You are viewing this site with a web browser which does not support web standards.
There’s been a lot of talk this year—as there seems to be pretty much every year—about how unfair it is to be anything other than a New York Yankees fan. This is because the New York Yankees have more money than any team in baseball, and because owner George Steinbrenner consistently spends it in order to win.
Case in point: Earlier this year, after tense negotiations, the Boston Red Sox failed to acquire all-star Alex Rodriguez from the Texas Rangers. With Boston unwilling to take on the $179 million remaining on A-Rod’s $252 million contract, the Yankees stepped in and signed him—with Texas agreeing to swallow roughly a third of the money owed. This prompted Red Sox owner John Henry to suggest Major League Baseball needs a salary cap to prevent the sport’s wealthiest teams from spending like the sport’s wealthiest teams.
“There is really no other fair way to deal with a team that has gone so insanely far beyond the resources of all the other teams,” Mr. Henry said of baseball’s winningest franchise.
And he’s right: Shy of taking a sledgehammer to each Yankee’s kneecaps, there’s no other way to deal with ‘em. But the question is, should they be dealt with at all?
The idea behind a salary cap is that it imposes parity on a professional sports league. And make no mistake: Parity isn’t without its merits. It makes things interesting. It keeps you guessing till the end.
As a Yankee fan, I’ve got to admit I get bored with winning every year. Yeah, I know this sounds smug, but I mean it. Last fall I rooted for the Red Sox to take on the Cubs in the Series. Neither team has won in nearly a hundred years. Only an angry, vengeful God could’ve prevented at least one of the two from walking away a winner, and I would’ve enjoyed the drama.
I also find it hard, as a Yankee fan, to warm up to some of the superstars The Boss brings in every year. It’s the fact that he needs to bring them in that bothers me. I like teams built on strong farm systems more than teams made up of free agent all-stars. It’s more organic that way. But that’s not the way modern sports are played. So I’ll take a winning team over a losing one any day, no matter who’s wearing the uniform. Most fans would. And Mr. Steinbrenner knows this. That’s why he brings in the best players he can buy.
Mr. Henry tried to do the same with Alex Rodriguez, but failed. The team with baseball’s biggest payroll outbid the team with baseball’s second biggest payroll. Now he wants a salary cap to prevent it from happening again. The Yanks must be stopped, he says. They’re out of control. And he’s willing to sacrifice the financial advantages his Red Sox have over teams like the Brewers, Pirates, and Devil Rays just to “get even,” so to speak.
But, of course, this has everything to do with helping out the Brewers, Pirates, and Devil Rays, and nothing to do with Mr. Henry’s if-I-can’t-have-A-Rod-no-one-can attitude.
Who’s to say small market teams need help, though? Who’s to say they can’t compete? Just last year, the Florida Marlins rode one of baseball’s lowest payrolls into the World Series, where they knocked off none other than the New York Yankees. What’s more, the defending champs sit atop the NL East as we speak—a stark contrast to 1998, when they followed up their first championship season by selling off their well-paid players and finishing dead last.
And who’s to say parity can be imposed from above? A colleague, Randy Tyler, points out that, in 25 years since the start of ESPN, only 7 teams have won the NBA championship. “Interestingly, unlike in other sports, the NBA’s relatively solid salary cap prevents rich teams from hoarding talent,” he says. Yet the MLB has had 17 champions in the same time span—more than any other sport. Parity may be apparent in the NBA on a game-to-game basis, but its experiment in social engineering has yielded fewer champs than baseball’s reasonably free market.
Still, some say, the MLB can tinker with its product any way it sees fit. And inasmuch as the league created the teams—which is sometimes true, but not always—this is a fair point. But the teams that cry poverty act like they’ve got an immutable right to exist. Some clubs can’t make an honest buck, though. That’s the bottom line. Keeping them afloat through salary caps and revenue sharing only excuses this, while letting them fold would save everyone money—including the wealthy teams forced to support them.
Baseball is a business, after all, and in business the strong survive. This means figuring out what people want and giving it to them. Relying less on taxes to pay for ballparks is a good way to start. As Reason‘s Matt Welch notes: “San Francisco’s glorious Pac Bell Park was the first privately financed stadium to be built since 1962; not coincidentally, it generates the most revenue in baseball. Private owners are far more likely to upgrade facilities, seek creative revenue-generating schemes, and stay put in their host cities.”
Indeed, and it seems self-defeating for teams to appeal to a higher authority—be it Major League Baseball, or a local government—in hopes of enhancing competition. If anything, intervening against the Yankees on behalf of the Red Sox, or against the Red Sox on behalf of the Devil Rays, is as anti-competitive as it gets. It specifically penalizes those who beat out their competition. Where I come from, we call this socialism. We also call it theft.
If Mr. Henry has his way, the Major Leagues will be only as strong as their weakest links. A better option would be to let the weak links meet their fate, and let flourish the baseball economy. At worst, a few teams will fold, and the market will correct itself. The talent pool will be spread out over a smaller number of teams, and this will create a parity all its own.