I've been wanting to watch the movie Moneyball for a while, but I haven't really had time. Yesterday I had a headache that just wouldn't go away, so I spent the evening on the couch watching the movie. It reminded me of why I both love and hate the game of baseball.
For those of you who are not fans of baseball, I apologize for this post, but as baseball, specifically Phillies baseball, is one of my loves, you are stuck with this post. I hope it will have a few redeeming thoughts for those who do not enjoy baseball as much as I do.
Baseball is heartbreaking. Watching your team lose season after season is killer, but every February when the pitchers and catchers report your heart finds a way to hope again. Watching the same teams win year after year, knowing your team has no chance because their budget is too small is awful, but one win over a big budget team still feels so good. There are so many factors that go into having a winning team and money doesn't hurt, but a general manager who knows the game inside and out, a manager who knows how to get the most out of his players, fans that keep coming to the games and packing out the seats, all these factors go into having a winning team. Baseball may be heartbreaking, but I love it just the same.
Moneyball refers more than once to baseball as a child's game, and it is. It's a game that allows us to feel that childlike sense of wonder and hope for a few hours. For a lucky few, it's a child's game that they can continue to play as adults. And, we compensate them for it tremendously. Those who excel at the game receive huge contracts and millions of dollars for the privilege of playing a child's game. One of the reasons I have a love-hate relationship with baseball is the exorbitant amount of money that is tied into this child's game. Hundred's of millions of dollars are paid by teams to the best players each year, and yet, our teachers, social workers, city and state employees, and so many other people who keep our society running work in "adult" jobs with high stress for next to no money. Somehow this just doesn't seem right. How can we pay millions of dollars to men who should consider themselves lucky that we allow them to do what they love?
Now, I'm not saying that these players don't deserve to be compensated well for the days they spend away from their families and the uncertainty of their jobs. They can be traded without notice, sent back to the minors, or not picked up by a team at all, and that can be incredibly stressful. The players who are most likely to face these stressful changes in their jobs, however, are not the ones who are paid the most money. Those players make a couple hundred grand a year, not millions. There's such a huge gap between the players who bring home big bucks and the support players who are truly playing because they love the game. I just think there ought to be a salary cap in baseball. A salary cap would make the game about the game and not (as much) about the money. A salary cap would allow teams to be more competitive. A salary cap would allow more fans to feel the hope of spring training and take the game back to even more of a child's game for all of us.
So, where does all this fit in with my original question about 12.5 million dollars? At the end of Moneyball, Billy Beane is offer 12 million dollars to be the general manager of the Red Sox. After the movie, M and I started discussing what we'd do with 12 million dollars, and I realized that I would not be particularly creative. I pay off a few loans, buy a car (something that gets top gas mileage), give a bunch away, and invest the rest. M said he'd replace our yard. I wouldn't quit my job. I wouldn't buy a bigger or better house. I'd use the money to be generous, but mostly it would just be nice to not have to think about how we'd pay for something when we needed it.
So, what would you do with 12 million dollars? And... feel free to comment on my thoughts about a baseball salary cap, too!
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