In the event the baseball strike isn't resolved, putting replacement players in place of bona fide major-leaguers and charging regular ticket prices is a game plan, if implemented, that's going to be difficult for a demanding American public to accept. But that same American public isn't always discerning.
For the most part, the majority of fans wouldn't be able to tell a minor-leaguer from a major-leaguer. If clothes make the man, then the same general perception applies when you enter a ballpark. A major-league uniform brings with it an immediate aura of approval.
As a onetime minor-league player we'd talk in the bullpen, kind of a wishful hypothesis, that if by some quirk of fate a team from the low minors was placed in a major-league setting, wearing the togs of their big-league brothers, few spectators would be able to tell the difference. How true.
It would still be professional baseball.
Such a scenario may come about if the major-league owners decide to open their parks and bring in a mix of young prospects and veteran types, the so-called career minor-leaguers, to maintain some semblance of continuity.
We in the media have for the most part insisted, with our usual claim to infallibility, that such a strike-breaking practice wouldn't work but, of course, there's no ongoing record to speak of when it comes to being right about a myriad of other subjects.
Maybe the viewing public wouldn't be so annoyed by the fill-in players (as we sportswriters suspect) that it would refuse to buy tickets in an effort to boycott the performances. Some fans would; others wouldn't. The fill-ins just might draw more wide-range support than originally anticipated.
For a contrasting perspective we are interested in presenting the viewpoints of two long-time baseball watchers who say they are so disgusted with what's happening they'll pass up the major-leaguers if they return but, instead, will be elated to pay to see the replacements.
"What we're attempting to do is make a statement," explained Bob Rementer, golf professional at the Caroline Country Club in Denton.
Joining him in making the same stand and offering similar reaction against the regular major-leaguers is Robert "Lanky" Bilbrough Sr., of Ridgely, who says, "The players are like a lot of career politicians -- they never worked a day in their lives. We fans ought to teach them a lesson."
Rementer and Bilbrough have attempted to talk with Joe Foss, director of business affairs for the Baltimore Orioles. What they want to do is elicit a promise from Foss that if they buy season tickets to watch the replacements, the club will agree to refund their money should the regulars return.
Now this makes for a strange new twist to the convoluted labor madness. They'll gladly welcome the replacements, those brought up from the minors, but will reject the major-leaguers who have refused to agree to a salary cap as decreed by the owners.
"I would like to see the regular major-leaguers go out into the real world and see what they'd make of themselves," added Rementer. "It wouldn't be much. What kind of job skills do they have?"
Bilbrough, proud to say he's from Ridgely, the same town that produced Frank "Buck" Herzog, former major-league player and manager, concurs with Rementer.
"Some of the players have been on the bench for five years, mere utility men, yet make millions of dollars," he said. "The owners aren't without flaws. But the players are even more arrogant and just as stupid. They've turned off the public. From what I read, the members of the press want the players to win."
He may well be right. Still, Bilbrough is so upset over the dispute that he arranged an appointment to see Rep. Bob Livingston (R-La.) and told him that as the senior member of the House Appropriations Committee not to go with either side in any effort to remove baseball's antitrust exemption.
"I'd like for that to stand because baseball has been our oldest, most respected and unique professional sport," Bilbrough said.
Back to Rementer. Asked if he thought the quality of play on a continuing basis would show obvious signs of decline, providing replacement personnel was used, he answered, "A game is a game. It's kind of like horse racing. A $10,000 claiming race can be just as competitive as a $50,000 claimer. A race is a race, just like a game is a game."
Rementer believes when players begin to hurt financially and their automobiles are being repossessed and they have to scramble to meet mortgage payments and can't get complimentary greens fees at the golf course, they'll make a belated return to baseball.
That's when he and his friend Bilbrough -- while believing, but not knowing, if they speak for numerous others -- promise they'll withdraw their ticket money.