Big Money

By Marshall Adesman

My wife and I recently had dinner with friends, and the conversation bounced around, as it often does. One topic that was touched upon was the huge amount of money often paid to professional athletes, and our friends decried this avarice at a time when so many people are going hungry, while others need to work two jobs just to put food on the table. I agree that many athletes in all of our major sports are paid far more than they seem to be worth, especially compared to, say, teachers, to whom we simply entrust educating and helping to mold our children, but we also need to keep in mind basic economics. That is, with just a few exceptions, the owners wouldn't dish out these huge salaries if they couldn't somehow cover them. So the Red Sox, for instance, aren't trying to trade Manny Ramirez because they can't afford him any more, they can certainly make the payments, they're just tired of Manny being Manny.

The dinner discussion moved on, but I'd like to continue it here, you lucky devils! There is, actually, a money issue that does consistently burn my toast, but it doesn't center around A-Rod or Clemens or anyone like that. As Exhibit A, I would like to throw out the name of Luke Hochevar for your consideration.

Mr. Hochevar most recently pitched for the University of Tennessee, and was considered such a strong prospect that he became the Dodgers' top pick in this past June's draft, the 40th player selected overall. In an attempt to get him to sign a professional contract, the ballclub has supposedly offered nearly three million dollars to Mr. Hochevar, but as of this writing he continues to hold out for a better deal.

Now, the Southeastern Conference is admittedly a pretty good one. Just this past spring, for instance, nine of their twelve schools were selected for the NCAA tournament; both Tennessee and Florida made it to the College World Series in Omaha and the Gators made it as far as the finals, where they lost to Texas. Some terrific players have worn SEC uniforms - current stars Frank Thomas, Todd Helton and Brian Roberts immediately come to mind, as well as former All-Stars like Will Clark and Bo Jackson and I'm sure oh-so many others. And one day fans may talk about having seen Mr. Hochevar pitch for the Vols, should he go on to major league stardom. But right now he has not stared down Albert Pujols, Barry Bonds or Andruw Jones, has not tried to keep Juan Pierre or Jose Reyes close, has not gone head-to-head against Jason Schmidt or Brandon Webb or Jake Peavy with the division title on the line. Luke Hochevar is currently not a major league pitcher, but he must think he is because he terms the Dodgers' offer "a bad contract."

Now, according to published reports, Los Angeles offered this young man somewhere between $2.3 and $3 million, but this is "a bad contract"? All of those who agree, please raise their hands - hmmm, I thought so.

Major League Baseball has never really developed a cohesive plan for corralling young amateur talent. Before we had a draft, teams were allowed to sign anyone and everyone and, as you might expect, the richer teams were able to lure the best talent. From the end of World War II until the end of 1964, various rules were put in place to try and curb bonuses given to untried players, but nothing worked until the June (official name: Rule 4) draft was instituted after the 1965 college season had ended. But even that began spiraling out of control when the Yankees gave a high school southpaw, Brien Taylor, $1.55 million in 1991. J.D. Drew's signing by the Cardinals in 1998 set the bar even higher, as he was not only given a bonus in excess of $3 million, but a major league contact to boot. And in 2000, the White Sox gave Stanford outfielder Joe Borchard $5.3 million to keep him from playing football for the university and perhaps eventually going to the NFL.

In my opinion, major league executives are stupid for paying this kind of money to untried high school and college kids. The draft is an annual crapshoot, a guess by major league clubs as to who will be able to make a meaningful contribution down the line. For every Alex Rodriguez and Chipper Jones, you find a David Clyde or Al Chambers, highly-touted youngsters who receive big bonuses and then fall on their faces. A few years ago, Ben McDonald was the next coming of Walter Johnson, but he came up almost 340 wins shy of the Big Train. A look at the largest bonuses in history turns up such current stars as Mark Teixeira, Josh Beckett, Mark Prior, Joe Mauer and Mark Mulder, but also such names as Gavin Floyd, Josh Hamilton, Adam Loewen, and the aforementioned Mr. Borchard. When your favorite team makes its selections on draft day, they are simply wishing and hoping, but they're still investing big bucks. A couple of years ago, the Phillies committed some $90 million to free agent Jim Thome (whom they have since traded this off-season to the White Sox), but at least Thome had a proven track record as a consistent run-producer and perennial All-Star, and he didn't exactly flame out in Philadelphia, cracking 89 homers and driving in 236 runs in his first two years before injuring his back this past season. Can anyone look at the list of high school and college players eligible every spring and say with certainty that they are going to put up similar numbers? No, of course not.

This is my pet peeve and I freely admit it, and I also understand that most fans don't share my fervor for the subject because, after all, these kids are generally at least a couple of years (or more) away from the bigs, so these bonuses don't really have an immediate impact at the major league level. Oh really? Let's go back to Mr. Thome. The Cleveland Indians, his former employer, didn't re-sign him in 2002 because they said they couldn't afford him. Earlier in the year they gave more than a million dollars to a Florida high school kid named Matt Whitney. Is it possible that extra cash might have enticed Thome to stay in Cleveland? We'll never know. Also, what happens when a kid doesn't live up to the hype and washes out in the minors? Well, the player has his money, so while he may feel badly that he couldn't succeed as a professional athlete, he can soothe his bruised ego by purchasing another Porsche. The team, on the other hand, has nothing to show for its six, seven or eight-figure investment, and somewhere along the line it raises the price of tickets or hot dogs or souvenir pennants; in other words, we fans do pay for our team's draft-day gamble.

For a number of years I have been advocating a solution that I know will never be accepted by the Nosferatus of the game, the agents, who have contributed mightily towards this evil inflationary spiral. (The players and their families must also share the blame, of course. This is all a continuation of the "me-first" attitude we see nowadays, from the SUV driver who cuts you off on the highway to the Enron and WorldCom corporate executives who make sure they get their money at the expense of employees and stockholders.) And if you've come this far with me, I'd like to ask your indulgence for a few minutes more while I outline my plan.

We all know that in baseball, and all other team sports, players are paid for next year (and beyond) based on what they did last year (and earlier). In other words, a lucrative long-term contract is awarded after the player has proven himself. But as we have seen, that logic is completely reversed following the June draft, as big bucks are spent on projections. So let's make the amateurs follow the professional model, right from the get-go. If the Dodgers, or someone else, agrees to give Luke Hochevar better than $3 million, it should be in stages, with the player getting only a small percentage when he signs his name, followed by scheduled payments as he proves himself as a professional.

Let me illustrate: suppose we say that Mr. Hochevar and the Dodgers eventually agree to a $4 million bonus (hey, it's not my money, right?) Under my plan, at signing he gets, oh, $250,000. That's not exactly minimum wage, and frankly I think that any high school or college boy who turns up his nose at that kind of up-front money needs to be ushered into his neighborhood McDonald's and taught to run the fry machine. ("Think you're going to earn that kind of money working an eight-hour shift somewhere, son? Well, best of luck to you.") OK, back to my thought -- so he takes his money and heads off to the Gulf Coast or Pioneer League. He does well enough to earn a promotion the next spring to the South Atlantic or Florida State League. That promotion earns him more money. Whenever he advances to the Southern League (Double-A) and the Pacific Coast League (Triple-A), he gets another payment, and if he makes it to the majors he gets a big balloon disbursement that brings his bonus up to the negotiated $4 million. The advantage to the club is it only pays for the production it is getting; if the player doesn't advance out of A-ball, the team doesn't owe him any more money. The incentive for the player is obvious - as he moves up he is not only closer to the majors but is also richer by a pre-determined amount. I would also stipulate that the player must remain on the roster of his new club, no matter the level, for at least thirty days before he is eligible to receive his money.

As I said earlier, the agents would violently oppose such a system, but if the Players' Association could somehow be persuaded to go along it might be viewed, in time, as nothing short of a minor revolution. And I actually think it is possible they could be made to understand that they are not fully serving their rank-and-file -- the major league players -- by allowing these non-members to enter the game as millionaires.

At the end of next season, the Basic Agreement between players and owners will need to be re-negotiated. I have no idea if the Rule 4 draft will be a topic of discussion, but I strongly believe that it ought to be high on management's list. I also think that, if union and management don't act in the next round of talks, they will have missed out on an opportunity to right a wrong that has existed in baseball for some six decades. Reaching the major leagues and making their mark should be the goal of these amateur players, not becoming instant millionaires. The time has come to remind these high school and college kids -- plus their families and advisors! -- that "paying your dues" still holds some meaning in America.