Baseball presents a paradox, though. Come this time of year, instead of chewing out the greedy teams, or over-paid players, we love to hate on the people that represent the players. Bringers of all things unholy, the agents fight to make sure the best players get the most money. Well, if agents are evil satanists, then that makes Scott Boras look like this guy:
Hey, at least he doesn't eat monkey brains. Boras grabs more money for his players than any agent in the game, and his work has fundamentally changed the economics of baseball. If you're wondering what kind of magic he can work, just try picturing whether you can trick a team into paying Barry Zito $126 million to be a 5th starter. Uh yeah, that's what I thought.
Boras really draws the ire of the crowds, though. Why is that?
Boras really draws the ire of the crowds, though. Why is that?
Back in the day, baseball was dominated by the owners. Just like in The Natural, or Major League for that matter, the man who owned the team owned the players, and he was not necessarily a nice guy.
Enter the Major League Baseball Players' Association. At the time of their formation (1965), the minimum wage for baseball players was $6,000 a season. If only paid for being at the ballpark on gamedays (excluding weight training and practice time), and assuming a 3 hour game with an hour for warmup and an hour for shower/interviews, the total time spent in a season is 162 games * 5 hrs/game = 810 hours. That comes out to $7.40 an hour, which even back then is not a lot, given that you "work" under 40 hours a week. Since the formation of the players' union, though, everything about baseball has gotten bigger. Revenue, attendance, merchandise, and salaries have all sky-rocketed. And the players have been able to reap the most benefit out of this growth.
Now, I'll try to come back to my original point. When an industry grows, be it from more sales or increased efficiency, there are several options as to what you can do with the money. Some pay off the top owners and investors. Others reinvest the money back in the business. Still others raise the salaries of employees. All are legal, yet only the last really catches the heart of protesters and union supporters. They love to fight for the little guy, and there's definitely some noble qualities there. This is not a criticism of those beliefs, just an errort to reconcile them with baseball's market. Shouldn't agents, who in effect are just trying to get as much money as possible for an industry's basic employees, be supported by the same protesters?
So that's why I find it so unusual that people flip out over Walmart squeezing stock boys, GM firing employees, or AIG throwing parties yet still lose their cool when agents fight for their players. One can argue that of any industry in the world, the one where the employees make the highest percentage of income is baseball. Baseball is an arena where the union won, and they won big. Yet we hate the people who fight for their right to 'fair' compensation.
I guess this provides some interesting psychological tidbits. For one, we love our team, not just the players on it. A player asking for more money is in effect weakening our team. Yet it's not the players' fault, somehow. We recognize that he's talented and deserves a raise. It's that damn agent of his! By having an agent, the player removes himself by one degree from the greed and the ire of the public.
In this way, we identify most with the owners or general managers. Perhaps if Merryl Lynch wants to get public opinion on their side, they should start a baseball team (and let allow their employees to get representation).
Now, I'll try to come back to my original point. When an industry grows, be it from more sales or increased efficiency, there are several options as to what you can do with the money. Some pay off the top owners and investors. Others reinvest the money back in the business. Still others raise the salaries of employees. All are legal, yet only the last really catches the heart of protesters and union supporters. They love to fight for the little guy, and there's definitely some noble qualities there. This is not a criticism of those beliefs, just an errort to reconcile them with baseball's market. Shouldn't agents, who in effect are just trying to get as much money as possible for an industry's basic employees, be supported by the same protesters?
So that's why I find it so unusual that people flip out over Walmart squeezing stock boys, GM firing employees, or AIG throwing parties yet still lose their cool when agents fight for their players. One can argue that of any industry in the world, the one where the employees make the highest percentage of income is baseball. Baseball is an arena where the union won, and they won big. Yet we hate the people who fight for their right to 'fair' compensation.
I guess this provides some interesting psychological tidbits. For one, we love our team, not just the players on it. A player asking for more money is in effect weakening our team. Yet it's not the players' fault, somehow. We recognize that he's talented and deserves a raise. It's that damn agent of his! By having an agent, the player removes himself by one degree from the greed and the ire of the public.
In this way, we identify most with the owners or general managers. Perhaps if Merryl Lynch wants to get public opinion on their side, they should start a baseball team (and let allow their employees to get representation).
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