Rozner: Why MLB players should blame themselves for state of free agency
After many months of crying about collusion among baseball owners, a funny thing happened to a pair of big-name players on the way to the poor house.
Bryce Harper signed a contract for $330 million and Manny Machado inked paper for $300 million.
That's an interesting form of collusion.
Of course, players are unhappy. Their agents are telling them to voice their displeasure with as much noise and frequency as possible, as in every time they're asked about it.
Problem is, it's not collusion.
It's owners and executives trying to avoid the competitive balance tax, a tax the players union should have never agreed to in the first place and a tax that is becoming more punitive and stifling each time the players allow the commissioner to increase the penalties.
The last two CBAs, in particular, have seen the tax escalate, especially for teams repeatedly exceeding the threshold.
That was a very, very big mistake by the union.
For the hard of reading, remember that your friendly neighborhood columnist is a capitalist and has always been a players' guy, on the side of the free market determining value with the hope that the players make huge dollars.
If it's good enough for actors and politicians - not to mention team owners - it ought to be good enough for athletes providing immeasurable entertainment and escape for the masses.
But the players gave away too much in the last couple CBAs and as a group they're now paying the price, as even the very rich teams are doing all they can to reset the tax and avoid repeater penalties.
A club with three or more straight seasons exceeding the threshold will be hit with a 50 percent payroll tax. Under the right circumstances, it can reach 95 percent.
Avoiding absurd penalties is not collusion. It's not even organized. It's merely sanity run amok.
Most of the players whining about "collusion" apparently don't know the history of MLB owners actually getting together and agreeing not to bid on free agents.
Yeah, actual, organized policy to deny players true free agency.
After the 1986 season, Andre Dawson - one of the best players in the game - left Montreal and was forced to beg the Cubs for a deal, signing a blank contract.
One year for Dawson, $500,000, a 50-percent pay cut. Thirteen years for Bryce Harper, $330 million.
Collusion?
The same offseason Dawson had zero offers, Jack Morris hit free agency off a 21-8 mark in 1986, with a 3.27 ERA in 267 innings, 223 strikeouts and a league-best 6 shutouts.
Over the previous five seasons, Morris averaged 19-12, 36 starts, 15 complete games and 265 innings with a 3.51 ERA and 1.22 WHIP.
Yes, averaged.
Morris got zero offers in free agency. He was forced to stay in Detroit and took a one-year deal worth $1.85 million.
Amid several winters of collusion, nearly every star was forced back to his old team, same as Dawson and Morris, and nearly every time it was on a one-year deal.
Take Tim Raines, also a free agent after the 1986 season.
For four years, Raines averaged - yes, averaged - just short of 700 plate appearances, 111 runs and 76 stolen bases (10 caught), while hitting .315 with an on-base of .401, slugging .454 and an OPS-plus of 141. He averaged 6.35 wins above replacement.
Raines was an all-star each year and finished top 12 in MVP voting all four seasons.
He got zero offers in free agency and had to re-sign with the Expos, with the added bonus of being kept off the field until May 1, 1987, when the rules finally allowed him to ink a new contract.
Tim Raines: zero offers. Manny Machado: 10 years, $300 million.
Collusion?
The players and their agents were right there in the room when they agreed to these last two CBAs, and these luxury tax penalties are the reason the last two winters have been frigid for a serious portion of the free-agent market.
For as long as there's been a union, the players wisely refused to give in to the notion of a salary cap, expressing over and over again that the players shouldn't have to police the owners' spending for them, when the owners themselves could not agree among themselves on how to curb spending and give the small markets a chance.
Now, the players have essentially given the owners the cap they've always wanted, and teams are being very careful about getting into the tax, and certainly not repeating in it.
The players have no one to blame but themselves.
It has nothing to do with collusion, but if they would like a history lesson, and a vivid description of what collusion really means, there's at least three legendary players they can call to find out.
They're easy to find. Just dial Cooperstown.