Well, we've had about a week to digest the return of the New York Yankees to the summit of Mount MLB. To this writer, the Yankees winning the World Series is akin to the zombies killing the teenage skinny dippers in a horror flick (and right before the nude scene, no less), or the passage of Pelosi/Obama-care. Not unexpected, but disappointing and anti-climactic. Combine the Yankees win with the end of baseball season, and your faithful author has been in a bit of a sports funk (and Texas's beatdown of the University of Central Florida didn't quite fit the adernaline bill).
But the Yankees' win also got me to do something George Steinbrenner no longer can -- think. (And yes, I am going straight to Hell for that particular comment). Is the reascenscion of the Yankees good for baseball? Or is it a sign of exactly what Houston Astros fans have long lamented -- that the big market clubs can buy a championship while Uncle Drayton has to content himself with sippin' on moonshine and throwin' rocks in the pond?
Like the good Jew that I am, I have mixed feelings on the subject. Statistically speaking, there is not a lot of evidence to support the theory that the big market clubs have a dynamic advantage. Something like 20 different teams have made the playoffs in the last 10 years, coming from a range of markets. This would suggest that wise-spending, talent-oriented teams from "small" markets can still succeed. But that tingling in your gut is not the unpleasant rise of last night's dinner, its the realization that -- at the heart of the matter -- probably 25 out of 30 teams don't have a realistic chance of winning at the start of any given year.
So what's more accurate, the numbers or the intuition. My sense is, like so much, the answer lies somewhere in between. Small market teams with owners who don't worry about turning a profit (which, realistically, is not what owning a sports team is really about), can win. They could spend far more than they do, and have a significantly improved chance of prevailing. But the economic realities (i.e. there is so much money in play) suggest that owners are going to be guided by the finances before (and above) winning.
All this is a roundabout way of saying that something needs to be done about baseball salaries for the good of the game. While I am usually the first to stand at the the front of the capitalist, laissez faire line, in this instance I think that the collective good might be best for each individual club. Think of the increased revenue if even half the after-thought teams had diligent followings past the All-Star Break. Baseball has no seasonal competition for much of the year, and yet is in great danger of becoming gerrymandered into a sport of the northeastern coordinator (and St. Louis). In this case, could a rising tide raise all boats?
Or maybe I should just stop drinking for the night.
Oh, and go Dodgers!
