Stoking the hot stove, I motored to Comiskey Park Monday, finishing on Bill Veeck Drive, of course. Once inside, I encountered the ebullient Ron Kittle.
”Which would you rather be, a good ballplayer or an owner?” Kittle asked.
Because I am neither, I was slow to reply.
”Where do you think the most money is?” Kittle demanded.
What with seven new $3-million-a-year players, all elevated to that status within the last two months, it is obvious much of the money is going to the superstar player.
”Not only are (the ballplayers) making more money than the owner,”
Kittle observed, ”but they don`t have as many headaches.”
Kittle pondered this rare circumstance. In other industries, the owner, not the employee, has the larger haul.
”One way or another, someone`s got to put a stop on it,” Kittle insisted. ”There`s a lot of money out there. One owner starts paying $3 million, then everyone has to pay.”
It sounded like heresy: a ballplayer admitting some of his fellow players are making too much money.
To be certain I was hearing correctly, I asked Kittle if he was referring to player salaries.
”Yes, salaries,” he replied.
But the more Kittle spoke, the more I realized where he was coming from. Beneath the iceberg of the $2- and $3-million salaries lay a less-publicized fact of life in the big leagues: The marginal player is being squeezed.
What has been happening for several years is that every time an owner signs a player for big money, he tries to hold the line on his utilitymen. And if the owner doesn`t succeed, if the player argues and says he is entitled to a commensurate salary increase, the owner shows him to the door. The player is given his release and replaced with a minimum-salaried rookie.
It`s not an uncommon scenario.
Take the case of Steve Lyons of the White Sox. Last season, Lyons was the quintessential utilityman, playing every position but pitcher.
Moving from position to position as he did, Lyons` play in the field was remarkably good. Offensively, his contribution was only fair, a .264 average, with three home runs and 50 runs batted in. He is ticketed for a similar utility role during the season ahead, if there is a season.
His total compensation last year, salary and bonuses, was $220,000, an increase of $99,000 from the previous season. Looking around, Lyons has discovered some teams-not many, but a few-have $500,000 utilitymen. Why not him?
A three-year major-leaguer, Lyons can go to arbitration and probably win. But if he wins, he also could lose, because the economic Sox management could decide $400,000 to $500,000 for a reserve is too much. Lyons could be released. In that event, his only recourse would be to sign with another club. But his salary then would be zero, and his new club would not be obligated to offer him more than the $68,000 minimum.
The fallout from the multimillion-dollar salaries similarly has affected Sox outfielder Dave Gallagher. In 1988, he had a sensational rookie season. He batted .303, the club`s only .300 hitter; he also was errorless. Last year, he was the only player to appear in all 161 Sox games. His average dropped to .266.
And where is Gallagher in the money derby?
Bringing up the rear. In `88, he played for what was then the $62,500 minimum. When he held out last spring, his contract was renewed at $80,000. True, he could have earned a higher wage in `89 if he had agreed to a multiyear contract. If he had, his arbitration eligibility would have been delayed for at least one year.
Players are eligible for arbitration after three years of major-league service. Because he has been with the Sox the last two seasons, it would seem Gallagher will have his three years in after the `90 season. Wrong. The rule is three full years. He will be nine days short. He must wait until after the `91 season.
Not necessarily Gallagher, but the service time of dozens of other players has been delayed purposely. Simple does it. Send the rookie to the minors for the first two weeks of a new season, or for only one week, and he can`t possibly complete the 172-day requirement for a full season. He always will be short-seven days, 13 days, whatever. So he must play what is virtually the equivalent of four full seasons for three full years of service.
Joe Magrane, the St. Louis pitching star, spent the first eight days of the 1987 season with the Cardinals` Louisville farm club. Because of this, Magrane must wait four seasons for arbitration. The Cardinals always can say Magrane wasn`t ready; he needed to work on an extra pitch, or they already had a set rotation, etc.
These are some of the tricks of ownership. To one degree or another, all of the clubs have been guilty. It will be interesting to see what happens in Arizona this spring to rookie third baseman Ty Griffin. Will he open the season with the Cubs, or with their Triple-A Iowa affiliate in the American Assocation?
Whatever, there is more to big-league salaries than meets the eye. As the compensation chasm widens, not only is team play likely to suffer, but the careers of a substantial number of players-good players-are being shortened. When you read about another $3-million signing, you will be correct in assuming two or three veteran players, in the lower-middle income range, will be replaced by rookies.
In all, it was a pleasant day at Comiskey Park. The White Sox held a press luncheon to kick off their annual winter caravan and also offered a hard-hat walking tour of the new ballpark. Construction continues apace. Looks good. Kittle didn`t hit a home run. He couldn`t find the batter`s box.
