpected success has prevented
him from auctioning his best player, All-Star center fielder
Carlos Beltran, to the highest bidder before Beltran becomes
eligible for free agency. That's the attitude revenue sharing
was intended to eliminate.
Unfortunately, one ugly remnant of 2001's Gloom and Doom Bud
remains. The Montreal Expos escaped contraction, but are still
owned by MLB, and still don't have a permanent home. The
Relocation Committee charged with finding them a home is
negotiating with groups from Washington, D.C., northern Virginia
and Portland, Oregon -- "negotiating" much as a bank
robber "negotiates" with a teller. After the winning
market agrees to contribute more than $300 million of public
money toward a new stadium, the winning bidder will be asked to
pay MLB up to $300 million for the Expos.
Selig's other major innovation for 2003 was to award home
field advantage in the World Series to the league which won the
All-Star Game. The Mariners, Yankees or Red Sox will thus have
Hank Blalock of the last-place Rangers to thank for their extra
home game this October. This scheme was intended to increase
interest in MLB's midsummer showcase, but succeeded only in
halting its ratings decline. The 2003 All-Star Game's 9.5
rating matched that earned by the 2002 fiasco, and was actually
lower than the game's 9.8 rating in Japan, where it began at
9:30 AM.
Does Japanese baseball need a slightly used American
Commissioner?
Copyright © 2003 Doug Pappas. All rights
reserved.
Originally published in the August 2003 issue of Boston
Baseball.
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