Believing the Hype is now here: http://ericksonblog.com/blog/category/sports/

New uniforms.  Is there anything so exciting as that?  The prospect that maybe, just maybe, the perfect design will be unveiled.  In the 70’s a big change in the way ball players dressed themselves took place.  In came the era of the double knit.  Polyester replaced flannel, but much more than just material changed.

Many teams took the chance to streamline and reinvent just what a baseball uniform was.  Troublesome things like buttons and belts gave way to pull-over style jerseys and elastic snap waistbands.  Polyester also gave way to bold new colors, exhibited by the prevalence of the baby blue road uni several teams had, and the greens, golds, and blacks of the A’s and Pirates.

The O’s made the switch in ’71 and things get a bit complicated.  So, the home uniform design didn’t change drastically, in true O’s fashion.  The script remained the same, the buttons stayed, the little bit of neck piping stayed.  The biggest change (along with the polyester) came with the new tri-color striping that appeared down the legs, around the arms, and on the elastic waistband.  The caps stayed the same, and the database shows the socks changing to solid orange this year, which they did eventually, but there are photos of the O’s in the polyesters wearing the striped socks, so…take from that whatever you will.  The year is most notable for one of the biggest uniform debacles ever.

The story on the street is that the all orange atrocities came at legend-hero-hall-of-famer Brooks Robinson’s request, as it related to a sports apparel business that he had a stake in.  Fortunately nobody was under the delusion that they looked good and stories range from the O’s having worn them as little as once and as much as a handful of times.

The next big change came for the 1973 year.  The Baltimore script was pulled from the road jerseys in favor of the same Orioles script that was on the home jerseys.  The reasons for this bears some explaining.  Washington D.C. had just recently lost their Senators and so the O’s brass saw the opportunity to brand the team as more of a regional entity.  Many debate whether such an effect ever really took place, but in any event, Baltimore wouldn’t return to the road jerseys for 35 years.

1975 brought a new cap, the tri-color, black back, white front, orange bill cap.  Also introduced was the orange pullover alternate jersey.  A cap with an orange front was around for a scant two years.  This main uniform, however, became the standard all the way up until the 1989 change.  Also of some note, the O’s wore a hybrid 40 years anniversary/world series patch in 1984.

The uniforms of this era are pretty iconic.  For some O’s fans they are the best.  I like them as a throwback, they are dated enough so that they are good identifiers for their time, but not so much that they just look silly (a la the Padres).  It’s nice to have the throwback nights for the team and to have the smiling bird logo availiable for purchase for the fans, but it remains a throwback.  So while the uniform which saw some of the best years in the Orioles’ history has earned a place as a classic, it’s far from timeless, and I am nonetheless happy that it’s been changed.

Uniforms are pretty subjective.  I think most people, sports fans and non-sports fans alike, can agree on a handful of basic generalities when it comes to what is nice, what looks good, and what works when it comes to uniforms.  But those little details, the nitty-gritty things can really draw some deep division lines.

And so the discussion on the recently revamped Orioles uniforms inspires a good bit of healthy discussion amongst fans.  Everyone has a perfect uniform in their head, that dream look that goes woefully unfulfilled.  Indeed, I’ve spent many a worrisome hour thinking “why can’t the team just know what I want and do it?”

My perfect idea is a combination of some older designs and some things pulled from other places.  I think most people have a similar situation, never feeling like any one set was ever absolutely perfect.

So here is a brief uniform history of the Baltimore Orioles.  Oddly enough, though they’ve changed uniforms a good number of times, their basic design has yet in the 54, going on 55, year history of the team to really change drastically.

All the uniform references come from here: http://exhibits.baseballhalloffame.org/dressed_to_the_nines/database.htm
It’s a good database that doesn’t track all the microscopic changes that have occurred, and has a few miscues (like including patches that may have been officially part of the uniform but were never worn, etc.) but as far as a reference and broad strokes go, it is absolutely unmatched.  Also, particularly with the early uniforms, I have no idea if there are little inaccuracies, as my real expertise comes in the later years.  I fully expect that not everything is perfect, however.

On to the inaugural uniforms.  It should be noted that these are the first of the modern Orioles (the team was the relocated St. Louis Browns, creating an odd precedent for teams called the Browns to relocate to Baltimore), there were Orioles teams dating back to the 19th century in Baltimore, but they were minor league equivalents, and their uniforms look nothing like what we have here.

The O seen here is unlike any other O that the O’s have ever used, but this design, namely the black on orange typeface, would be referenced again in the 90’s.  Indeed the road uniform is fairly close to what the road uniform was in 1989-1994, minus the piping, front number, and O formation.  The cap also featured a kind of stick figure of a bird, as opposed to the cartoon bird that would later be developed and is more closely associated with the Orioles of old. The real bird look would be re-institued later in 1989.  This uniform was a one year deal.

The very next year brought a script lettering that would be used nearly every year until 1995.  This is where things start to get interesting.  A real uniform expert might have more info. but it seems that they directly referenced a design that had been used by the Negro League Orioles as early as 1950, as seen here provided by Ebbets Field Flannels, a reliable and accurate source for these sorts of things (you can also see that they O’s of the International League used the familiar script along with the birds on the bat logo that has come to be associated with the St. Louis Cardinals).  This year, in addition to bringing zipper fronts, which are pretty hideous in my opinion, also first featured the cartoon bird, only it’s much more nightmare inducing and angular, rather than the smiling rounded friendly bird used later.

The next year, 1956, brought a script Baltimore to the road jerseys, and 1958 brought front numbers, a uniform element that has remained ever since, and orange bills to the caps.

These uniforms remained unchanged until 1963, when for three years, the only truly different Orioles uniform was worn.  The road jersey went unchanged, same hat, zipper front, all of that.  But the home uniform ditched the script for big black block letters stating plainly, ORIOLES, and the cap took away the little stick bird, and added an orange block B.  The B cap would be gone after one year, but the strange home uni lasted until 1965.  I like it because it’s different, and it’s an interesting footnote in the uniform history, but really, when you think Orioles, you think script.

The 1966 season brought what would become classics for the O’s.  Back was the orange script, but gone was the flourish underneath.  A bit of piping around the neck on the home uni stayed as well.  The road jerseys remained the same but switched to buttons and kept the placket piping.  The socks which had been changed to solid black, were changed back to orange with white and black stripes.  And then there are the caps.  The smiling cartoon bird that would become iconic made its appearance, designed by, I’m told by the same guy who designed Snap, Crackle, and Pop.  The Orioles won their first world series that year and the uniforms went largely unchanged for the rest of the flannel era, besides having a short lived sleeveless alternative. 

With this era also came a bit of notable uniform modification.  Frank Robinson was known to wear his stirrups very high, with a large portion of the white sock underneath showing.  The fad spread.

Jim Bouton wrote in Ball Four “All the Orioles are wearing their socks with high cuts, like Frank Robinson, and no one seems to object.”  He goes on to indicate that the best way to do this is sew in some extra material on the stirrup to get them to stretch higher, which photos have confirmed that Frank did just that.

The uniforms would change along with much of baseball in 1971.

For the absolute pinnacle in Internet Uni Discussion, check out : http://www.uniwatchblog.com/

Also the Baltimore Sun has some nice photo galleries of O’s uniforms: http://www.baltimoresun.com/sports/baseball/bal-uniforms-pg,0,793572.photogallery

There are several Jack Dempsey’s in the history of boxing.  The first was a champion in the late 1800s.  Later there was a second, Bernie Dempsey, who assumed the name Jack as either a way to gain notoriety, revere the former champ, or just sound tougher.  I don’t really know which.  Bernie had a little brother, Harry.  Harry boxed under the name Kid Blackie.

Bernie trained his little brother Harry.  At age eleven, Harry was soaking his face in brine and crewing pine tar gum, all in an effort to toughen up.  Soon after the family settled out west and Harry dropped out of school.

He was a hardscrabble kid coming up in rural America.  He traveled throughout Colorado, Utah, and Nevada by means of hanging on railroad cars to get into barroom fights.  Eventually, he got a manager who would get him fights on a circuit that specialized in fights in hard mining towns, a circuit similar to what his brother Bernie/Jack Dempsey fought in.

In 1914 Bernie fell ill.  Harry, or Kid Blackie, substituted in a fight for his brother.  Saving a measure of confusing, he fought under his brother’s name, Jack Dempsey.  The fight ended in a draw, but the new Jack would go on to knock out six guys in a row.  The name stuck, Kid Blackie was gone, and the new Jack Dempsey was to stay.

Some nine years later he would be sent out of the ring in a moment that would be captured forever in a painting.  He would be the heavyweight champion and would get himself back into the ring and defend and retain his title.

Of course, in the world of sports all things must pass.  Dempsey would eventually lose the title and retire, but he was the pinnacle of sports celebrity at the time, right up there with the likes of Babe Ruth.  He would be in terrible movies and be a successful restaurantuer.  And that’s the brief history of an American sports legend.  It’s a great story, one that has seen numerous revisions with other boxers.

So where did boxing go?

Dempsey info from: http://historytogo.utah.gov/utah_chapters/from_war_to_war/jackdempseylovedfighting.html

What we see here is one of the greatest works of art ever created.  As far as sports related paintings, this one can’t be touched.  It shows the 1923 match up between Jack Dempsey and Luis Firpo.  Dempsey, the reigning champ is the one careening out of the ring.

There would be some controversy with the count, as it is believed Dempsey didn’t make it back in by the requist ten count, but he would later go on to knockout Firpo in the second round.  And so ended one of the most celebrated boxing matches ever.

There’s a romantic aspect to sports history, clearly displayed by this painting, and that romanticism is a big part of why I find sports history so intriguing.  It’s also behind every “good old days” argument regarding sports.  I would argue that one of the most “good old days” prone sports is boxing.  While, obviously, there are still plenty of fans, pay-per-view matches, and a betting industry in Vegas, boxing today can’t even be compared to what it was in the past.  Boxing suffers, I believe, from an over romanticization. 

If I were to get greenlighted to write a sports movie, and I really wanted an Oscar, I’d write a boxing movie.  It would have to be about fighting, that gives an easy opening for inherent conflict.  There’s also a strong metaphorical aspect; you could draw parralells between fighting in the ring and struggling in life, herold the notion of getting knocked down and getting back up, etc.  There’s the training aspect, which fulfills the rising action of the story arc, as well as gives a nice relationship opportunity with the trainer.  Then there’s the opposition, a singular ultimate bad guy other fighter, that gives you an easy villain.  Make the fighter poor and you have a sure fire hit.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to berate the sport, I just don’t think that the reality can match what we’ve come to expect.  There’s a lot to like about the sweet science.  The sport is so relevant, it gets referenced in other sports.

Announcer: And with that touchdown, they really have them reeling.

Announcer 2:  That’s right.  They got them on the ropes, that may have been the knockout punch right there.

See?

So you really have to wonder: if the public consciousness is still so open to boxing, why isn’t boxing still the biggest thing going in sports? 

That’s a thought to chew on for the moment, check back for more history and comment.

Naming a team can be a tough endeavor.  Previous posts here have dealt with the various processes that take place in giving a team an identity.  Some names, however, just don’t seem to work out, as if the name itself dooms the team to failure.  It seems kind of silly, but it isn’t totally without merit, those in the sports world are a superstitious bunch.  The Texans seems to be one such name.

There is a current team, the Houston Texans, who entered the NFL in a recent expansion.  They have struggled in their years of existence, and I can only hope for Houston fans that these current Texans fare better than the Texans of old.

There are several iterations of Dallas Texans and both of them are fairly short histories, the first of which being the NFL Dallas Texans.  The team was the displaced New York Yanks and played for one season, 1952.  The Yanks’ owner had become frustrated with eight years of losing and sold the team back to the league.  It was then bought up by a group of Texas investors.  The assumption was that Texas, with its rich high school and college football pedigree, would be a natural fit for what would hopefully become a successful pro-football franchise.

The team brought its losing ways with it, however, and was terrible.  The team had minimal draw and lost games, providing little reason for Dallas residents to shift interests from the far more attractive college games.  Indeed, things got so bad that the team had to sell itself back to the league with five games remaining, unable to meet payroll demands.

An overview of the team’s history can be found here: http://www.profootballhof.com/history/decades/1950s/dallas_texans.jsp

The team itself had better days ahead of it, however, as they were sold to Baltimore.  After a rough couple of seasons the team developed into a powerhouse, essential to eventual success of the NFL.

1960 brought two brands of pro-football back to Dallas yet again, the NFL’s Dallas Cowboys, and the AFL’s Dallas Texans.  Why the creator of the AFL, Lamar Hunt, decided to name his team after a team that failed in every way imaginable, I do not know.  But, the world of professional football was very different in 1960 than it had been in 1952.  Television was making a big difference, and perhaps this time around there was room for more football in football crazy Texas.

Interestingly enough, during the years that the Texans were in Dallas, they were much better than the Cowboys.  In their inaugural year, the Cowboys failed to win a game (tying was the best they could muster), while the Texas went 8-6.  The Cowboys couldn’t even post a winning season until 1966, while their AFL compatriots continued to improve, winning the championship in 1962, their last year of existence.  The Cowboys were in the much better supported NFL, though, and were likely more protected even with their losing.

Despite being a key founding team in the AFL and winners at that, the Texans of new faced the same problem the Texans of old faced, attendance.  Their championship year saw them pull an average of only 22,118 spectators.  Hunt decided they could do better elsewhere and the team was moved to Kansas City.  The nickname Texans was changed to Chiefs, and the uniforms remained unchanged, save a new logo on the helmets.  Initially the change was a not kind to the teams performance, but the franchise would get good again, famously playing, and losing to, Green Bay in Super Bowl I.  They would return to beat Minnesota in Super Bowl IV, the last before the AFL disappeared forever.

And when everything else moved on, with that switch to the Chiefs in 1963, the AFL Dallas Texans (though infinitely better) joined the NFL Dallas Texas in that disembodied limbo of stats and discontinued uniforms.  The Texan nickname has new life now in Houston (who incidentally have a limbo team of their own, the Houston Oilers who would later become the TennesseeTitans), so for their sake, hopefully they will not join their fellow Texans in obscurity.  But again, the world of pro-football is a very different place today than it was before.

AFL info from Remember the AFL

Recently, I wrote on the interesting situation surrounding the merger of the AFL and the NFL, which gave us, of course, the modern NFL as we know it.  My primary source for all this was the great and extremely detailed and informative book Remember the AFL by Dave Steidel.  Well, I’ve had the opportunity to communicate with Dave, and he has generously fielded a few specific questions.  So here is some additional information from the expert:

Q: In watching today’s NFL, what reminds you of the AFL?

A: The names on jerseys, the two point conversion, side line reporters, the game clock being the official time were all started in the AFL.  Also in the beginning the AFL offenses were very creative and wide open.  Some people suggest that the West Coast offense started in the AFL with San Diego’s Sid Gillman in the early sixties.  The type of game played by the NFL today is more like the old AFL then the old NFL.

Q: Could a rival league ever successfully challenge the NFL again?

A: The USFL, WFL, and XFL have all come and gone since the AFL merged with the NFL. And while Arena football is huge in many parts of the country it is a different kind of game.  With all the media coverage and money available to NFL players today I would find it hard to believe that another league in direct competition (Sept.-Jan) with the NFL (as the AFL was) could survive.

Q: What did the AFL do right?

A: As the NFL was experiencing their eighth straight year of rising attendance and TV viewing the AFL seemed to pick the perfect time in sports history to begin.  Most NFL teams blacked out their home games on local TV so those who could not get to or afford tickets tuned in to watch the only TV alternative – AFL games. 

The AFL offered an alternative as well to NFL fans who watched their team in the early afternoon by employing double header games.  After an early game on the east coast they offered a second game, usually from Houston, Denver, or California.  The NFL did not offer this  second game option so fans wanting to extend their football Sunday could catch a look at the new league. 

The AFL also used revenue sharing that allowed every team to be on a level playing field financially.   Then there was the fact that the AFL was color blind.  Teams actively recruited minority players from small southern colleges like North Texas State, Tennessee State, Prairie View, Grambling and others.  The NFL at the time seemed to operate on a quota system when it came to minority players so the AFL became known as a league of opportunity for all players; young, old, and from all racial backgrounds. 

Many college players opted for the AFL as well because the tight fisted NFL leadership expected young players to pay their dues on the bench before given the opportunity to break into the starting lineup.  With the AFL there was a chance to play right away and as a result young players not only signed on with the AFL but also developed more quickly. 

Q: What do you think has become of the AFL’s legacy? Should it be acknowledged more?

A: Many veteran AFL players and fans felt from the beginning of the merger that the AFL should have been able to keep their identity.  But the NFL had a different idea.  Sadly the merger became more of an absorption than a partnership.  But perhaps the greatest indignity the league has suffered is the lack of recognition the Pro Football Hall-of-Fame has given AFL players. 

Outstanding players like Johnny Robinson, Abner Haynes, Jerry Mays, Dave Grayson, Otis Taylor, Paul Lowe and others have been largely ignored by the selection committee – many of whom never saw an AFL game!  I truly hope that during the 2009 season the NFL will honor the 50th anniversary of the beginning of the AFL by bringing to light the many accomplishments and innovative ideas the AFL brought to professional football. 

Perhaps then the AFL players who carved its history will be given their long overdue and much deserved recognition, for it is truly the players who built the AFL’s legacy.  For more information about the AFL, its legacy and players log on to: remembertheafl.com.
 
Q: How did the merger affect the business of professional football?

A: The main reason for the merger was that the leagues were in direct competition for the same players.  As a result, player salaries were rising higher than any team imagined.  When the New York Giants signed kicker Pete Gogolak away from Buffalo after the 1965 season, breaking an unwritten agreement to not sign players from the other league, the AFL retaliated by vigorously recruiting NFL players who were within a year or two of their contract expiring.  This also set off a bidding war for players coming out of college. 

Jets owner Sonny Weblin then sent a shock wave throughout the sports world by signing Alabama quarterback Joe Namath to an unprecedented $400,000. contract.  Nearly four times the average.  Seeing what lied ahead prompted the NFL to offer a piece agreement to the AFL in the way of a merger. 

With the merger in 1966 both leagues would now have a common draft instead of each league holding their own.  The merger also called for a season ending AFL vs. NFL Championship game to be played starting at the end of the 1966 season.  This game became known as the Super Bowl and has now become the largest one day sporting event in the world.

So there you have it.  I have to say that I agree with Mr. Steidel on a number of counts, most notably the need for the NFL to better acknowledge the AFL.  The NFL to this day doesn’t seem to like to admit that it was not wrought out of perfection from the first instance.  A big reason why I decided to look into the AFL in the first place was the lack of overt information out there today.  The fact of the matter is, the AFL’s creation and involvement was crucial in shaping the modern NFL*, so a little nod here and there shouldn’t be too much of an imposition.

In any event, the book features season by season recaps for every team during the league’s decade of existence, so for anyone looking for the authority, that’s the place to go.

*Earlier typo corrected

In the ring of honor at the Baltimore Ravens stadium, are the names of all hall of fame Baltimore Colts.  Having never played in Indianapolis or for the Ravens franchise, they are in team limbo, and belong to no one but the fans who loved them.

After 1954, firmly rooted in Baltimore, the Colts began their ascent toward greatness.  The Baltimore Colts got good the way any team does.  They had some smart drafting, some good trades, and a measure of luck.  The team had a couple of solid holdovers from the Dallas Texans days, including future hall of famers Art Donovan and Gino Marchetti.  In 1956 Lenny Moore, another future hall of famer, was drafted in the first round.  A solid team was being built, but clearly the greatest move of all was acquiring Johnny Unitas.

Unitas had been cut by his native Pittsburgh after being picked in the ninth round, and was relegated to playing semi-pro ball before going to a tryout for the Baltimore Colts in 1956.  He was signed, and played in the fourth game of the season when the starter went down.  He was terrible.

Unitas got better, however, and as he settled down over his rookie season and showed great promise.  The team improved as well and in 1958 they went to the championship.  The win against the Giants that sent the NFL on a new and glorious path to prominence, made Baltimore winners for the first time.  The Colts then went on to be a powerhouse throughout the following decade, winning it all again in 1959, 1968, and 1970, with championship appearances in 1964 and 1969.  In that era, even when the team was not in a championship, they were the picture of a well-run franchise and a threat to anyone in the league.

The team was traded by Carroll Rosenbloom to Bob Irsay in 1972 and the team floundered in the 70s.  Unitas retired in ’73, and though they got some solid play from Bert Jones at QB and made the playoffs a few times, the team saw no more championships.  The team took a nose dive in 1978 and never recovered.  John Elway famously balked at the drafting to Baltimore in 1983 and was sent to the Broncos where he had a hall of fame career.  Irsay wanted new facilities, but the team was losing and support was waning, so the city said no and Irsay moved the team to Indianapolis and the story of the Baltimore Colts was over.

The Indianapolis Colts struggled for a number of years in their new environment and new identity, but have found a great deal of success in recent years, and have been writing their own story of an era wholly apart from those Baltimore days.  So looking back now there is this free floating entity of a team that once was.  It’s a team that Baltimore residents born after the move have a strange almost-connection with.  It’s like trying to remember someone else’s memories as if they were yours.  You know it should be part of your consciousness, but it just isn’t there.  And so there are the records, the film clips, the books, the pictures, and the artifacts left over to remind everyone of something great that once was, is not anymore, but will never go away.

Note: A great source for Colts history in brief can be found in Lou Sahadi’s One Sunday in December

What is a team in limbo?  When a team goes defunct, either through moving or folding entirely, the former team is gone for all intents and purposes.  But when considering the historical value of a defunct team, there is a whole story there.  There are front office decisions for a team that doesn’t exist any more, there are records set and statistics recorded for a nonexistent entity, there are photos of a team that doesn’t play anymore.  It’s in this way that a team becomes a limbo team; a team that exists in memories and stats, but not in the present day. 

I’ll start this off by talking about a limbo team close to my own heart, the Baltimore Colts.  The brand of limbo team they represent is the relocated franchise.  When a franchise relocates, sometimes they change their team name and logos, thus forging a separate identity, and sometimes they don’t.  When the Baltimore Colts were moved to Indianapolis in 1984, they kept the team name, colors, logos, and everything else associated with the franchise. 

And so the Baltimore Colts are like a story book, with a beginning, a climax, and an ending, true for any limbo team that is forging no new ground. 

The move to Indy profoundly hurt a lot of the rabid fans in Baltimore.  It should be noted, however, that Baltimore has seen plenty of displaced teams come to town.  Indeed, in the earlier days of professional football, teams moved around all the time.  A long line of failed teams landed in Baltimore in 1947 and was named the Colts, as per the results of a fan contest.  The team was terrible, wore green and silver uniforms(!), and folded after the 1950 season.

The team was beloved by its hometown fans, however, as Baltimore had no other major sports team at the time.  Baltimore was a blue collar city with an inferiority complex due to its proximity to the more glamorous burgs of Washington D.C. and Philadelphia, a mentality, it could be argued, that the city still holds today.  Certainly the rats aren’t getting any smaller.  In any event, attendance was high and the team had a lot of support, including its own marching band, one of the only in the league, that paid its own way on road trips.

The first Colts incarnation folded, but in 1953, Baltimore Football returned when Carroll Rosenbloom bought the failed Dallas Texans, fulfilling the promise of Commissioner Bert Bell, that Baltimore would get a team.  Everything returned, the fans, the marching band, and the losing.

That’s the begining of the story, the good part was yet to come.

Note: Logo and helmet from: http://chriscreamer.com/index.php

Curt Flood reintroduced the argument for free-agency to baseball, but was ultimately denied.  Two years later, in 1974, Catfish Hunter would become the first free-agent due to a unique situation and a contract dispute.  Hunter was prolific with the Oakland A’s, but owner Charlie Finley failed to make a payment.  Hunter’s contract was deemed void and with no reserve clause to keep him, he was the first major league ball player on the open market, free to go wherever he pleased.

A bidding war ensued, reaching offers as high as five years, $4.5 million.  Hunter took a deal with the Yankees, five years at $3.5 million with incentives.  The nightmare scenario that Bouton talked about in Ball Four had happened, players knew how much they were worth.  If a great pitcher could get that money, then other great pitchers should be getting it.  And if that was the case then great position players and hitters should make comparable amounts, if not more for their everyday play.  And if that was to be the going rate for great players, then certainly the pay gap between great players and good players should be smaller.  But perhaps the greatest new feature going on here was the fact that this was a multi-year deal.  That meant guaranteed money, that meant stability and wealth that ball players had never experienced and were quick to welcome.

The next year, an arbitrator ruled that the reserve clause was only binding for one year.  Owners could no longer string along their players year to year, and at the end of their contracts, players could put themselves on the market.  Player compensation skyrocketed.  But all was not well.

An assertion that Richard Bradley makes in The Greatest Game is that the post free-agency years created a void between the players and the fans and media.  Players found how valuable they were on the open market, owners couldn’t take advantage of them, and this was great for the players and their futures.  But like anything, a whole host of new problems previously not seen came about.

There was suddenly the concept of a player being overpaid.  And there is no greater sense of resentment than seeing someone who makes so much money fail at their job.  Add in the fact that fans knew that players for their team could excuse themselves whenever they felt like it, and you have a very unfulfilled group of people watching sports.  Fans now wanted production immediately.  Bradley writes “If fans were going to be digging deeper into their pockets to walk through the turnstiles, an inevitable consequence of free agency, then they wanted more bang for their bucks.  The sport was becoming less sporting, all about winning and less about fun.”

The resentment extended to the press as well.  Before, sportswriters got to know players because they were there year after year, they were working stiffs just like everyone else.  So writers wrote favorably about them, rolled over their transgressions and extolled the virtues of the sports, which fans liked to read, so everyone was happy.  But after free-agency players were more insulated from the media with more at stake for them, and fans were more critical, so the media represented that.

And then there was the new breed of player.  Hard work was the primary way of sticking around on a baseball team before, but now a players only really needed one marketable skill.  If you could hit homeruns, you were pretty much set.  Then came the idea of playing for the contract year, where players found that it was better to focus on individual stats to pump up their value rather than team goals.

And that’s the story of the development of free-agency, a large part of the baseball business.  It finishes off like a horror tale, where we expect everything to get worse and worse.  Obviously in the 34 years since free-agency, sports have done fine.  Better than ever some might argue.  And even with a change in overall attitude, there have been plenty of hard working players, and plenty of amazing games and moments.  Not everything went directly out the window, so it doesn’t really help much to get to alarmist over everything.

As with everything the situation has a lot of sides to it.  Contracts go up every year but no longer do owners hold them back.  The Sports media some days seems more like a collective gossip rag but at least we get more truth rather than have everything be sugar coated.  And there are players who selfishly milk free agency, and while they’ll get their money, fans will stamp out the love for them swiftly.  The productive hard worker in sports will always be adulated, and if the home team doesn’t compete in free agency to keep that player, then fans will turn their ire to the ownership.

Such is the life of a fan.  I don’t want the players paid too much, but I don’t want the owners pocketing too much either.  I want the media to take to the guys I don’t like, and I want them to hold up the guys I do.  So fans might be getting priced out of sports, but they can’t be gotten rid of that easily.