FREE ESSAY ON AMERICA'S FALLEN PASTIMEHOW BASEBALL PLAYERS HAVE DAMAGED A NATIONAL INSTITUTION

AMERICA'S FALLEN PASTIMEHOW BASEBALL PLAYERS HAVE DAMAGED A NATIONAL INSTITUTION

America's Fallen Pastime
How Baseball Players Have Damaged a National Institution
Baseball fans are easy to please. Give them a warm summer day, a cold drink, and their
favorite team in the thick of the pennant race and they feel like kings. 
Watch them second guess the manager as he pulls the team's ace pitcher in favor of the
young fireballer. Listen to them cheer as he strikes out the opponents' slugger with the
bases loaded, securing the win. Watch them do it all over again the very next day.
Listen to the debates rage.
Who is the best player of all time? Ty Cobb? Babe Ruth? Ted Williams? Mickey Mantle? Ken
Griffey Jr.? 
Should the designated hitter be abolished?
Should Pete Rose be in the Hall of Fame? 
Ask them for their favorite baseball moment of the past and prepare to have your ear
talked off. 
Older fans might choose Bobby Thompson's "Shot Heard Round the World", which captured the
1951 National League pennant for the New York Giants over the Brooklyn Dodgers, or Willie
Mays' over-the-shoulder, back-to-the-plate catch to rob Cleveland's Vic Wertz of an
extra-base hit in the 1954 World Series. 
Somewhat younger fans might take Carlton Fisk's frantic waving as his game-winning homer
in Game 6 of the 1975 World Series clanged off of Fenway Park's left field foul pole or
the dominance of Johnny Bench, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez and the rest of the Big Red Machine
during the mid-1970s.
The youngest might call up Baltimore shortstop Cal Ripken Jr's victory lap around Camden
Yards after eclipsing Lou Gehrig's seemingly unbreakable consecutive games streak or the
excitement of St. Louis' Mark McGwire and the Chicago Cubs' Sammy Sosa as they
relentlessly pursued Roger Maris' single season home run record. 
Take baseball at its simplest, its purist, and it can be almost religious.
Baseball fans only ask for one thing in return. As Braves fan William Correa pleads, "I
know baseball has a lot of problems ... but don't bother the fans with the business
stuff."1 
Yet those involved in the sport seem to have tried unrelentingly to sap the fun out of
the game in recent years by accentuating its business aspects. Through work stoppages,
contract disputes, and boorish behavior, baseball's powerful leaders have managed to take
our national pastime and drag it through the mud. Baseball has gone from being a kid's
game, one played on sandlots and backyards, into being a cold, heartless business played
out in board rooms and courthouses.
Baseball has become a business. The roots of this unwanted transformation all trace back
to those men who made it the nearly holy sport it was years ago: the players.
Part of the tarnishing of baseball's image by the players has happened through their on
and off the field conduct. Taking advantage of their status as cultural icons, they have
committed countless transgressions with no fear of reprimand. They are able to indulge in
this type of behavior because the sport has proven over time that, as long as they can
hit a curve ball or strike out the side with their fastball, there will always be a place
in the game for them.
In the early 1980s these unethical actions were most commonly seen in the form of drug
use. The problem first arose when four Kansas City players and Los Angeles Dodgers
pitcher Steve Howe were suspended for using drugs in 1983. Yet the nation was shocked
when, during a drug trial in Pittsburgh in September 1985, St Louis Cardinals first
baseman Keith Hernandez claimed that 40 percent of players in the league were cocaine
users. His accusations were not only not disproved, but substantiated when Cardinal
manager Whitey Herzog admitted ten or eleven members of his team were cocaine users.
This revelation was met by the overwhelming disapproval of fans. In a 1986 poll 86
percent of those responding said they believed athletes used drugs, including heroin,
cocaine, and amphetamines. They labeled baseball, along with football, as the league
which they believed had the most widespread problem. 57 percent of those surveyed also
admitted they were "very concerned" about drug use by athletes.2 
But despite the national attention the subject was given in the press, drug use continued
on with relatively little circumstance for the offenders. Tigers pitcher Denny McClain
and former Cy Young winner LaMarr Hoyt were convicted of drug charges in 1985. Hoyt was
sentenced to prison as a result of his conviction. Howe and Mets players Darryl
Strawberry and pitcher Dwight Gooden were all suspended a few years later for
drug-related offenses, yet all three returned to baseball.
The worst drug offender by far was Howe. Voted Rookie of the Year as a relief pitcher
with the Dodgers in 1980, his career took a turn for the worst due to cocaine. 
After a series of unexplained absences, team fines, and suspensions in the early 1980s,
Howe was disqualified for the entire 1984 season while in treatment for his addiction.
When he returned to the Dodgers in 1985, he quickly relapsed and was released by the
team. After being picked up by the Minnesota Twins, evidence of repeated drug use
surfaced and Howe was released again. Failing to draw interest from any major league
teams, he ended up with San Jose Bees, a Class A team in the California League. But his
career there was short-lived as well; another incident with police resulted in his
suspension from all organized baseball. 
After serving out this punishment Howe was signed by the Texas Rangers in 1987. As a
condition of allowing Texas to sign the troubled pitcher Rangers general manager Tom
Grieve guaranteed Commissioner Peter Ueberroth Howe would start with the club's top farm
club in Oklahoma City and would only be promoted to the big leagues with the expressed
approval of Ueberroth. As soon as the deal was done, however, Grieve disregarded the
agreement, promoting Howe to the Rangers, an action for which he was fined $250,000. The
unsavory act was made even worse when the pitcher admitted he had relapsed again,
resulting in yet another suspension. He was given one final reprieve when he was signed
by the Yankees in 1991. Howe soon fell off the wagon when he was cited by authorities in
Montana for drug possession and dealing. The pitcher incurred no penalties for his latest
offense however. In fact, after pleading no contest to the charges against him, he was
reinstated and given a big contract at the end of the season.
In all Howe was suspended for drug use seven times, an unofficial and rather dubious
record. His incredible behavior seemed unfathomable. How could someone, given repeated
opportunities at one of the most highly regarded professions in America, constantly throw
it away? 
The answer was as simple as the power, both monetarily and professionally, baseball
players wielded. Writer Patrick Harrigan diagnosed the situation drug-using athletes
felt, saying, "Big salaries meant the players had money to indulge any whim, and
sycophants who surrounded them led them to believe that they were Nietzschean figures
above the laws that bound normal human beings."3 Dr. Gary Wadler agreed, stating, "Fame,
fortune, free time and feelings of invincibility put athletes at risk."4 This feeling of
being outside of the punishments of the rest of the public did not stop at drugs, but
rather have been manifested in other areas as well during the late 1980s and into the
present. Strawberry has made endless claims he was going straight, yet has been mired
constantly in a long list of personal problems, including alcoholism, a bad marriage,
irreligious life, and involving himself with bad companions.5 He was brought up on
gun-carrying and wife-beating charges. He was admitted to rehab for a second time during
spring training of 1994 due to drug and alcohol problems. He was indicted on tax evasion
charges after failing to report money he had earned for signing autographs at memorabilia
shows. Yet Strawberry just finished the past season as the starting designated hitter for
the world champion New York Yankees.
Boston Red Sox outfielder Will Cordero was charged with domestic battery as well as
assault and battery with a dangerous weapon when he used a telephone to beat his wife
during an argument in June 1997. As he was being led away by police he threatened in
Spanish to kill her.6 In 1999 Cordero played left field and designated hitter for the
American League Central-winning Cleveland Indians.
Outfielder Jose Canseco combined his thunderous bat with a short temper during his early
playing days with the Oakland Athletics. He possessed a "cocky personality that delighted
in his numerous run-ins with traffic cops for late-night, high-speed joy rides ... and
liked to put an adventurous face on brawls with his equally volatile wife Esther."7 He
played left field and designated hitter last season with the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. 
Second baseman Roberto Alomar became the center of controversy when he spit in the face
of umpire John Hirschbeck in 1996 while with the Baltimore Orioles. When he was given a
five game suspension for the act, the major league umpires threatened to strike in
response to what they believed to be a very lax penalty. Alomar won his seventh Gold
Glove award for outstanding fielding this past season as a member of the Indians.
Yet the greatest example of the apparent ignoring of the rules by baseball players is
embodied in Orioles slugger Albert Belle. Called "baseball's highest-paid sociopath"8, he
has been suspended on five different occasions: once for throwing a ball into the stands
and hitting a fan, once for using a corked bat, once for running over Milwaukee Brewers
second baseman Fernando Vina when he tried to tag him out on a ground ball, and twice for
charging the mound. Belle was charged with domestic battery in July 1988. He was forced
to undergo counseling for alcoholism. He has been accused of betting on baseball. When a
fan who had caught a home run ball of Belle's offered to exchange it for an autograph,
the outfielder cursed at him. He also cursed NBC reporter Hannah Storm when she attempted
to interview him after a 1995 World Series game. He attempted to run down
trick-or-treaters in his Ford Explorer on Halloween 1995 after they egged his house when
he did not give them candy. While in college at Louisiana State University, Belle was
benched for throwing equipment and not hustling. 
But possibly his most ridiculous stunt was committed while the erratic player was giving
an interview with Newsweek during spring training of 1996. During the interview, which he
hoped would clear his dirty reputation, several fans approached him to ask him for
autographs. He responded by yelling obscenities at them. 
Because of his repeatedly damning actions, Belle has become the poster child for what is
wrong with sports today. In response to claims that the slugger was really just
misunderstood, reporter Mark Bradley for The Atlanta Journal-Constitution argued that
"... the cold truth is that we don't need a ten-dollar technical term to describe him.
The tiny word 'jerk' will suffice."9 
But these heinous actions by players have usually been met with mere slaps on the wrists,
including inconsequential fines and short suspensions, which have little or no effect to
deter their willingness to transgress again. One concerned fan voiced his displeasure
over this lack of discipline, saying, "There seems to be no standard code among pro
athletes that defines decent behavior, and there appears to be an even greater
unwillingness for coaches and owners to discipline their star players."10 
Even more alarming than the fact that players such as these are allowed to still compete
in the major leagues is the fact that many of them are paid handsomely for their
services. Because of his exemplary work at the plate, Belle was the highest paid player
in baseball last season, making $11.95 million. The effect of paying players such lofty
salaries despite such checkered pasts is that baseball is depicted as a win-at-all-costs
sport where character is viewed as a distant second in importance to on-the-field
production. It also provides staggering insight into how tremendously player payments
have increased in recent years.
Pay for baseball players has skyrocketed since the early days of the game. 
Before the 1970s salaries were kept down by owners through two main means. The first of
these was the lack of a strong union for players. Because of this all the talent was
forced to negotiate their own contracts. Even when the rest of America was experiencing
the rise of labor unions designed to give their members increased bargaining power, "...
baseball stood resolutely against trends outside it, seeking to freeze its structure at a
point in time."11 The other method was through the reserve clause, a condition which
allowed teams to retain their own players without them being able to test their value on
the open market, which could drive up the bidding price for their services. Although
putting the player at a severe economic disadvantage, the clause was strongly championed
by baseball because without it, it was thought, the "free movement of players from club
to club ... would eventually destroy both competitive balance and fan loyalty among major
league teams."12 
The use of these two tools caused players to be relatively powerless in their
negotiations. "As late as the 1960s," writer G. Edward White states, "... owners were
still able to argue that a player reluctant to sign a contract had only the option of
quitting baseball and facing considerably reduced economic prospects."13 Virgil Trucks,
who pitched in the big leagues for 17 years with the Detroit Tigers, St. Louis Browns,
and Chicago White Sox, summed up the players' side of the issue when saying, "There were
no real negotiations for salaries. There was an abundance of ball players and [the
owners] flat out told you and that was it."14 The system created "a highly personal and
paternalistic ownership. Players were like sons who might be rewarded, punished, or
ignored."15 But all of this changed with the appointing of Marvin Miller as executive
director of the Players Association in 1966.
Miller was elected into office by the players after they had long been represented by
Robert Cannon, "an ownership toady mostly interested in being baseball commissioner."16
From the very beginning Miller made it clear that he felt the Players Association was a
union, "not merely a professional guild with pension concerns" as it had been viewed in
the past.17 His appointment reaped immediate dividends for the players when in 1967 he
successfully negotiated the raising of the minimum salaries of players from $7,000 to
$10,000 as well as increasing the amount of money placed by owners in the pension fund.
Around the same time Miller helped create arbitration, a process in which, if players and
management disagreed on a salary to be paid on a new contract, the case was taken before
an arbitrator to decide which side was in the right.
Miller showed no hesitation to challenge the owners in order to establish the players'
union as a powerful bargaining entity. He had the players boycott spring training in 1969
after the owners did not fulfill their agreement to put $150,000 of revenue from the 1968
All-Star Game in the pension fund. But the argument had less to do with the actual
subject matter involved as it did with Miller's desire to show "a classic test of
strength" against the group that had oppressed the players for so long.18
The union head's number one goal, however, was to have the reserve clause repealed. After
failed attempts to negotiate a repeal that would "save the owners some face"19, Miller
felt he was pushed into having to take drastic action, something he would not have done
had he not been dealing with a group, as former Tiger Jim Hawkins put it, "who wanted
things like they were in 1906."20 With his support, Andy Messersmith and Dave McNally
agreed to make themselves test cases against the clause.
Messersmith, a pitcher for the Dodgers, had finished the 1974 season with a
league-leading 20 wins and .769 winning percentage. Despite his stellar stats, however,
he failed to get the contract he wanted from the Dodgers, who simply rolled his previous
deal over in 1975. McNally, on the other hand, had already retired after 14 seasons with
Baltimore and Montreal prior to the case being proposed. Because of the importance of the
case, however, he joined in as a co-plantiff in order to give it more weight.
The grievance was taken before arbitrator Peter Spitz. After deliberating Spitz agreed
with the players' stance on December 23, 1975, stating that players couldn't be tied to
their teams by an automatic turnover of baseball's reserve clause, abolishing it and
opening the way for free agency.
In the years to follow player salaries leapt dramatically. In the twenty years since the
ruling the mean salary of a professional baseball player has risen from just under
$45,000 to just $1.1 million, an increase of almost twenty-four times.21 The percentage
of expenditures which these high salaries make up for a team has increased from 17.6
percent in 1974 to 48.5 percent in 1993.22 Because of the need for more revenue in order
to pay these high priced players, teams have compensated by raising ticket prices. The
average ticket now costs 87% more than it did in 1990. These rapid ticket hikes have
caused more and more fans to be unable to attend games, as seen in a 1997 Associated
Press poll which found 55 percent of those surveyed who called themselves baseball "fans"
believed the cost of attending games was out of their reach financially.23
Because of the increased cost to themselves as well as the resulting spoiled attitude
many players have developed, fans have consistently not approved of the enormous jumps
player salaries have made. In a 1986 Sports Illustrated poll 70 percent of those surveyed
believed that player earnings were too high. This was compounded by the fact that, when
asked to guess the mean salary of baseball players, their estimates averaged $152,000
lower than the actual figure of $371,000.24 At the same time that the players are getting
richer, more money than ever is pouring into the pockets of teams. Along with rising
ticket prices, TV revenues have increased steadily over the years as well. The contract
signed in 1990 increased the amount of money each team would receive from this outlet to
$27.2 million as opposed to only $10.7 million in 1985.25 It seems, therefore, that
everyone involved in baseball is getting richer. This makes the frequent work stoppages
baseball has endured for the past thirty years even more difficult to comprehend. 
Strikes became a serious threat to baseball only after Marvin Miller had established the
Players Association as a legitimate organization during the late 1960s. Due to the rising
power of the players union after this time, more and more concessions were sought by them
in an effort to place themselves on an equal playing field with the owners economically.
Management, however, was not willing to give up their stronger position without a fight.
Continuously adverse to change, owners struggled to keep their bargaining advantage while
the players tried to close the gap. This constant struggle has led to several significant
showdowns, including four work stoppages between 1972 and 1994. In the eyes of the fans
these battles of the wealthy only helped to further reduce the prestige of baseball.
The first players strike occurred in 1972 when, after the owners signed a new four year,
$70 million TV contract , the Players Association demanded to have team contributions to
the pension fund increased one million dollars to $6.5 million. The owners, who in their
minds had already given too much to the union in recent years, vowed not to give in to
the demands. Their resistance was only intensified since the pension fund already had a
surplus. Cardinals owner Gus Busch responded to the insistence by saying angerly, "[The
owners are] not going to give another goddamn cent. And if they want to strike, let them
strike."26 The players obliged Busch's invitation.
The strike quickly came to an end when it became evident that as strong as the owners
purported to be, the players were stronger. Harrigan concluded that Miller, who placed
the business success of his clients ahead of the game itself, "was not about to yield
points for 'the good of the game'."27 When the owners realized the unity the players had,
they gave in to their demands. 
The press bashed both sides for their behavior in causing the strike, scolding them for
thinking of money before the game itself. Hawkins said, " ... players placed more
importance on their pension plan than they did on the game."28 Writer Joe Falls said
shortly before the strike occurred, "[Miller] has woven a spell over the players that
[they] themselves do not fully understand."29 
The claim was a valid one. Miller admitted later, "The players and the union were never
the same again."30 The victory gave the union their first real sense of power. Now that
they had tasted it, it was inevitable that they would thirst for more.
In 1981 the owners had a strong desire to do away with free agency, a practice they had
already seen ill effects from in the form of rising salaries and increased player
movement. But, because the Messersmith-McNally decision had been upheld in several court
decisions, they held no real bargaining position. The owners, hungry to recapture the
power they had already lost, were still willing to take the risk. Their willingness was
partially fueled by their belief that the players would again not strike in order to
protect their power, but would instead cave in. In this conclusion the owners proved to
be wrong.
The ensuing strike lasted for fifty days and canceled 706 games, causing the season to
have to be split into two parts. When the dust had settled, no changes had been made. But
the stoppage had cost the owners and players deeply in the pocketbook to the tune of $72
million and $28 million respectively.
Like the 1972 strike, however, the public relations damage was much worse than the
monetary costs.Time called the strike "an outrage, a form of cultural terrorism ... It
has subverted that sense of the mystique." President of Yale University and future
baseball commissioner A. Bartlett Giamatti said in a New York Times piece, "The strike is
utter foolishness ... a triumph of greed." To make matters worse, the fact that nothing
practical came out of the strike did not help either side explain why the stoppage had
occured.
The 1985 strike was only a small hiccup in terms of the amount of games lost. Despite fan
polls stating that a four-to-one majority of Americans believed it "would be totally
unfair to the fans to have baseball shut down in midseason",31 owners instituted a work
stoppage in the hopes of curtailing the arbitration system and starting a salary cap. The
strike only lasted two days and was settled when the salary cap issue was dropped in
exchange for the raising of the arbitration qualification from two years of major league
experience to three. 
On the surface the owners had won: they had helped themselves while doing no damage to
the game among public opinion. But what no one knew was the owners had decided to attempt
to, in lieu of a salary cap, try to keep salaries down and stop free agency by
circumventing the rules.
After the 1985 season 62 players filed for free agency, yet only five, all of whom played
for teams which had no interest in resigning them, received offers from other teams. The
situation was further accentuated after the following season when even fewer outside
offers were made to the pool of 79 players who made themselves eligible for free agency.
One notable example was Tiger pitcher Jack Morris. Despite having accumulated the most
victories and innings of any pitcher during the decade, he was forced to resign with the
Tigers after no other teams made him offers.
It did not take a genius to know that something was going on amongst the owners. After
the players union filed several grievances, arbitrators Thomas Roberts and George Nicolau
found in three separate decisions that owners had been guilty of collusion in order to
keep free agents on their original teams and to maintain salary levels. As restitution
for the offenses the owners were forced to pay $280 million to the players. But the
distrust that had been caused would prove to be much more damaging than any monetary
punishment in the coming years. 
Baseball commissioner Fay Vincent stated at a press conference on February 21, 1991,
that, given its current economic situation and internal strife between players and
owners, "baseball [was] poised for a catastrophe [which] might not be far off."32 The
commissioner proved to be prophetic as the 1994 strike proved to be the worst in baseball
history. 
Before the strike 1994 was shaping up to be a record year. Matt Williams of the San
Francisco Giants, Ken Griffey Jr. of the Seattle Mariners and Frank Thomas of the Chicago
White Sox all were threatening to break Roger Maris' single season home run record. In
addition Thomas was also threatening Babe Ruth's season records for walks, runs scored
and total bases. Tony Gwynn of the San Diego Padres had a good shot at becoming the first
player since Ted Williams to hit .400 in 1941. Teams were on pace to hit more home runs
and score more runs than had been tallied since 1930.
But instead of witnessing a historic final push for these numerous milestones, baseball
fans were greeted with another strike on August 12. Then the unthinkable happened: faced
with a complete impasse in negotiations, the season was canceled on September 14. For the
first time since 1904, there would be no World Series.
As Vincent had had the vision to see, the stage had been set for a possible monumental
conflict due to a complete distrust between players and owners harbored from previous
negotiations. The collusion cases in 1985 and 1986 had "embittered the players, who had
long distrusted their employers."33 The owners in turn felt they had lost in all recent
negotiations and they wanted to reverse that trend. After 1990 Milwaukee Brewers owner
Bud Selig and Chicago White Sox owner Jerry Reinsdorf concluded that 1994, the year the
collective bargaining agreement would run out, "was going to be the year and they'd have
to do things differently ... [The owners] needed to get their way this time."34 When
asked how they would get their way, Reinsdorf posed an ominous answer: "You do it by
taking a position and telling [the players] we're not going to play unless we make a deal
and [by] being prepared not to play one or two years if you have to."35 
Because both sides had decided to take a hard stance to avoid losing any ground, all
negotiation efforts failed. Even when federal arbitrators were brought in and Congress
threatened to repeal baseball's antitrust exemption, neither side would budge. A
resolution was only reached when an unfair labor practices complaint filed on behalf of
the players by the National Labor Relations Board resulted in U.S. District Judge Sonia
Sotomayor granting an injunction on March 30, 1995 which allowed the players to go back
to work. After all the damage the players and owners had done due to their internal
struggles, nothing had changed. 
The press coverage on both sides was brutal from the time a strike was threatened until
well after it ended. The Associated Press called the strike a "dispute between two
gluttonous sides".36 Harrigan claims, "Never before has the naked power struggle between
the players and owners been so needless and so self-destructive."37 
The Detroit Free Press lamented, "The owners live such fortunate lives; the players live
such fortunate lives. They should have been able to solve this."38 When the season was
canceled, the Free Press printed a tombstone with "R.I.P" etched into it.
Fan polls done at the time show a population fed up with the business of baseball. 70
percent of Americans thought players were "more interested in money than the game". 79
percent said labor disputes had "taken the fun out of the game". A
majority of those polled said they were "disgusted" with the strike. At the end of the
1995 season 56 percent of fans had a "less favorable" view of professional sports than
they had had during the previous summer. A Reuters/ABC poll found that the number of
people that labeled themselves "baseball fans" had declined from 44 percent in 1993 to 28
percent in 1995. The sport which had been voted America's favorite in 1960 and came in
second behind football in 1972 dropped to third behind basketball in 1995. In the same
poll only 12 percent of fans voted baseball as their favorite, a drop from 34 percent in
1961 and 24 percent in 1971.39 
More than in any other previous work stoppage, fan sentiment was wholly negative towards
baseball. But instead of anger being the main feeling set forth by the public, the
general reaction was hurt. It was the words of a 73-year-old woman who had grown up
playing baseball in her backyard with her brothers and grandfather that best summed up
the prevailing fan response: "Baseball has lost its soul and it lost my heart."40 It was
quite clear that the emotional wounds that had been caused by baseball's selfishness
would not heal quickly.
This was further evidenced by the brief downturn in fan involvement when the 1995 season
commenced. Attendance dropped 20 million, or 28 percent, from 1993 despite attempts by
teams to draw fans back using discounted tickets and massive advertising campaigns. The
TV ratings for the All-Star Game were the lowest in 28 years while the number of votes
for the All-Star teams plummeted from 14 million in 1994 to 5.4 million in 1995. The
discontent shown by fans both through their comments and their staying away from the
stadiums made the 1994 strike seem like an almost lethal blow for baseball. In the strike
of 1994, "No one won. Baseball lost."41 
Baseball's complete baring of its hideous business disagreements has shown that in the
past twenty years the enjoyment of fans and the preservation of the game have taken a
backseat to the pursuit by the sport's hierarchy for the almighty dollar.
Players, despite averaging over a million dollars per year, demand payment for
autographs. Players such as Albert Belle have become mercenaries, signing for whatever
team will give them the highest fee regardless of team loyalty. Earlier suspicions as to
whether the love of the game played any part in today's baseball were answered
resoundingly in 1994. The conclusion afterward was shocking, but crystal clear: "By 1994
everyone knew baseball was a business. They were shocked that it seemed to be only a
business."42 
Yet despite all of the grievances, arguments and unethical behavior which surrounds
baseball, the popularity of the game itself has not noticeably been affected. Even when
fans didn't go to games in 1995, the ratings for local TV and ESPN broadcasts remained
stable. The last four World Series games still managed to be in the ratings top 10 for
the week.43 After the attendance decline in 1995, figures rose 11 percent in 1996 and
another 17.6 percent in 1997.44 By 1996 baseball had moved back ahead of basketball as
America's second favorite sport.45 This quick resurgence proved that the displeasure fans
felt after the 1994 strike was not directed at the game itself, but at the players that
had brought the sport down.
Atlanta Journal-Constitution writer Furman Bisher wrote in a July 25, 1985, article
before that year's strike that "fans won't stop going to ball games anymore than tavern
habitues will stop drinking beer because the brewers are on strike."46 He was right then
and he is right now: no matter what players ever do to try to take away from the game's
glory and mystique, baseball will always survive.
Bibliography
Works Cited
Bisher, Furman. "Striking is what spoiled baseball players seem to do best." The Atlanta
Journal-Constitution. July 29, 1985: pp E1.
Blount, Rachel. "Sports Poll: 71 percent of adults are fans." The Atlanta Journal-
Constitution. June 4, 1986: pp C6.
Bradley, Mark. "Forget all the psychobabble, Belle just a jerk." The Atlanta Journal-
Constitution. May 31, 1996: pp H1.
"Cordero arrested on assault charges." The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. June 12, 1997:
pp F5.
Dewey, Donald, and Nicholas Acocella. The Biographical History of Baseball. New York, New
York: Carroll & Graf Publishers, Inc, 1995.
Harrigan, Patrick. The Detroit Tigers: Club and Community, 1945-1995. Toronto, Ontario:
University of Toronto Press, 1997.
"Harris Poll: Public favors players over owners." The Atlanta Journal-Constitution.
August 5, 1985: pp D6.
Sullivan, Tim. "All work and no plagues make Albert dull boy." The Cincinnati Enquirer.
February 21, 1997: C1.
Tucker, Tim. "Fans come back as baseball puts labor management rift aside." The Atlanta
Journal-Constitution. February 19, 1996: pp D2.
White, G. Edward. Creating the National Pastime: Baseball Transforms Itself: 1903- 1953.
Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1996.