Money man: A-Rod wants cash over playing time
Fri, Aug 2, 2013
Alex Rodriguez's
associates like to tell stories about Alex and his money, how it's at
the root of this whole mess he's in now, how all this talk about his
love of baseball and desire to be a role model for his children is a
smokescreen for the greed that consumes him. He's made $315 million
playing baseball, and that's not enough.
This always was going to be about the money, you know. Some of
Some of it vanished in real-estate deals gone bad. More
of it disappeared as it tends to when entourages swell and ten grand
here or a hundred grand there is like the rest of us tossing a couple
bucks into the Salvation Army kettle at Christmas. A-Rod is still filthy
rich, in no financial danger whatsoever, but that's not the point. He
wants more. He always wants more.
In this case, he wants to salvage as much as he can of the $100 million or so remaining on his contract with the New York Yankees before Major League Baseball
disciplines him for using performance-enhancing drugs, lying about it
and a litany of other offenses. That – not this cockamamie burning
desire to come back and play baseball – is the grand imperative of his
haggling sessions with MLB,
two associates of Rodriguez's told Yahoo! Sports. He wants to take his
money, he wants to screw the Yankees because he feels like they ditched
him and he wants to become a property mogul, buying and selling,
wheeling and dealing, away from the sport that turned on him despite
everything he did for it.
Such myopia is only one of the variables as Rodriguez goes into the
biggest weekend of his professional life, one that will help determine
the prism through which the public ultimately views his career. Already
he has cemented his reputation as a cheater, a narcissist and a clown,
all well-earned. If he chooses to keep fighting – calls Bud Selig's
bluff of a lifetime ban, takes the route of lawsuits and appeals and
mass chaos, and prolongs this foul state of affairs any further – he
will fall into the same category as Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens and
the rest of the players who rage, rage against the dying of the light,
only to see it go darker than they could've imagined.
It's one reason Selig has turned
into a 79-year-old mob boss: All of this makes him and his sport look
bad. Selig is behind the lifetime ban. Not his attack-dog lawyers who
have done a brilliant job ferreting out the truth behind baseball's
lurid association with the Biogenesis clinic in south Florida that
peddled the PEDs. Not the Yankees and their desire to wriggle out of the
money they foolishly promised to A-Rod
through his 42nd birthday. This is Selig's doing, and he's dangerously
close to a precipice that no commissioner should approach.
If his threats to invoke a best-interests-of-baseball clause to
suspend Rodriguez are more than a bargaining chip – if Selig truly
believes Rodriguez deserves banishment for activities that, though
egregious, aren't so much worse than others caught using PEDs – he is
making a monumental mistake. Baseball's joint drug agreement is in place
to discipline players. To step around that – to subvert due process –
would be an insult to every player in the union and an act of labor war.
It's dangerous beyond that. The
only way Rodriguez comes out of this with even a shred of sympathy is if
Selig overreaches, and booting A-Rod from the game certainly would
constitute that. It's such a disturbing threat that deep down, for the
sake of reminding MLB
that it does not unilaterally run this game, one hopes A-Rod appeals
and shoves it to someone who got even more greedy than him.
Even if the chances of a lifetime ban holding up in front of an
arbitrator are slim, Rodriguez is businessman enough to know that it
likely would end up reduced to around what MLB would settle at these
days – somewhere in the vicinity of 150 to 200 games – and that the risk
of potentially forfeiting all $100 million is not worth the reward of a
fight with an indeterminate ending. So we are left with a story that
features two central characters, neither of whom could be called a
protagonist: the suit trying to remedy his past blindness by
overcompensating with the deft touch of a jackhammer and the ballplayer
who sort of wants to play ball but really wants to grab his cash and run
away from this inferno of fraud that he set ablaze.
Within the next 72 hours, Alex Rodriguez
will make his choice to fight or surrender. For a while now, one person
close to him has suggested that his decision-making skills are so bad
that they oughta let ol' Mr. Murphy off the hook and make it A-Rod's
Law: whatever can go wrong will go wrong. No matter what he chooses, the
truth is it already has.
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