FOR LOVE OR MONEY*As published in the Xenia Gazette 12/24/10*

By: Brooke Hundley

They’re numbers the average American doesn’t see everyday: $142 million, $126 million, $120 million. Numbers that conjure images of a spectacular mansion, a private island getaway, or perhaps a luxury aircraft only the wealthiest could afford. Yet if I were to reveal that these numbers were actually the purchase prices for a 29-year-old major league outfielder, a 31-year-old outfielder and a 32-year-old pitcher, many wouldn’t even bat an eye. Every off-season since the birth of free agency and the long lost days when a team could pay a top player whatever they wanted the same banter can be heard among baseball fans: “The richest of the rich in baseball buy the best players, while the rest of the teams struggle to compete.”

When the Red Sox locked down multi-million dollar contracts on Adrian Gonzalez, Carl Crawford, and Bobby Jenks, and a rumor erupted that maybe momentarily the Red Sox payroll was slightly higher than the Yankees, I watched with surprised as fans of the team defended their purchases not by acknowledging they had simply spent to improve their club, but instead placing the blame on the Yankees for forcing them to spend to remain competitive.

When Cliff Lee took a pay cut to return to Philadelphia over New York or Texas, I witnessed the same phenomenon that had presented itself in my Red Sox friends dominating Phillies fans. Lee had taken less, but in reality was hardly going to a small market franchise, the Phillies had laid down $120 million for him over five years, a team that had a payroll last year ranking fourth in the major leagues at just shy of $143 million, including paying pitcher Roy Halladay $15.75 million a year. Yet one Phillies friend after another remarked on how Lee had come to a park that didn’t spend wildly and “didn’t buy championships.”

It seems as time has gone on more and more fans are finding themselves caught in a catch-22, wanting to have the best without earning the name of a money-grubbing “evil empire.” When aging players Derek Jeter and Edgar Renteria made complaints that the million-dollar offers their hometown franchises made were a “disgrace,” it fell on deaf ears with many viewing them as greedy and selfish. And as I watch rookies like Troy Tulowitzki and Jay Bruce sign contract extensions long before free agency, announcing their devotion to the small market fans of Denver and Cincinnati, and even Cliff Lee refusing more money for the first plane back to Philly, it almost seems that what’s cool again is to take less and simply enjoy the game.

In a down economy where many Americans are out of work and MLB clubs still earn $7 billion in revenues, it’s refreshing to find players remembering why they first became ballplayers. At the end of the day commissioner Bud Selig will likely continue to pretend that the worst teams in baseball don’t have extensive revenues they should be spending instead of lining their pockets with, and that a luxury tax on the rich isn’t doing little to inhibit spending. So maybe it’s up to the fans to remind and praise the players who

already know that it’s not about million dollar deals, but an appreciation of a pastime that’s as homegrown as apple pie. A sport where kids spend their summers practicing their swings and racing to get autographs from their favorite stars, and maintain a thirst for the game that gifted players never grow out of. Like Pete Rose who said it best, “I’d walk through hell in a gasoline suit to play baseball.”