Kornheiser is a nationally-known columnist and author.
Money Talks, Nobody's
Listening
By Tony Kornheiser
Tuesday, October 27,
1998; Page E01
The NBA season was
supposed to open one week
from today. But the
commissioner has already
canceled two weeks of the
season because the
owners and the players
are locked in a bitter
dispute about how many
Range Rovers can fit on
the head of a pin.
This is a fight between
tall millionaires and
short millionaires. As
such it's rather hard for
most of us to have a
rooting interest in who
wins. As my friend, the
Chicago sportswriter Sam
Smith, says, "It is like
watching two limousines
collide. One guy gets out
of the back seat of one
limo complaining that he
spilled his glass of
Lafitte-Rothschild wine
in the collision. And the
guy from the other limo
gets out, mortified that
his gold Rolex was
scratched."
Ah, the problems of the
rich.
And make no mistake:
These are rich people.
The ones yelling the
loudest about the need
for all the players to
stick together and fight
the power -- Patrick
Ewing, Alonzo Mourning,
David Robinson, Juwan
Howard -- are the
richest. They each make
more than 10 million
dollars a year! They
could have their salaries
cut in half, and still
afford to order dinner in
every night. From Paris.
Didn't you love it when
Ewing said, "We're
fighting for our
livelihood. We cannot
survive if we sign this
contract."
Give me a break. What are
we supposed to do,
organize a bake sale for
Shawn Kemp?
Let me know when you see
Ewing on the side of a
highway with a sign that
says, "Will dunk for
food."
More than half the
players in the NBA are
paid at least $1.3
million a year. That's
$25,000 a week. The
average salary is $2.6
million, which is $50,000
a week. A week!
If you didn't save any of
that, you're an idiot.
For those of you who
aren't familiar with the
technicalities of the
dispute between owners
and players, it revolves
around the centerpiece
"Larry Bird exception."
This refers to a loophole
in the normal salary cap
structure giving each
owner the ability to go
far beyond the cap to pay
his favorite players, and
keep them on his team.
Years ago the Boston
Celtics were permitted to
give Larry Bird a
gazillion dollars to keep
him from seeking a deal
with another team. The
reason this happened is
that Larry Bird was the
last great white player,
and everybody wanted him,
so an exception was made.
Now there are no great
white players, so the
owners want to get rid of
"Bird."
But the players' union is
working on a pill that
will turn other players
white and make the Larry
Bird exception viable
again.
Excuse me, Tony, but
you're kidding with that
explanation, right?
Sure, whatever.
At the moment the owners
have the upper hand
because the players
aren't getting paid. This
is a terrible predicament
for the players, who are
feeling a cash-flow
pinch. Yesterday, the New
York Times reported that
Boston's Kenny Anderson
pays $75,000 a year to
insure his eight luxury
automobiles. But in these
harsh times Anderson sees
the need for fiscal
responsibility. "I've got
to get tight," he said.
This raises the
possibility Anderson
could, at great personal
sacrifice, decide he
needs only seven cars.
There are owners braying
about wanting to keep the
players locked out all
season. But that is
bluster, and they know
it. Because if the NBA
shuts down the full year,
who knows how many people
will want to see it next
year? Maybe people will
finally decide that $300
for a family of four to
see Milwaukee-Sacramento
is preposterous. Then
what happens to the worth
of your franchise? You're
left holding a bag of
beans. Short term, the
players have the most to
lose. But long term, the
owners do. And heaven
help them when Michael
Jordan leaves the NBA.
Does the word
"Hindenburg" mean
anything to you?
The great news about this
standoff is you can root
against everybody
involved: the owners, the
players, the agents; oh,
especially one agent in
town who once boasted of
a fantastically expensive
sports coat he owned that
was made from the beard
of a certain kind of
goat, cadged by hand from
the berry patches where
the goat grazed. My
feeling is that anybody
who owns a coat like that
is making far too much
money.
We have reached a unique
time in sports.
Previously, it had been
impossible to convince us
that owners deserve our
sympathy in any dispute
with players. But most of
us now feel players make
too much money. And as if
to help drive home that
very point, last week
more than 240 NBA players
-- crying poverty every
step of the way --
convened in the city
symbolic of poverty,
chastity and humility --
Las Vegas!
Although the players put
up a brave front of
solidarity in Las Vegas,
nobody is going to the
barricades. Brinkmanship
talk from both sides
about canceling the
season is all wind. Where
are the players going? If
they don't play
basketball, it's not like
there's going to be a run
on dorm space at MIT. The
most ominous sound of all
is the silence from
millions of fans who've
turned away from the
collision of these two
limousines.
My guess is that the
season will start right
around Christmas Day,
which is when NBC is
scheduled to broadcast
its first NBA game this
season. NBC is
bankrolling the owners,
and nobody likes to pay
something for nothing.
NBC's Dick Ebersol is the
most important player in
this game, not David
Stern or Billy Hunter.
One morning Ebersol is
going to wake up and want
to see Michael Jordan
play basketball on TV.
Unlike the rest of us, he
can make it happen.
© Copyright 1998 The
Washington Post Company