Pat Gillick and the Rule 5 Draft (1977)

Part 19 of our series on Important Moments in Team Building.  See introduction, and up-to-date list.

 

Building an expansion team is difficult. The talent available from other teams in the expansion draft rarely consists of players one can build around or will still be valuable once the team eventually contends for the playoffs. When Pat Gillick took over as GM of the Blue Jays after their inaugural season in the fall of 1977 he began to implement his “many rivers” approach to finding ballplayers: Look everywhere.

Most famously he teamed up with his old friend, scout Epy Guerrero, and began building a presence in the Dominican Republic, well ahead of other organizations, excepting perhaps the Dodgers.

UpshawGillick also began to exploit another little-used “river” in December 1977 when he selected first baseman Willie Upshaw, whom he and Guerrero knew from the Yankees organization, in the Rule 5 draft. A holdover from the early days of organized baseball (under slightly changing guidelines and sections in the rulebook), the Rule 5 draft was designed to prevent players from being buried in the minors. Teams could control any player in their organization who was younger than 19 on June 4 of their signing year for four years and those who were 19 or older for three years. Practically, this translated to high school and college signees respectively.   After this control period, players had to be placed onto the team’s 40-man roster or be exposed to the Rule 5 draft. Held in December, this draft allows teams to claim veteran minor leaguers unprotected on their club’s 40-man roster. (As of the 2007 the control period was increased by one year to five years for prep players and four years for the college players.) The cost of each draftee was $25,000 (the price jumped to $50,000 in 1985 and is $100,000 today).

The catch is that the selecting team has to keep the player on its major league 25-man roster for the entire upcoming season or return the player to his previous club for half the original drafting price. As most of the available players were not ready to jump to the major leagues, a club would often have to waste a roster spot for a full season if it wished to keep the player. Accordingly, only about ten to fifteen players a year were usually selected in the Rule 5 draft. But if a team could find a player of value, the price was cheap compared with trying to develop a major league ballplayer.

download (16)Gillick recognized that the young Blue Jays were still in the talent accumulation stage and while an unprotected player may not fit into their team’s plans, they might still be good enough to play for the Blue Jays. He and his scouts focused their energies on this draft much more than the other clubs. Over the next several years Gillick mastered the Rule 5 draft to an uncanny degree. In addition to Upshaw he uncovered a number of additional valuable contributors, including OF George Bell (1987 MVP), SS/2B Manny Lee, P Jim Gott, and 3B Kelly Gruber.

Bobby Cox, who managed the 1985 team to its first division title, deserves special credit for this championship because he was effectively limited to just 23 roster spots. Gillick saddled Cox with two Rule 5 players, Manny Lee and Lou Thornton, and neither were yet ready for the majors. During the years that Toronto was still uncompetitive the burden of carrying these players seemed a fair tradeoff. One of the many things Gillick appreciated about Cox was that his manager bought into the overall program, even when it made his job a little harder.

Gillick’s success in the mostly overlooked Rule 5 draft of veteran minor leaguers was legendary; no one else came close to his success, and he forced teams to be much smarter about protecting their assets from this draft. Moreover, in no small part due to the success of Gillick in using this approach to uncover talent, baseball changed its rules. In 1985 the cost of a drafted player was increased, as noted above, to $50,000. Moreover, the majors and minors agreed to increase the control period from three to four years. Gillick understood better than just about anyone the need to look for talent anywhere and everywhere.

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Andy Messersmith (1975)

Part 18 of our series on Important Moments in Team Building.  See introduction, and up-to-date list.

 

In the years following his 1966 hiring as the MLBPA’s executive director, Marvin Miller began educating the players about the “reserve clause”, the paragraph in the standard baseball contract that bound a player to a team for life. Miller believed the clause was unethical and illegal, but he also questioned whether the clause actually said what baseball people (clubs and owners) had long believed it said.

The “reserve clause” was Paragraph 10-A of the standard contract and read, in part: “On or before December 20 (or if a Sunday, then the next preceding business day) in the year of the last playing season covered by the contract, the Club may tender to the Player a contract for the term of that year by mailing the same to the Player at his address following his signature hereto, or if none be given, then at his last address of record with the Club.” If a player and club could not agree on contract terms for the following year, the club could renew the previous contract at a rate not less than 80% of the prior year’s terms.

FloodSince the 19th century, this meant that every off-season each team would “reserve” all of the players it wanted to keep for next year. A player would be reserved year after year until he was deemed no longer useful, and then the club would release him or he would retire.

In early 1970, outfielder Curt Flood—having just been traded from the Cardinals to the Phillies—sued major league baseball in federal court, asking the court to invalidate the clause and give him the right to sign with any team he wished. Flood ultimately lost his case in the US Supreme Court, but his struggle, and the obvious panic it induced in the owners, helped to strengthen the players’ resolve and persuade many in the media of the merits of his case.

The first significant modification to the reserve clause actually came in the 1973 CBA, when all players with ten years experience and five with their current club, had to approve any trade to another. This rule, known as the 10/5 rule, would have applied to Flood, who likely would have vetoed the trade and stayed with the Cardinals. The first player to veto a trade was Ron Santo in late 1973, when he called off the Cubs attempt to trade him to the Angels.

In the mean time the union was eyeing another tactic.

Marvin Miller’s interpretation of the reserve clause was that if a player did not sign his contract, and played out the year under the renewed terms, the reserve clause would not apply the following off-season, making the player a free agent. The club’s interpretation was that the entire contract, including 10-A, was renewed. Miller wondered what a neutral arbitrator would decide, if the clause were ever tested?

The first player to play a large part of the season under a renewed contract was Cardinals catcher Ted Simmons in 1972. Simmons signed for a hefty pay increase around the All-Star break, an increase he likely would not have gotten without the threat his situation imposed. In 1973 seven players played into the season without signed contracts, but all either signed or were released.

In 1974, Yankee pitcher Sparky Lyle and Padres outfielder Bobby Tolan went all the way to the goal line, until Lyle signed a two-year deal on the final day of the regular season. On October 17, the still-unsigned Tolan filed a grievance. Just prior to the hearing he signed a two-year deal for the terms he had been requesting. Marvin Miller was careful never to advise players to sign or not sign contracts—he just made certain they understood the law, and their rights. He was happy for Tolan, but still hoped for a test case.

andy_messersmith_1971Finally, in 1975, Dodger pitcher Andy Messersmith and Expos pitcher Dave McNally (who retired during the season but agreed to join the case) made it into the end zone. On December 23, 1975, arbitrator Peter Seitz ruled for Messersmith and McNally, dramatically altering the balance of power between baseball players and their clubs and how a general manager could build his team. Seitz ruled that the infamous “reserve clause” in the standard player contract did not in fact bind a player to his club endlessly but merely for one additional season, and that the two players were now free agents.

Since the Messersmith ruling, most labor negotiations have hinged on the owners attempts to reduce the freedoms that Seitz gave the players in 1975 – by limiting free agency to six-year veterans, by requiring some sort of compensation going to the team that lost the player (the details of which have changed many times), or by taxing team payrolls.

At the time of the Messersmith decision, many observers predicted that salaries would skyrocket and that baseball would suffer terrible harm. “Without a reserve system,” Commissioner Bowie Kuhn testified, “our vast array of minor leagues would hardly survive. It is not hard to imagine that we could even lose a major league.” But many also believed that the owners were little concerned with principal. “It is the price of human flesh that has scandalized the baseball establishment,” Red Smith wrote, “not the barter of human flesh.”

In the end, of course, the game did not crumble.   Baseball revenues (bolstered by enormous television revenue, stadium enhancement, merchandising, and advanced media income) have skyrocketed beyond what could have been imagined in 1975. Moreover, the associated massive escalation in franchise values has more than offset the jump in salaries.

It is important to recall that Seitz’s decision essentially allowed any player to play out their contract and become a free agent. The owners, suitably panicked, briefly locked the players out of spring training in 1976, before the two sides eventually signed a new CBA in mid-summer. The new deal created the model that we have today, giving free agency to players with six years of major league service time.

But for the past 40 years, salary and service time are of paramount importance when building and maintaining a roster. The days of trading for veteran stars had practically come to an end.

 

Catfish Hunter (1974)

Part 17 of our series on Important Moments in Team Building.  See introduction, and up-to-date list.

 

During Marvin Miller’s early days running the player’s union, he made slow progress in his efforts to convince the players that they were underpaid. By 1973 the players’ minimum salary had more than doubled – from $7,000 to $15,000 – and salary arbitration had begun to provide several large salary increases that would not have occurred before the union’s recent progress. But what would be in store with a free market was still mostly a matter of conjecture.

9102-247FrThe players actually had one data point. In August 1967, Kansas City Athletics owner Charlie Finley released outfielder Ken Harrelson in a fit of anger. Finley had fired manager Alvin Dark, and Harrelson responded by calling Finley “a menace to baseball.” When Harrelson refused to apologize, Finley released him unconditionally. Usually when a player is released it is because the team believes that he has no trade value, but in Harrelson’s case the “release” was actually beneficial to the player.

Harrelson was initially shocked, fearing that he would be blacklisted from the game, but his shock abated once he started getting phone calls from general managers offering him contracts at significantly more money than he had been making. A good player but by no means a star, when Harrelson signed with the Red Sox for a reported $75,000 (Harrelson later claimed $150,000, which likely included a sizeable bonus) he became one of the highest compensated players in the game. The ramifications of Harrelson’s free agency so disturbed major league owners that they amended the rules such that in the future a released player had to pass through waivers before becoming a free agent.

With that loophole closed, there were no more free agents in baseball for seven years, when Charlie Finley once again handed the players a glimpse of a possible future. On the eve of the 1974 World Series, which the A’s won for the third straight year, a story broke that star pitcher Jim “Catfish” Hunter would file a “breach of contract” grievance against the A’s because Finley had failed to pay a $50,000 annuity as stipulated by Hunter’s contract (which totaled $100,000 for the season). If Hunter’s position was upheld, he would become a free agent.

Marvin Miller had said that the impartial grievance arbitration was the union’s greatest victory, and here was its first significant use. The judge would not be Commissioner Bowie Kuhn, whose public statements made it crystal clear that he would have ruled for the A’s, but arbitrator Peter Seitz.

Oakland A's v Baltimore OriolesFinley had agreed to the annuity clause in Hunter’s contract, but once he realized that there were significant tax liabilities associated with this method of payment, he refused to pay it. After the story broke, he made a public show of trying to give Hunter a $50,000 check in the A’s clubhouse during the World Series. Hunter refused the check.

Soon after the A’s beat the Dodgers in the final game, Hunter followed through with his grievance. Nearly four weeks after a lengthy November 26 hearing, arbitrator Seitz found for Hunter, voiding his contract and freeing him to sign with any club. The baseball world went crazy. Ken Harrelson was a good major league player who had gotten rich, but Hunter was a star.

A three-week bidding war ensued involving nearly every team in baseball. The Yankees landed him with a five-year deal totaling $3.75 million, about three times the going rate for the game’s top stars. Players union chief Marvin Miller had been telling the players for years what the free market might mean, and now they knew. “This had shown everybody,” said Lee MacPhail, now the AL president, “exactly what free agency could amount to.”

San Diego Padres president Buzzie Bavasi, who reportedly bid higher than the Yankees for Hunter, likely spoke for many owners in expressing his fear of what had transpired. “What we saw happen here,” he said, “fully demonstrates the importance of the reserve rule. The richest clubs would offer the top players the biggest salaries and the biggest bonuses.”

Marvin Miller disagreed. “Buzzie Bavasi is a smart man,” he said, “educated and all of that, but he obviously didn’t learn anything about economics. What he is saying is economic idiocy. The Hunter case establishes zero about what would happen in a free market. Here we had a supply of one and a demand of 24. Obviously, when the supply is one and the demand is great, prices will go up dramatically.”

Miller was right, of course. But major league players could not help but wonder what a free market, even one crowded with several other players, might look like. They did not have long to wait.

 

 

 

 

Binding Salary Arbitration (1973)

Part 16 of our series on Important Moments in Team Building.  See introduction, and up-to-date list.

 

In the 1968 collective bargaining agreement the players union had achieved grievance arbitration, with the commissioner acting as sole arbiter. While this was an important gain, and Commissioner Eckert had ruled in their favor on many issues, an experienced labor negotiator like players’ union leader Marvin Miller understood the importance of getting impartial grievance arbitration into the agreement with the owners.

“[An impartial arbitrator] is the key thing in any labor negotiation,” commented sportswriter Leonard Koppett, “because that’s the only weapon the union has. If you don’t have that, you don’t have anything.” Without a third-party, impartial arbitrator there was no way for players to get a fair hearing. Owners had been acting with impunity, unencumbered by the limitations of the antitrust statutes, since they introduced the reserve clause in 1879.

download (15)In negotiating the second CBA agreement in early 1970 Miller hoped to wedge the door open for binding arbitration for player-owner grievances. The owners point person in the negotiation was Commissioner Bowie Kuhn, a priggish attorney who nevertheless loved baseball and was particularly concerned with the commissioner’s mandate to uphold the integrity of the game. Unfortunately for the owners, he also was a neophyte when it came to labor negotiations and didn’t really understand the long-term implications of some of Miller’s approaches. As for grievance arbitration, as long as it didn’t impinge on his ability to rule on integrity issues, he had no real objections.   So, among other small but real gains, in the second CBA approved on May 23, an outside arbitrator would now be used for all grievances not involving integrity of the game, an achievement Miller called the “Association’s most important victory,” to that point.

As has been noted in several previous posts in this series, under the existence of the reserve clause leverage in salary negotiations was blatantly skewed to the owners. Players had no alternative but to sign with whatever team owned their rights if they wanted to play baseball. With the principal of arbitration in place, Miller and the union next pressed for binding salary arbitration. Under Miller’s proposal, if the two sides could not agree to a salary, the dispute would go to a neutral arbitrator. Arbitration, with its defined criteria for the arbitrator, would force the clubs to play fair and would minimize the inequities among them.

The union successfully pushed through binding salary arbitration in the third CBA, concluded on February 25, 1973. Players with at least two years’ service time would have the right to have their salary dispute heard by a neutral arbitrator. That the newly agreed upon arbitration process was structured as “final-offer” arbitration also benefited the players. In final-offer arbitration, now commonly known as baseball-style arbitration, each side presents its salary request and the arbitrator must pick between them. He only has those two options; he can’t split the difference or pick some third amount. This helped force both sides to be reasonable and try to negotiate in advance—as opposed to taking an extreme position and hoping the arbitrator would split the difference. It also placed the owners in a position of having to negotiate in good faith.

136293Minnesota hurler Dick Woodson became the first player to have his salary arbitration case heard on February 11, 1974. Woodson asked for $29,000; the Twins offered $23,000. Over an 11 day period, 29 arbitration cases were heard before neutral arbitrators. Another 24 cases were filed but settled before the hearing, an additional benefit of final-offer arbitration. Woodson won his case, but overall the owners prevailed in 16 of the 29 arbitrated cases. Nevertheless, the players were clearly benefiting: even with their losses, 23 of the 29 received raises. Moreover, as Miller had grasped, arbitration forced notoriously tightfisted owners such as Charley Finley to pay competitive wages, increasing the salary scale for everyone. More than one-third of the hearings (10) were for Oakland A’s; nine received raises, some significant.

For the first time in many years, teams would have to manage around some payroll uncertainty when building their roster for the upcoming season. The final payroll would not be known until all the arbitration decisions were rendered. Team building was about to enter a new era in which creating and managing payroll flexibility would become a significant factor. And a couple years later, its importance would snowball.

 

Free Trade (1971)

Part 15 of our series on Important Moments in Team Building.  See introduction, and up-to-date list.

 

Between 1965 (the year of the first Amateur Draft) and 1976 (the first year of Free Agency), baseball general managers had more power than they had ever had and would ever have. It was the era when baseball players had the least control over their careers, and it was also the era when owner wealth or revenue meant the least. A team could not buy its way out of trouble with bonuses to amateurs or veterans. If you had a poor team, you had two reasonable methods to improve: you could draft well over a period of years and then be patient; or you could make a series of astute trades. Ideally, you would do both.

This is where the general manager came in. Other than the occasional owner who was actually going bankrupt, the rest of the teams, even those in small markets like Baltimore, Oakland, and Cincinnati, could compete on equal footing with teams in New York and Los Angeles if they had a bright general manager, scouts, and development system. In fact, all three of those teams achieved more success in this period than before or since.

CuellarIn all three cases, much of their success could be attributed to their ability to trade. The Orioles great 1969-71 run was keyed by deals for Frank Robinson, Mike Cuellar, and Pat Dobson, while the A’s turned a good team into a great one by dealing for Ken Holtzman and Bill North.

But the greatest GM of this period, the man who built the best team, was Bob Howsam, who ran the Cincinnati Reds. Howsam was a master trader, having made impressive deals for Orlando Cepeda and Roger Maris during a stint running the Cardinals before taking the Reds job in 1967. His acquisition of Bobby Tolan put the finishing touches on his 1970 pennant winner, but his master stroke came after his team slid back in 1971.

Howsam met with his brain trust, including manager Sparky Anderson, the farm director, and the team’s top scouts, in September 1971, to map out their off-season strategy. As Howsam saw it, they were too slow, too defensively challenged (especially now that they had moved to Riverfront Stadium with its artificial turf and huge power alleys), and too right-handed. Howsam and his group went over his team position by position throughout the entire organization, and then put together a position-by-position ranking of every player in the major leagues to gauge how the Reds matched up.

Howsam expected his staff to know other baseball organizations as well as the teams themselves did. When he went to talk to the Pirates about a trade, he wanted to know the Pirate players who might be blocked or who might be underappreciated. He wanted to be ready for anything his counterpart might suggest.

The man Sparky Anderson wanted was Joe Morgan, a 28-year-old second baseman with the Astros. Morgan was a left-handed hitter, a great base stealer, and had more power than most middle infielders. He also had tremendous on-base skills that were undervalued at the time. It was no secret that Morgan did not get along with Astros manager Harry Walker – which might offer the opening the Howsam needed.

Howsam asked scout Ray Shore to look into the matter further and report back. Shore spent the last few weeks of the 1971 season with Astros, scouting Morgan. Shore knew everyone, and knew how to get the information he needed. One of his sources was Harry Kalas, a radio broadcaster for the Astros at the time. Kalas liked Morgan, thought him bright and competitive, and believed that Walker mismanaged him. Shore concluded that Morgan would be a great addition to the club.

Howsam’s scouts felt that the Astros were looking for power, and the Reds had three right-handed power hitters in Johnny Bench, Tony Perez, and Lee May. Bench was untouchable, and May was the one Howsam was willing to trade. He called up Astros general manager Spec Richardson and offered May for Morgan, straight up.

Richardson spent the next few weeks shopping Morgan around before getting back to the Reds. He asked to expand the deal by trading infielder Denis Menke for Tommy Helms (the Reds’ second baseman who would be displaced by Morgan).

download (14)Although Helms would be redundant, Howsam used this as an opportunity to get more players. This is where his scouts’ hard work paid off. Howsam asked for both Cesar Geronimo, a young centerfielder blocked by Cesar Cedeno, and Jack Billingham, a starting pitcher who had not broken into a deep Astros rotation. Richardson needed neither, as Howsam knew, but Spec felt he had to ask for utility man Jimmy Stewart. Realizing that the deal was just about done but always wanting one more player, Howsam said he’d agree if he could have young outfielder Ed Armbrister.

The deal was finalized at the winter meetings on November 29. 1971. May, Helms, and Stewart, for Morgan, Geronimo, Billingham, Menke, and Armbrister.

The reaction to the trade was mostly pro-Houston. May and Helms were very popular players in Cincinnati, while many observers thought of Morgan as a worse fielding version of Helms. This judgment would prove wildly incorrect. Over the next five seasons Morgan would be the best player in baseball, averaging .303 with a .431 on-base-percentage, 22 home runs, 113 runs, 62 steals, and winning four Gold Gloves. He had two spectacular MVP seasons in 1975 and 1976, capping off one of the best five-year peaks in baseball history, comparable to those of Willie Mays and Mickey Mantle.

Howsam later estimated that the Reds spent 3,000 man-hours working on the Astros deal, the equivalent of a single person working 40 hours a week for a year-and-a-half. The effort more than paid off for Howsam and his team.

 

What was missing in all of this strategizing and negotiating was any talk of money or salaries. Bob Howsam was a shrewd businessman on top of everything else, and would gladly exchange a veteran for an equally talented lower-cost solution. But in 1971 none of these players were making enough money to give any team pause, and the Reds likely did not increase their payroll with this deal. Forty years later, salaries and each player’s remaining years of control would be of paramount concern in any transaction, to say nothing of whether the players actually wanted to play for their new teams.

For anyone who grew up on the baseball of this time, it is easy to romanticize about how much better it might have been–to imagine your team trading their way to a pennant–without consideration for money or the people involved.

The Reds won the World Series in both 1975 and 1976, fittingly the last two years before free agency. Howsam later recalled a fleeting melancholy feeling in the winning locker room in 1976, knowing that no one would ever again be able to build a team the way he had.

 

Collective Bargaining Agreement (1968)

Part 14 of our series on Important Moments in Team Building.  See introduction, and up-to-date list.

 

Although the baseball team-building game had changed many times by the late 1960s, most of the changes were made to help the owners. With the amateur draft in place, what was essentially the only power a player had–selecting which team to sign with to begin his career–was now gone. The owners controlled the entire career. Players could theoretically “negotiate” their annual salaries, but if they showed up with a lawyer the owner would likely throw them both out of the office.

While the Major League Baseball Players Association was formally created in 1954, the players’ only substantive accomplishment in its first 12 years was its pension and benefit plan, first established in 1947 (by a pre-MLBPA group of players) and steadfastly maintained in the years since. The union took pride in its pension plan, and the players otherwise accepted their situation. They had a part-time lawyer for a while, but when he suggested to the owners that he wished to negotiate other issues, the owners told the players to get rid of him. They did.

The players then hired Robert Cannon, a personal friend of many of the owners, as a part-time legal advisor. Cannon was a Milwaukee judge who really wanted to be baseball commissioner. His strategy was to remind the players continually how well-treated they were and to ask for nothing from the owners.

download (1)The players’ pension plan had long been tied to revenue generated by the All-Star Game and World Series. As this pool continued to increase, the owners were becoming increasingly uncomfortable giving up so much money to the players, and the tensions related to this disagreement finally caused the players to hire a full-time executive director. After considering a few other candidates, including Cannon, the players ultimately hired Marvin Miller in the spring of 1966. To say this was a watershed moment is an extreme understatement. In 2016 the MLBPA publicly celebrated its 50th anniversary-–the pre-Miller days don’t even count.

The owners were not happy with the appointment of Miller, and they tried to torpedo it. “We could tell from the reaction of the owners that Marvin would be good for us,” iconoclast pitcher Jim Bouton later said. “They hated him. They were saying that he would bring in goons with bicycle chains and baseball bats, and there would be violence and strikes and pickets signs, and we didn’t need that in our union. And of course, we all realized that we did need that.” Miller told the players that his job was not to get along with the owners—his job was to advocate and fight for the players.

One significant thing the players did not have was a collective bargaining agreement, the sine qua non for any union worth its name. Marvin Miller’s goal, from his first day on the job, was to get the owners to agree to a CBA, which would recognize the union as the legal representative of the players, and would subject the relationship to federal labor laws.

Before the first CBA, the owners made all the rules and the players had no recourse. The minimum salary was $7,000, which had been raised once since the 1940s. And even that was squishy-–Bouton claimed in his book Ball Four that some players were given less than that and were scared to complain. The players might ask to raise the minimum salary, and the owners might say “no.” The conversation was over.

Nothing was written down anywhere. The players had spring training allowances and in-season meal allowances, but none of this was strictly enforced. Players were supposed to have travel paid for if they changed teams, but good luck getting the money. “Before the union came along,” said Joe Torre, “player reps used to ask about things like broken shower heads in certain clubhouses or getting more towels.”

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Curt Flood and Marvin Miller

After a year and a half of on-again, off-again negotiations, the first CBA was signed in February of 1968 and was in effect for two years. There were now two essential agreements covering the players: a CBA and a pension/benefit plan. The CBA increased the minimum salary to $10,000, standardized the base contract for the first time, increased meal allowances, and added schedule rules (for example: specifying how many days in a row a team could play).

 

The most important facet of the CBA was its mere existence. Miller recalled a 1966 meeting at which he mentioned that one team’s players were concerned they had a long stretch without an off day. Joe Cronin–the American League president and an early member of the Player Relations Committee–exploded at Miller about the schedule being the prerogative of the league office and who the hell does Miller think he is? Having scheduling rules, even minor ones, in the CBA established the precedent that the players had a voice in these matters.

Another vital component was the establishment of a grievance procedure, which Miller knew was a key component of CBAs of other industries. The procedure was very simple, merely requiring the player or union to fill out some paperwork and file it with the commissioner’s office. Commissioner William Eckert was the sole arbiter, which was not ideal, but the players won more often than not. In 1968, to cite one example, a few American League teams objected to staying in Baltimore’s substandard Lord Baltimore hotel and filed a grievance. Eckert ruled for the players.

Miller wanted the players to file grievances on everything–no matter how small–that violated the CBA. These victories, some for $25 or $50, led to increased compliance from the clubs and increased confidence by the players in their newfangled union.

The early CBAs were fairly short in duration–two or three years–because Miller believed each success was just a small victory in the larger battle. The 1968 CBA was a landmark, but Miller knew the struggle was just going to get tougher.

Compared with what was to come, the players had gained no real power over their careers. The pieces were starting to come in to place, though the owners were wholly unaware of it.

 

 

 

Amateur Draft (1965)

Part 13 of our series on Important Moments in Team Building.  See introduction, and up-to-date list.

 

“Pro football has a draft, and that cuts down bonus payments. [But] we want to encourage free enterprise on the part of everyone, including, of course, the kids themselves.” So said Joe Cronin, the general manager of the Red Sox in 1952. Indeed, the NFL had started its draft in 1936, and the NBA in 1947. Whatever you may think of the legalities or ethics of a draft, it remains a mystery why baseball did not get on board decades before they did. It is unlikely that the reason was either “encourage[ing] free enterprise”, or “the kids,” since they twice instituted bonus rules that fought against both.

When the free market of 1958 once again resulted in massive bonuses, it did not take long for owners to begin talk of a new rule. At the 1958 winter meetings the magnates tried it again, this time a little less obviously.

Reggie Smith1959-64. First-year player draft. This was not technically a bonus rule, since the policy affected all players whether they received a bonus or not. Every first-year player (with one year of professional experience) who was not placed on a 40-man roster was subject to a new December draft. The drafting team had to place the player on their 25-man roster and pay $15,000 to the draftee.

Despite bonuses not being part of the definition, the rule was clearly intended to curtail bonuses. A team would not want to give out too much money to amateur prospects if they were just going to lose the player a year later.

The details of the rule changed several times, but its effects became more dramatic starting in 1962 when the rule required that the first-year player (with one exception per team) be placed on the 25-man roster. Over the three drafts under this revised rule, many future big league stars changed teams, including Paul Blair, Lou Piniella, Jim Wynn, Bobby Tolan, Reggie Smith, and Rudy May, all left unprotected one year into their minor league careers. In addition, many players (like Tony Conigliaro) saw their big league careers fast-tracked so that they would not be subject to the draft.

Although there were likely fewer bonuses, the highest outlays kept growing. In June 1964 the Los Angeles Angels gave $200,000 to University of Wisconsin outfielder Rick Reichardt, which may have been the bonus that finally got the owners to throw up their hands.

1965-present.  Amateur draft.

ReichardtAt the 1964 winter meetings, the major league owners finally made the decision to create an amateur draft. In the succeeding five decades, the amateur draft has been the primary mechanism for major league teams to acquire high school and college players from the United States, Canada, and (as of 1990) US territories (such as Puerto Rico). Originally there were three drafts: the big one in June, one in August (for American Legion players who were still playing over the summer), and one in January (for those who finished high school or college in the fall. As of 1987, there is one draft.

The effect on team building was enormous. No longer could a team choose to open its wallet for a year or two to restock the system. Teams like the Yankees and Dodgers no longer had any advantage over the Senators and Phillies when it came to signing amateurs. Had the draft been in effect in 1964, Reichardt might have been the first pick (by the Mets or Senators) and would have had one offer to accept.

The profession of scouting changed dramatically. A Yankee scout in the 1950s was part salesman, selling an amateur on the glory and prestige of wearing pinstripes. Beginning in 1965, the players’ views on the matter were unimportant. The best players, certainly those selected in the first few rounds, were well known to every team. The job of the scout was the find good players and then lobby with his scouting director or general manager to draft them if they were available.

Although drafting high offers an obvious benefit, an advantage can still be achieved by uncovering and developing the right players. In the first 30 major league drafts, through 1994, a total of 86 selected players (just fewer than 3 per year) went on to put up 50 WAR (a top-flight star) in the big leagues. Many of these were taken in the top 10 picks (23 times), but 28 others were taken after the first four rounds. There were two in the first draft: Johnny Bench, taken in Round 2, and Nolan Ryan, taken in Round 12.

rick_monday_autographIn a typical draft, a single team will select (on average) 25 to 30 future WAR. If a team can beat that number over a period of several years they will almost always compete for multiple pennants a few years later. The Kansas City A’s were big spenders in the last few years of the free market (1962 through 1964) and then picked Rick Monday with the first pick in the first draft. They followed this up outstanding drafts the next two years. Besides Monday, they also drafted Sal Bando, Gene Tenace, Reggie Jackson, and Vida Blue in these years, and were one of the games dominant teams in the early 1970s.

The greatest single draft class was that of the 1968 Los Angeles Dodgers, who selected and signed 234 future WAR. This group included Ron Cey, Dave Lopes, Steve Garvey, Doyle Alexander, Joe Ferguson, Geoff Zahn, and Bill Buckner. The Dodgers top pick that year – Bobby Valentine – had a promising career snuffed out by an injury, but the depth of this draft remains unprecedented even decades later. The Dodgers had drafted Bill Russell, Charlie Hough, and Steve Yeager over the previous two years, and most of this group stayed together to help win four pennants and a World Series over an eight-year period.

For the past 50 years, many teams that have been successful over a period of years have had good drafts a few years prior. The advent of free agency and new player pools outside of America complicated the calculus somewhat, but the draft remains the biggest and best source of talent for big league baseball teams.