Professional athletes draw our scorn because they make gobs of money to work a job we say we would do for free. Because some possess a sense of entitlement.
But even the luckiest, richest jerks in the world — the number of which, by the way, is grossly overestimated — deserve the right to choose their place of employment. They ought to receive their fair share of the pie they help create.
Marvin Miller — who died yesterday morning at age 95, several months after being diagnosed with liver cancer — helped those athletes attain such freedoms, such fairness, more than any other person in sports history. He led the charge for the players to attain free agency, which started in earnest after the 1976 season, and the salaries organically skyrocketed alongside revenues from there.
“He opened a lot of doors for us,” Mike Mussina, the former Yankees pitcher, told The Post yesterday. “He gave us opportunities that weren’t there before. He fought for things we should have the right to be able to do.”
Said current Players Association executive director Michael Weiner, in a statement: “All players — past, present and future — owe a debt of gratitude to Marvin, and his influence transcends baseball. Marvin, without question, is largely responsible for ushering in the modern era of sports, which has resulted in tremendous benefits to players, owners and fans of all sports.”
Don’t espouse the nonsense that players’ greed causes modern ticket prices to be so high. What, you think the owners would keep prices down out of the goodness of their hearts if not for the bloodthirsty players? Please. Pro sports are huge business, and it’s better today for the contributions of Miller, the union’s founding executive director.
Happier players are more productive players, and players can improve the game, too. The combative Miller fought and won the early battles with owners, many of whom didn’t appreciate the idea of players wanting more of everything. Now, generations later, the dynamic between the players and owners has become so much healthier that players help implement initiatives such as the World Baseball Classic and the league switch of the Astros.
With Miller gone, all that’s left is to finally enshrine him in the Baseball Hall of Fame, an honor that eluded him during his long life. Miller didn’t make the cut on multiple Veterans Committee ballots. How anyone could deny him this right, intellectually, is beyond me. A vote against him is fundamentally personal.
And baseball isn’t a personal endeavor. It’s business. Miller belongs among the giants of the business.