Baseball owners proposed an 82-game season. The players asked for 114 games, and owners retorted with 50 games. This is called negotiating.
Owners proposed cutting salaries in half, then cutting them again. Players countered with a bunch of middle fingers. This is called bickering.
Owners say they care about the game and the fans. Players say they care more. This is called bull crap.
Voila, you're all caught up on the 2020 baseball season.
It is no longer about the pandemic, and it is not about cash-strapped fans. It's all about who gets the bigger slice of the billions of dollars still at stake in television, digital and merchandise revenues.
Somehow, our baseball lords and heroes have taken an unfortunate situation and stomped all the sympathy out of it.
The looting here is metaphorical. The potential destruction is not.
That's not to say the game is in immediate danger. Baseball has survived gamblers, segregation, nincompoop commissioners, performance-enhancing drugs and Tommy Lasorda. Another labor dispute between players and owners will not ruin the game.
But it could remind fans that their devotion often goes unrequited. And sooner or later, that's going to catch up to the folks who have been getting rich(er) with your entertainment dollars.
And this summer just might be a tipping point in that direction.
Oh, the players and owners will probably come to an understanding. It may even happen before the end of the week. Why? Because even these cutthroats realize what a disaster it would be if the NHL, the NBA and the NFL all find ways to resume playing in the age of the coronavirus while baseball sits this one out.
But baseball has already revealed its true colors, and it looks a lot like legal tender green.
Do you remember a few weeks ago when players were talking about how they were being asked to put their lives at risk to resume playing? Yeah, that argument sounds kind of hollow now that their union has proposed playing even more games because they're being paid pro rata.
And have you ever heard owners talking about their organizations as families? Yeah, it seems quite a few of those family patriarchs _ impressively, not Rays owner Stu Sternberg _ have decided to eliminate allowances for all the players in their minor-league systems.
This isn't naivete talking. Of course, baseball is a business. And, of course, both owners and players have bills and responsibilities. And, yes, it's human nature to look out for you and yours.
But, in a way, that's what I'm talking about.
Owners and players are so caught up in this momentary money crunch, and so distrustful of each other, they don't even see how they appear to their customers. They're not even considering the insulting way they are treating fans who have food-on-the-table problems unrecognizable to millionaires.
This should be a time of celebration for baseball. If they do it right, they could be back in stadiums ahead of any other sport, and we could have live television events besides protests and coronavirus updates.
And considering the regular season is going to be condensed and the postseason is going to be extended, baseball officials also need to be mindful of competition for viewers.
Half the regular season will likely go head-to-head with NHL and NBA playoffs on TV in later July and August, and the postseason will now extend deeper into the NFL season. That means TV ratings will be more important than ever.
So why, in heaven's name, would owners and players want to jumpstart all of this by playing an extended round of liar's poker in June?
A dangerous and contagious virus has already ensured fans will not be taking their seats in baseball stadiums in 2020.
And now a pecuniary and unnecessary feud might convince fans that they don't really need to pay for those seats in 2021, either.
