cheeses_h_rice
08-20-2002, 09:04 AM
:moron
It gives me ample, I mean NO, pleasure, having to report the following...by the way, like my dig at the empty blue seats?
http://www.suntimes.com/output/mariotti/cst-spt-jay20.html
Strike may be Sox' death knell
August 20, 2002
BY JAY MARIOTTI SUN-TIMES COLUMNIST
See the empty blue seats, the short hot-dog lines, the mere trickle of activity in the neighborhood. Notice the scarcity of proven arms, the albatross contract of a Pouting Thomas, the problem spots in the lineup. Feel an emptiness, an apathy, a grim sense that the White Sox no longer matter much.
And tell me: How would this franchise survive another work stoppage?
The 1994 baseball strike reduced the Sox from a hot ticket to a cold, wet noodle. A strike next week ultimately might kill them altogether. Long-term viability isn't an issue for the Cubs, who are entrenched like never before as Chicago's No. 1 team and will weather any labor storm as long as ivy grows and beer flows at beautiful Wrigley Field. But a much shakier, gloomier future would face the Sox, who once again rank in the bottom third of big-league attendance and have wasted two glorious windows of opportunity--good, young ballclubs in the early '90s and in 2000--to become an underachieving, mediocre, lifeless blob.
I almost believe chairman Jerry Reinsdorf when he claims he doesn't want another strike, contrary to his hawkish stance of eight years ago. Perhaps even he realizes his franchise would be an endangered species should the sport grind to another bitter halt. Few clubs took a bigger popularity hit than the Sox following the 1994-95 labor impasse. With Reinsdorf front and center as one of the hard-line owners, fans were mortified when a first-place, high- interest team was lost amid the strike ashes. Here was that special season Soxdom had lusted for, capable of producing the impossible dream of a Chicago World Series. Exciting players, coupled with a new ballpark in an old-fashioned sports town, suddenly gave the Sox a larger profile and bigger gate figures than the Cubs. The South Side had it going on.
Only to have it turned off so rudely on Aug. 12, 1994. The Sox haven't been the same since, slowing to a crawl on local radar screens, and if they are subjected to another season-ending crusher by Bud Selig and Donald Fehr, it's fair to wonder if a smallish base of Sox fans will grow so disgusted that they'll fade away. Even if Reinsdorf isn't centrally involved in these negotiations, they'll still blame him, just as they have for the ghastly upper deck, the absence of nightlife development in Bridgeport, the lack of foresight in not pushing for a stadium site in the South Loop and a White Flag trade that doesn't look so clever after all. Another work stoppage might burn down the house forever, which probably explains why Reinsdorf was so quick to discount a Los Angeles Times report--authored by respected baseball writer Ross Newhan--that said he was playing his usual role as Selig's behind-the-scenes power broker.
"I think Jerry was so vilified in 1994 that he has made a conscious effort to stay out of it this time,'' said Dennis Gilbert, the former agent who serves as Reinsdorf's adviser and occasional mouthpiece. "He has no desire for any kind of work stoppage. He wants a settlement.''
Without one in the next 10 days, the Sox eventually might be looking at the ugliest C-word in sports. Contraction is the exclusive baggage of two franchises right now, including the feel-good Minnesota Twins, who have defied Selig and shamed the Sox with a sensational run currently on display at Comiskey Park. But a strike could lead to the placing of more teams on death row. The Sox wouldn't be next on the candidates list, not with local broadcast revenues estimated at $30.1 million last season, ranking sixth in the majors. But they wouldn't be far down the line, either.
A strike would turn Comiskey into a morgue in 2003 (or beyond), with an already modest season-ticket base possibly shrinking to 5,000. Fewer fans and less revenue mean a punier payroll, making it tough to re-sign Magglio Ordonez, Paul Konerko and Mark Buehrle--particularly if the Sox are stuck paying almost $40 million to dazed-and-confused Frank Thomas through 2006. No standout players mean a losing product and zero interest. Comiskey would be a big white elephant, with Reinsdorf the last one left to turn out the lights. He loves baseball too much to sell the Sox, but might contraction be up his alley? That way, no one else would get his team. Oh, and he would benefit from a larger windfall than he would selling the Sox, just as Twins owner Carl Pohlad is far better off financially if his team is contracted.
The triumph of the division-champion Twins--what the heck, just give it to them--only makes the Sox' plight more painful. There is no purpose in the home dugout, just a bundle of questions about Thomas' future, Jerry Manuel's diminishing energy level, Ken Williams' incompetence, another infusion of kids and where a couple of starting pitchers can be found without money to spend. In the visitors' dugout, the Twins are Exhibit A in how to do baseball business the right way. Even as Selig downgrades and dismisses them as "an aberration,'' which reminds me of the old-lady owner of the Cleveland Indians in "Major League,'' they have built a contender from within. Most of their core players, including MVP candidate and noted Barry Bonds-robber Torii Hunter, are products of an excellent farm system. Funny how low-budget charmers like the Twins and Oakland A's keep popping up every summer, proving that a keen eye for talent works in small markets as well as large markets.
"He said we couldn't compete,'' Hunter said of Bud Light. "We made him eat his words on that.''
Alas, the clock is ticking on the Twins' future. Their last day on earth could be a week from Friday. The political climate in Minnesota never has warmed to building new stadiums for rich sports owners, which should be viewed as a virtue, not a curse. But without a new ballpark to replace the baseball-quirky Metrodome, Selig says baseball is doomed in the Twin Cities. "I have a son younger than the Metrodome,'' said Jesse Ventura, the outgoing Governor Body. "There are still trees outside the stadium small enough to have tape around them. If Bud Selig wants a new stadium, he can build it himself.''
No chance. He won't because taxpayers built Miller Park in Milwaukee. He won't because taxpayers built Comiskey Park for Reinsdorf. He won't because greed has overtaken the game, with both sides guilty as charged.
"It would suck to have our season stopped by a strike,'' said Denny Hocking, the Twins' player representative. "But this team understands that we will benefit one way or the other. If we have to put this year on hold for your personal agenda, then so be it. We would be better off later in our careers.''
All of which makes Aug. 30 look increasingly bleak. For some teams, it represents doomsday. Who ever thought one of them might be the Chicago White Sox?
It gives me ample, I mean NO, pleasure, having to report the following...by the way, like my dig at the empty blue seats?
http://www.suntimes.com/output/mariotti/cst-spt-jay20.html
Strike may be Sox' death knell
August 20, 2002
BY JAY MARIOTTI SUN-TIMES COLUMNIST
See the empty blue seats, the short hot-dog lines, the mere trickle of activity in the neighborhood. Notice the scarcity of proven arms, the albatross contract of a Pouting Thomas, the problem spots in the lineup. Feel an emptiness, an apathy, a grim sense that the White Sox no longer matter much.
And tell me: How would this franchise survive another work stoppage?
The 1994 baseball strike reduced the Sox from a hot ticket to a cold, wet noodle. A strike next week ultimately might kill them altogether. Long-term viability isn't an issue for the Cubs, who are entrenched like never before as Chicago's No. 1 team and will weather any labor storm as long as ivy grows and beer flows at beautiful Wrigley Field. But a much shakier, gloomier future would face the Sox, who once again rank in the bottom third of big-league attendance and have wasted two glorious windows of opportunity--good, young ballclubs in the early '90s and in 2000--to become an underachieving, mediocre, lifeless blob.
I almost believe chairman Jerry Reinsdorf when he claims he doesn't want another strike, contrary to his hawkish stance of eight years ago. Perhaps even he realizes his franchise would be an endangered species should the sport grind to another bitter halt. Few clubs took a bigger popularity hit than the Sox following the 1994-95 labor impasse. With Reinsdorf front and center as one of the hard-line owners, fans were mortified when a first-place, high- interest team was lost amid the strike ashes. Here was that special season Soxdom had lusted for, capable of producing the impossible dream of a Chicago World Series. Exciting players, coupled with a new ballpark in an old-fashioned sports town, suddenly gave the Sox a larger profile and bigger gate figures than the Cubs. The South Side had it going on.
Only to have it turned off so rudely on Aug. 12, 1994. The Sox haven't been the same since, slowing to a crawl on local radar screens, and if they are subjected to another season-ending crusher by Bud Selig and Donald Fehr, it's fair to wonder if a smallish base of Sox fans will grow so disgusted that they'll fade away. Even if Reinsdorf isn't centrally involved in these negotiations, they'll still blame him, just as they have for the ghastly upper deck, the absence of nightlife development in Bridgeport, the lack of foresight in not pushing for a stadium site in the South Loop and a White Flag trade that doesn't look so clever after all. Another work stoppage might burn down the house forever, which probably explains why Reinsdorf was so quick to discount a Los Angeles Times report--authored by respected baseball writer Ross Newhan--that said he was playing his usual role as Selig's behind-the-scenes power broker.
"I think Jerry was so vilified in 1994 that he has made a conscious effort to stay out of it this time,'' said Dennis Gilbert, the former agent who serves as Reinsdorf's adviser and occasional mouthpiece. "He has no desire for any kind of work stoppage. He wants a settlement.''
Without one in the next 10 days, the Sox eventually might be looking at the ugliest C-word in sports. Contraction is the exclusive baggage of two franchises right now, including the feel-good Minnesota Twins, who have defied Selig and shamed the Sox with a sensational run currently on display at Comiskey Park. But a strike could lead to the placing of more teams on death row. The Sox wouldn't be next on the candidates list, not with local broadcast revenues estimated at $30.1 million last season, ranking sixth in the majors. But they wouldn't be far down the line, either.
A strike would turn Comiskey into a morgue in 2003 (or beyond), with an already modest season-ticket base possibly shrinking to 5,000. Fewer fans and less revenue mean a punier payroll, making it tough to re-sign Magglio Ordonez, Paul Konerko and Mark Buehrle--particularly if the Sox are stuck paying almost $40 million to dazed-and-confused Frank Thomas through 2006. No standout players mean a losing product and zero interest. Comiskey would be a big white elephant, with Reinsdorf the last one left to turn out the lights. He loves baseball too much to sell the Sox, but might contraction be up his alley? That way, no one else would get his team. Oh, and he would benefit from a larger windfall than he would selling the Sox, just as Twins owner Carl Pohlad is far better off financially if his team is contracted.
The triumph of the division-champion Twins--what the heck, just give it to them--only makes the Sox' plight more painful. There is no purpose in the home dugout, just a bundle of questions about Thomas' future, Jerry Manuel's diminishing energy level, Ken Williams' incompetence, another infusion of kids and where a couple of starting pitchers can be found without money to spend. In the visitors' dugout, the Twins are Exhibit A in how to do baseball business the right way. Even as Selig downgrades and dismisses them as "an aberration,'' which reminds me of the old-lady owner of the Cleveland Indians in "Major League,'' they have built a contender from within. Most of their core players, including MVP candidate and noted Barry Bonds-robber Torii Hunter, are products of an excellent farm system. Funny how low-budget charmers like the Twins and Oakland A's keep popping up every summer, proving that a keen eye for talent works in small markets as well as large markets.
"He said we couldn't compete,'' Hunter said of Bud Light. "We made him eat his words on that.''
Alas, the clock is ticking on the Twins' future. Their last day on earth could be a week from Friday. The political climate in Minnesota never has warmed to building new stadiums for rich sports owners, which should be viewed as a virtue, not a curse. But without a new ballpark to replace the baseball-quirky Metrodome, Selig says baseball is doomed in the Twin Cities. "I have a son younger than the Metrodome,'' said Jesse Ventura, the outgoing Governor Body. "There are still trees outside the stadium small enough to have tape around them. If Bud Selig wants a new stadium, he can build it himself.''
No chance. He won't because taxpayers built Miller Park in Milwaukee. He won't because taxpayers built Comiskey Park for Reinsdorf. He won't because greed has overtaken the game, with both sides guilty as charged.
"It would suck to have our season stopped by a strike,'' said Denny Hocking, the Twins' player representative. "But this team understands that we will benefit one way or the other. If we have to put this year on hold for your personal agenda, then so be it. We would be better off later in our careers.''
All of which makes Aug. 30 look increasingly bleak. For some teams, it represents doomsday. Who ever thought one of them might be the Chicago White Sox?