By Arthur Vidro
By Arthur Vidro
We take for granted that professional athletes can sell their services to any team. It wasn’t always so.
When I was 8, I read a biography of second baseman Billy Martin. In one scene, the Yankees mailed him a contract for the upcoming year. He sent it back unsigned.
That was his way of demanding a raise; but if the Yankees wouldn’t send him another contract, then he wouldn’t be allowed to play for any team. Eventually, the Yankees raised his salary and Martin signed.
Labor lawyer Marvin Miller once explained the set-up this way:
“Every player’s contract had what was known as a renewal clause. Almost every contract in those days was for one year. At the end of the contract, there was a paragraph that said the player and the club agreed that, by the following March 1 after the contract expires, if the player and the club have been unable to agree on a salary for the forthcoming season, the club, by serving a written notice to the player within ten days, shall have the right to renew the contract for one additional year for any amount no less than 80% of the previous year’s salary.”
In short, a team always had the right to renew a player’s contract for another year. Each player was told to sign the renewed contract to be allowed into uniform. So they signed, perpetuating the system.
On January 16, 1970, All Star center fielder Curt Flood, unhappy about being traded by the Cardinals, legally challenged the reserve clause.
His lawsuit reached the U.S. Supreme Court. By a 5-3 vote (one abstention) in June 1972, the court upheld the owners. Flood had lost. But the closeness of the vote, and the willingness of the court to hear the case, focused player awareness on the issue, and opened the doors for binding arbitration.
Players discussed the idea of not signing the automatically-renewed contracts, hoping the reserve-clause renewal was legal for one year only; after that year, they would have met their obligations under the signed contract and should become free agents.
Dodger pitcher Andy Messersmith played the 1975 season under the renewal clause without having signed a 1975 contract. Now the reserve clause was ready to be tested, via binding arbitration. The commissioner of baseball and a league president testified that free agency would cause less-affluent teams to go bankrupt, reducing baseball to one league. The arbitrator shocked the owners by ruling for the players. (The owners fired him a day later.)
No teams went bankrupt. No league dissolved.
It took additional years before free agency reached football, but the dye had been cast.
Prior to free agency, there had been zero million-dollar salaries in baseball. Mickey Mantle retired after the 1968 season, and his salary never topped $100,000.
The average Major League Baseball player salary in 1966 was $19,000.
When I was growing up, Joe DiMaggio – perhaps the greatest ballplayer – was hawking Mr. Coffee on commercials. I figure he had to, because he never earned enough during his playing days to build for a long retirement.
But with free agency, the spigots opened wide.
What are the consequences? Ticket prices soared, so teams could afford to lure free agents. Owners, seeking top dollar, moved broadcasts of games to cable; before that, anyone could tune in to watch the local team without paying a cent.
Player movement became normal. From 1973 – before free agency – through 1981, the Dodger infield for nine straight years was Steve Garvey, Davey Lopes, Bill Russell, and Ron Cey. Such continuity does not happen today.
Fans’ attitudes changed. We used to think of a local player as “our” player. Now we realize each player is just being leased. Part of the here today, gone tomorrow society.
Before free agency, salaries seldom generated headlines. Without bidding wars, salaries didn’t become news.
But the biggest change was that ballplayers no longer needed off-season jobs, and it became less important to enter a new career upon retiring from sports.
They now had enough money which, if not squandered, could fund their retirement years. One reason Curt Flood sued was because he didn’t want to leave the non-sports business he had built up over his 12 years in St. Louis.
The lack of free agency motivated players so inclined to plan ahead.
Hall of Fame defensive tackle Alan Page played before free agency and realized he needed a post-football income. While still a Viking, he began attending law school. From 1993 to 2015 he served on the Minnesota Supreme Court.
Bill Lenkaitis was the most versatile New England Patriot, ever. From 1971 to 1981 he snapped the ball to Jim Plunkett and Steve Grogan. That was before free agency, so he needed a post-football career. He earned a medical degree and started his practice while still playing for the team. Sometimes without leaving the stadium.
For Bill Lenkaitis wasn’t just the Patriots’ center; Dr. Lenkaitis was also the team dentist.
If you have consumerism questions, send them to Arthur Vidro in the care of this newspaper, which publishes his column every weekend.
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