THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc. DATE: MONDAY, June 6, 1994 TAG: 9406060126 SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C3 EDITION: FINAL SOURCE: Bob Molinaro DATELINE: 940606 LENGTH: Medium
We know O'Neill is no Teddy Ballgame, but baseball fans need their dreams.
{REST} Instead, what the fans are expected to get is a nightmare. It will probably come sometime after the All-Star Game, in the form of a players strike.
The work stoppage likely will put an end to a season that is being held prisoner to hostile, ineffective negotiations between players and owners.
The season will end suddenly, prematurely, bitterly.
We will never know if Ken Griffey Jr. could have slugged 62 home runs.
Or if a sub-.500 team would have captured the American League West.
We won't know how many runs Joe Carter could have knocked in.
Or if a wildcard team would have won the World Series. There will be no World Series.
Players from major league teams recently held meetings to discuss how strike funds will be used. That's how serious this is.
The players are fighting to keep things the way they are. They like the status quo. Can you blame them?
The owners want to share revenues with one another. But only if the players accept a salary cap like the ones used in the NBA and NFL.
The baseball players look around and see that the NBA union believes that the cap is now obsolete. And in the NFL, the cap is viewed as a major victory for the owners, a debacle for the players.
In major league clubhouses, players are being told that they may have to live off two-thirds of their salaries. But what is going to keep the fans alive?
This is not the owners' concern. The owners, behind their chief negotiator, Richard Ravitch, want to break the players' union. They want to get rid of arbitration.
In order to get what they want, the owners would be willing to sacrifice the season. Our season.
Without a commissioner to look out for the best interest of the fans, the owners are free to consider their own best interests.
The players' only leverage is a walkout. If the season ends without a new contract, the power swings back to the owners.
Baseball is our game. It is the owners' business. Who do you think will miss it more?
A strike means that Cal Ripken's Iron Man streak goes on hold.
It means that Harry Caray will have nowhere to croak ``Take Me Out to the Ballgame.''
It means that fathers and sons won't have boxscores to share.
It is not bad enough that baseball chops itself up into smaller divisions and mimics the NBA playoff system. Or that artificial turf, a shrinking strike zone and indoor baseball make the game difficult to recognize. Or that the National Pastime's postseason has been parked on regional television.
Now we see that baseball will not be satisfied until it inflicts a mortal wound on this season. On its fans.
A strike means no more crowds of 46,518 at Camden Yards.
No more Kinerisms.
No more heroics from Barry Bonds.
No chance for Paul O'Neill to hit a meaningful .400.
It means alternative summer sports entertainment. The Canadian Football League, perhaps. The Colorado Silver Bullets, maybe.
A strike looks inevitable. The negotiations are going nowhere.
Be prepared, baseball fans, when the All-Star break is followed by heartbreak.
by CNB