I wanted to wait until the PR smokescreen
cleared before I made any further comment
on baseball's stalled labor negotiations and
strike date threats. Today, the Major League
Baseball Players Association set August 30th
as their strike date if a new labor agreement
is not reached before then. Let me be the
first to say, thank you, greedy fucking assholes.
Does anyone remember what a strike is anymore?
Let me refresh our collective memories here,
since they seem to be undertaken so lightly
nowadays. A strike, in theory, is supposed
to be a desperate measure, one borne of
absolute and unwavering necessity. There
is supposed to be a noticeable financial
risk - for most people, not collecting a
paycheck every week is the equivalent of
not eating or having a roof to sleep under
for much longer. People put their families
on the line to fight for fair wages and
to bargain with some leverage. Baseball
players have made a mockery of the labor
strike for decades now, waiting until they've
collected most of their million dollar paychecks
throughout the summer before deciding to
"take a stand."
Alex Rodriguez will lose one hundred thousand
dollars each day he is on strike, chump
change out of his hefty 252 million dollar
contract. My stepfather works two jobs,
both hard labor, and won't even make that
much in a whole fucking year of sweat. While
A-Rod scratches his ass August 30th, he'll
have already given up more money than some
people make in two years. The average salary
for professional baseball players is over
2 million dollars. What other non-sports
related occupation makes that much money
as a middle of the road salary?
This shit is beyond ridiculous, it's fucking
sick. The owners, despite a cleverly constructed
campaign PR, are far from the innocent,
cash-strapped fan-sympathizers they make
themselves out to be. The only reason they
want to lower player salaries is so that
they can pocket more of the revenue from
their teams, rather than putting them into
payroll. Owners are not on the fans' side,
they're all about lining their pockets with
the fans' hard-earned cash.
When I went to Fenway Park last week, I
almost shat myself when I was charged FOUR
FUCKING DOLLARS - not pesos, not yen, DOLLARS
- for a 20 ounce bottle of Coke. After I
choked on my hotdog for almost five bucks
and got my credit card bill back for my
fifty-dollar grandstand seat, I flipped
on SportsCenter (piece of shit show, by
the way) to hear that baseball was facing
financial "discussions." Correct
me if I'm wrong, but isn't the raping we
get at ballparks and in pro shops enough
to support several small countries, never
mind a single national sport?
These are the same penny-pinching, overpaid
prima-fucking-donnas that caused the cancellation
of the 1994 World Series, a black day in
baseball history. Anyone who can feel good
about striking over three million dollars
a year versus four million dollars a year
might want to try cleaning toilets for a
day, or emptying garbage, or even teaching
kids for crissakes.
If this strike goes through, baseball will
suffer an immeasurable blow. No longer will
it be America's pastime, the grand ole game
or the nation's interest during the summer
months. The game that once belonged to the
fans has slowly morphed into a society of
greedy ungratefuls basking in mediocrity
and gluttonous wealth. In baseball's long
and storied history, no national catastrophe
has ever cancelled the World Series - no
war, famine, or financial uncertainty could
ever take the Fall Classic away from us.
Until 1994. Greed and ignorance together
make a disgusting combo. It's taken baseball
almost ten years to recover from that debacle.
If this strike happens, it might never.
And it would serve them right.
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