It all started almost two years ago when, just because they could, the overstuffed shopkeeps who run baseball's legalized monopolies committed mischief by declaring negotiations on a new Basic Agreement reopened a full year before the existing document expired.
What has unfurled since might well be history's longest running game of charades -- Guinness could not be reached for confirmation -- a low comedy in which neither players nor owners ever seemed to have a clue trying to decipher the signals being semaphored from the other side of the bargaining table.
This led to a certain amount of slapstick. The owners preached their desire for a partnership with the hired help, then withheld a scheduled payment to the union's pension plan because the players had mentioned they would (ital) consider (end ital) going strike. The owners forlornly turned their pockets inside out to demonstrate their imminent financial ruin, but somehow seemed find the resources to make the usual quota of free agents very wealthy young men this offseason.
There was nothing at all comical, however, about the announcement made in Washington, D.C., last night. With the players still stubbornly refusing not to accept the cash that the owners continued to dangle, an impasse was declared. Beginning at one minute past midnight this morning, baseball changed forever.
Management imposed its own economic system, basically the one that the Major League Baseball Players Association dismissed out of hand in June. Baseball has merged with professional football and basketball in the Salary Cap League.
All along, the owners have tried to argue their case on two tired bromides, the need to restore competitive balance and the necessity to restrict salaries. They were able to muster a convincing case for neither.
And all along, instead, this tawdry hairpull has come off as lTC nothing more noble than a naked power grab, a final chance to slap down the union that has dramatically tilted the balance of power in the last two decades.
Even though the latest management maneuver was fully predictable, it was a slight jolt when the most recent flurry of negotiating activity and the best efforts of respected federal arbitrator William Usery ended with the announcement that time had finally run out.
Who says baseball is the only sport without a clock?
Anyway, the first wave of reactions will be predictable. That this means spring training is in jeopardy, that teams will now scramble to line up replacement players, that the newest parlor game will be to speculate on which big league players will be the first to crack and cross the invisible picket lines.
Maybe. But I don't think so. I think pitchers and catchers, real pitchers and catchers, will report to camp in mid-February as usual. I think the full squads, real full squads, will be in a week later. I think the regular season, the real regular season, will start on time.
Here's how and why: It will happen because, best current guess is, the players will shortly file all their claims of unfair labor practices against the owners with the National Labor Relations Board. That done, the MLBPA could very well announce that it has called off the strike and will sign a pledge not to walk out again until the issue is settled in the courts.
That is the only action that makes sense for the players at this point. Their only other option is to remain on strike while they're fighting in court. That would mean that the players wouldn't get paid. That would mean that Don Fehr, the union's executive director, has to worry each and every day about the solidarity of his membership. And make no mistake: at the recent Players Association gathering in Atlanta, behind closed doors, the idea of indefinite sacrifice for some vague future good didn't enjoy unanimous support.
But the owners are vulnerable, too. Yeah, they could open the season with replacement players. But if I'm, say, Philadelphia owner Bill Giles, I might feel a little queasy thinking about the mob scene around Veterans Stadium when the Eagles played a game with scab players a few years back.
And that doesn't even begin to address the issue of the Toronto Blue Jays who, under laws of the province of Ontario, can't use replacement players. There is some thought that the Expos, in Quebec, could have the same problem. As long as the players promise not to strike again, the owners can hardly head off that move by locking out. That would allow the players to file grievances claiming they should receive their salaries. And it wouldn't help management defend their NLRB suits or fend off challenges to their antitrust exemption.
/# This soap opera isn't over yet.