Rozner: Still waiting on MLB to take care of retired players

When first the subject was discussed here two years ago, there were 636 retired baseball players begging MLB and the players union for a little piece of the action.

Today, the number is 613.

And that appears to be the strategy of the players union. Wait for them all to die and then they won't be bothered with this story anymore.

Those who played before 1980, and didn't complete four years of service, don't qualify for a pension, in stark contrast to those who came after. For every quarter year of service, the 1947-1979 players - who didn't reach four years - get $625, before taxes.

Yippee. The maximum is $10,000, though most receive only a fraction of that.

There's another 200 pre-1980 guys who didn't reach 43 days of service. They receive nothing from MLB and no attention from union boss Tony Clark, himself a former player who will receive a healthy pension and - as of last notice - receives more than $2 million a year as union chief.

By contrast, anyone who played after 1979 is eligible for health coverage after one day and a pension after 43 days. The union did not make it retroactive when it made that deal in 1980, leaving behind the rest.

The union sends out news releases several times a month, every time it donates millions to a cause, which is a great thing. MLB also give millions on top of millions to charity, for which it also deserves praise.

But a business that produced $11 billion in revenue before the pandemic, and a union with a welfare and pension benefits fund valued at more than $3 billion, has no such generosity for the players who went on strike, lost money and fought for the rights of today's players - including former player Clark.

You would think the national media would be very interested in a story like this, broke and dying players going without decent living accommodations and health care, but no one wants a piece of this story because most have some connection with Rob Manfred, the union, the agents, MLB Network or a rights holder.

While old men are evicted from their homes, dying penniless and without proper medical care, the union - at last glance, pre-pandemic - was employing 72 people in New York at a cost of $16 million a year, or an average salary of $222,000.

The average salary in baseball today is $4 million and the minimum salary is $570,000.

Hoffman Estates resident and former Cub Gene Hiser (1971-75) lost money while out on strike in 1972. He receives a whopping $6,200 annually, before taxes, from MLB.

"The kicker is most of these (613) guys in that period are guys who went out on strike so the current players could get big bucks," Hiser told me. "Time lost to a strike are days you don't get back, and maybe 100 of those (613) guys would have four years (and a pension) if not for that.

"And there's guys who fought during the wars and didn't get that time back."

In the last two years, nothing has changed, except the number of players seeking help from baseball. That is shrinking.

George Yankowski, a catcher for the White Sox in 1949, died at age 97 a year ago. He played for the Phillies in 1942 and enlisted in the Army that October. He fought in Europe and earned a Bronze Star for his participation in the Battle of the Bulge.

Prior to his death, he received $2,500 from MLB - before taxes - never mind the years he lost to World War II. When Yankowski got his first check 10 years ago, he used the money for long-delayed dental work.

No one will talk about this as baseball sees it as an annoyance that will get buried along with the men as they pass away. Manfred doesn't care. Owners don't care. Clark doesn't care. The union doesn't care. The players don't care. And the agents don't care.

The response is generally something along the lines of, they should be grateful they get anything.

So, the players who went on strike for today's players, and were forgotten in a single CBA and left behind by the union, should be thankful, when everyone who played after 1979 get benefits, a pension and play by a different set of rules.

In what world does this make sense, and why doesn't anyone care?

Bud Selig's last salary in 2014 was $22 million, so a reasonable guess puts Manfred at about half that much, but some of those who played for Brewers owner Selig, and walked the picket lines for today's players, don't have cash on hand to pay for their own funerals.

MLB and the union pat themselves on the back for how woke they are, responding to partisan issues with statements, news releases and donations, knowing the media will support certain narratives, but when it comes to their own - the players and their families who paved the way for all of today's wealthy MLB executives and union members - there is silence.

Two years ago, it was suggested here that it would cost $6 million to give those 600-plus players $10,000 a year - a tiny figure compared to most baseball pensions - and allow them to pass it along to their wives as a death benefit.

Silence.

A couple big-name players could hold a golf tournament and raise that much every year, but most have their own foundations and their own causes, and can't be bothered with old baseball players begging for money.

This is a mere pittance in the grand scheme of an $11 billion business. Besides, many of these players are in poor health, so MLB and the union could soon enough celebrate getting out from under this irritation.

They trumpet their care for the world when it earns them positive press, but 613 old men don't garner that sort of publicity.

They are easy to dismiss. And easily forgotten.