DETROIT _ Can I play devil's advocate here? Would it really be that bad if there was no Major League Baseball this summer?
Hear me out.
I've read the passionate pleas begging owners and players to quit haggling over money, find a middle ground and save the 2020 baseball season. And in my heart, I am with them. To have this fight now, with all that's going on in this sad world today, is selfish, soulless and self-defeating.
And yet the fight is indeed on, the two sides remain stalemated and hostile. After each side presented untenable initial offers, the owners on Monday offered three options:
_ An 82-game schedule in which players would get $1.03 billion in salaries and $200 million more in playoff money.
_ A 76-game schedule in which players would get $989 million in salaries, $443 million in playoff shares and draft-pick compensation would be removed from free-agent signings.
_ A 48-game schedule in which players got $1.03 billion in salaries with no playoff shares.
Based on multiple reports, the players collectively do not view this is a workable concession. You can see where this is headed. There is no official drop-dead date, but time is running short. Think of it like this: If a season were to start on July 6, there would be 87 days on the calendar to the end of September. So, an 82-game schedule could be squeezed in.
Things aren't trending in that direction. It's looking more and more like the the owners will push through a 48-game schedule, which commissioner Rob Manfred can do unilaterally, without consent from the players' association.
I know the consensus opinion is that any baseball is better than no baseball. But is it, really?
We're talking about a six-week season, essentially the length of spring training, with a regional schedule. The Tigers would basically play against teams from the American League and National League Central Division.
There would be no fans. Media _ print, digital and broadcast _ won't have face-to-face access to players or coaches. Who knows if reporters will even be allowed in the stadiums? Interviews likely will be conducted via video conferencing.
Players, already embittered by the failed negotiations, will be told to sit apart from one another in the dugout and clubhouse (good luck with that). They will be encouraged not to shake or slap hands, spit seeds or dip. Players and coaches will be asked to keep their distance from each other. Coaches, especially those like Ron Gardenhire, who is 62 and considered at high-risk in terms of the coronavirus, will have limits in terms of how they interact with players. Hitting fungoes, for example, might be frowned upon. Can you imagine a world where coaches can't hit ground balls to infielders during batting practice?
Teams will likely carry 28 players on an active roster and have another 22 signed to a taxi squad _ though nobody knows where those players would be housed or how they would stay game-ready. With a rushed second spring training, pitchers aren't likely to be fully stretched out, which will lend even more of a spring-training feel to the games _ teams using five or six pitchers per game.
What's the point? A baseball season is famously a marathon, not a sprint. The Washington Nationals were 19-31 after 50 games last season. They likely wouldn't have made the playoffs in this scenario, and yet they ended up champions in 2019.
So after 48 games, five teams from each league advance to the postseason, the owners get to recoup close to $800 million in media revenue and a champion eventually is crowned. Would you even throw a parade? You don't have to put an asterisk by it, but come on. The 2020 World Series champion will forever be footnoted, discounted, much more so than the Dodgers were for their split-season championship win in 1981.
So, again, why bother? Why not let 2020 stand as the season killed by the coronavirus? Instead of forcing a severely truncated and gimmicky season on an already dispirited fan base, why not stay at the bargaining table and hammer out a framework for a new collective bargaining agreement.
The current agreement expires after the 2021 season, but there is no reason to wait another year. The divide between the owners and players is more likely to grow then recede, especially if they are forced to play the 48-game set.
Stay at the table and work out an equitable deferment plan for the 2020 salaries. Give players a full year of service time. Allow the free agent contracts signed for 2020 to roll-over to 2021. Revise the antiquated service-time rules. Take away draft compensation and rejuvenate the free-agent market. Formulate a draft lottery to discourage teams from tanking. Along those lines, expand the playoffs to seven teams. Implement the universal designated-hitter rule. Heck, add the robot umpires if you want.
But use this time to create more than just an armistice. Create a platform for positive, mutually accepted change so that when baseball returns in 2021, it does so with a new spirit, a new direction, a new enthusiasm and no more labor divisiveness.
It's not going to go down like that. Going essentially dark for 18 months would be devastating, and the owners won't let that happen. But baseball, the game of baseball, always has been able to heal itself and I think it could endure a missed season.
It may take a couple of years to regain its footing _ which may be the case even with a farcical 48-game season _ but baseball would prevail again.
Is this all too simplistic and naive? Maybe. Probably. But we're picking between poisons, here. I don't see much value or allure in a six-week, glorified spring training-type season, either.
