It's Time For The Fans To Strike Back


It's happening again, and this time we should refuse
to sit back and watch, angry but powerless, as
millionaires argue with billionaires over the fate of 
our game.

Our game.  Not theirs. Ours.

The anger has been building for almost a year.
Immediately, it seemed, after the conclusion of last
year's exhilarating World Series, lines were drawn in
the sand. "Contraction! We must have Contraction to
survive!", roared the owners through their current
mouthpiece.  "We will never accept a salary cap!", 
bellowed the players.  But we could see through the
posturing to the cold, unenlightened selfishness that
motivated them.  The pure Greed.

How could they do this so soon after September 11th?
Couldn't they see how the game helped our spirits
heal?  How it allowed us to focus on something else.
Anything else.  Something that carries with it
tradition and history.  Something that drew us
together each night when the darkness and fear
threatened to overwhelm us.

So what can we do to show them that the game does not
belong to them.  That they are only this generation's
stewards, whose job is to protect the game and pass on
its traditions.

A Pre-emptive Strike.  

On August 29th, there should be no one in the stands.
Not a single person.  Let that image be forever burned
into the minds of those who would toy with the fans
whose hard earned money pays all the bills.  The
owners should look down from their luxury suites to
desolate stadiums.  The players should look up to
thousands and thousands of empty seats.  Let the
echoes of the game, bat against ball, ball against
leather, be the only sounds heard that day in the
emptiness.  

Can we make this happen?  A fan's strike?  I'm sure
the owners and players don't think so.  They say all
the right things when the cameras are on. "We can't
take the fans for granted."   But their actions tell
the real story.  "If we strike, they'll come back. 
They always do."

But I believe we can do it.  In a week.  Because
America was built on seizing challenges and making
them happen.  Because I believe average Americans are
tired of being taken for granted by the rich and the
powerful.  There is a growing sense in this country
that there are two sets of rules.  One set for you and
I, and one for those in the luxury suites of life.

But also because I understand the power of the
Internet.  You see, I'm a math professor and each
semester I explain to my students about exponential
growth.  That's what the Internet provides.  The Net
was never about selling widgets.  It is a living,
breathing communication network with exponential
growth capability. One person with an idea talking to
two, those two talk to four, four to eight, eight to
sixteen, and so on, and so on.....

A thousand years from now, when historians look back
and try to distill the essence of the American spirit
in the 20th century, it's possible they will focus on
two things: the Internet and Jazz.  Information
flowing on the Net reminds me of the best of Jazz.  An
idea, a theme, a riff, is generated.  The next person
picks it up and enhances it.  Puts a bit of themselves
into it.  Changes it where it needs changing, allowing
the freedom of creativity to take over.  Moving the
theme where it needs to go.

It's all about freedom.  Not complete freedom.  With
complete freedom you don't get Jazz.  You get noise.
Structured Freedom.  Jazz and the Net are the essence
of the American spirit because they capture that idea.

So this letter is my riff.  If it says something to
you, send it wherever you want. (No spam, please. 
Spam is Net noise.)  Add to it.  Subtract from it.
Make it your riff.  Then send it to someone who you
think cares about sports in this country.  Make sure
you send it to the talk radio folks, so it gets into
the analog world.  We wouldn't want to leave them out.
 If you're lucky enough to live in a town with a
baseball team, start organizing.  We don't have much
time, but we can do it.  I'm sending this out on the
21st, Wednesday morning.  By Friday, if the idea
captures your attention, it should be everywhere. 
There are ten games scheduled for next Thursday,
including one in Toronto.  Make sure you send it to
our good friends to the North.  I hope they get in on
this, too.

Some may ask why I'm trying to do this.  

I'm doing this for my father, who taught me how to
throw and catch.  Who told me stories about going to
see Babe Ruth at old Comiskey Park.  My brother Tim,
my dad, and I would sit in the garage (so he could
smoke his cigars) and watch games on the tube.  It was
good quality time, as they say.  My dad passed away a
month ago.  I'm doing it for him.

I'm doing it for my sons, Chris and Nick.  I coached
my older son Chris as he grew up and watched with
pride as he learned the facets of the game.  We won
the Winter Park (FL) Little League championship when
he was eleven.  After he played his last American
Legion game, I walked up, looked him in the eye, shook
his hand, and struggled with my emotions.  I'm
coaching my younger son Nick now.  I feel extremely
fortunate to be able to watch again as another son of
mine grows into the game.  His swing reminds me of his
brother's.

Finally, selfishly, I'm doing this for me.  I love the
game and want to prevent the idiots in charge from
ruining it.  I grew up in the Tampa Bay area, with all
that wonderful youth baseball around me.  I graduated
from Jesuit High in 1975, after Lou Piniella, before
Dave Magadan, and down the street from Wade Boggs at
Plant High.  I bring up Boggs because I was a great
fan of his throughout his career.  I was lucky enough
to be there with Nick when Boggs went deep for his
3000th hit at Tropicana Field (Chris was,
unfortunately, out of town).  Nick and I screamed, and
yelled, and hugged when he knocked it into the right
field stands and trotted joyfully, spinning around the
bases.  I held him on my shoulders so he could see as
Wade bent to kiss the plate.  It was a moment that
brought out the best of baseball.

So will it happen?  A fan's strike.  I don't know, but
if it does, I have a few requests. You can change
whatever you want with this letter, but keep these
attached.

I hope people gather outside the stadiums and
spontaneous celebrations break out.  I hope there is
music playing.  The celebrations, above all, must be
peaceful.

I hope that before the first pitch people get together
and sing the National Anthem loud enough for the
stadiums to shake.  The Anthem shouldn't be a
performance by one singer.  It should be sung by
everyone.  I hope that in Toronto they sing "Oh,
Canada" just as loud as we sing the "Star Spangled
Banner".

I hope that in the middle of the 7th, at the nine
American cities, the folks sing "America the
Beautiful".  I hope in Toronto they sing something, as
well.  Something that brings the people together.  I
hope, as we sing "..from sea to shining sea." the
owners and the players are listening.

I hope they understand.