Saving Baseball: The Affordable Baseball Act

by Going Down Swinging Philly…

The year was 2075 and baseball was on the rocks. Salaries were out of control, ticket prices were to the moon, and the stands were virtually empty. Baseball was on the verge of collapse.

So it was no surprise when in March of 2075, just as spring training was getting underway, the federal government stepped in to deal with the crisis. No one objected with Washington getting involved because quite frankly, the government was involved with just about every other aspect of American life by now. They had already taken over the banks, the airline business, and of course the insurance and healthcare industries as well. Besides: baseball is the American pastime, and without it, there would be no more America. At least, that’s how they saw it back at the swamp.

It was called the Affordable Baseball Act of 2075, and the crisis was so severe that the new law was passed immediately, without debate, and enacted in time for Opening Day. Here’s how the whole thing played out.

By the year 2075, baseball player salaries had reached such epidemic proportions that ticket prices were in the thousands. Regular people could no longer afford to go to the ballpark, and all tickets now went to rich people and large corporations. Not only did this shut the average American out, it made for horrible TV. Even as ticket sales were brisk, night after night, the stands were more than half empty. Why was this? Because corporations only bought the tickets to win over clients. In reality, they rarely used them. Same thing with rich people, who only bought them to impress their friends, but seldom went to the games themselves. It was depressing, to say the least.

So, to remedy the situation, Congress approved tax credits for everyday fans. Such credits would cover not only sky-high ticket costs, but carry with them a stipend for hot dogs, cotton candy, soft drinks, and cold beer. Average Americans couldn’t have been happier.

While the Affordable Baseball Act did indeed give baseball back to the people, it gave no relief for the owners themselves, who, after having to cover their star players astronomical salaries, not only were left broke, they were making less than their third basemen. Leave it to big government to offer another solution.

Subsidies. For the owners. That’s right. Now no longer having to foot the bill, owners had no qualms about paying those outrageous salaries for their marquis players. The players themselves couldn’t have been happier, and of course, as for the fans, a new amendment to the Affordable Baseball Act even provided for free programs, t-shirts, and baseball caps. Not cheapo caps, but the good ones, just like the players wear.

The whole thing went over like gangbusters. Especially for upper management. Just to give you an idea how high prices went in the following years, how’s about $5000 per ticket? And that’s just for a general admission seat. Add tax credits to that, and the average fan was only paying, on average, $15 per ticket. For many, it was completely free of charge. What a deal!

How about this? Cokes: $100. Hot dogs: $125. And cold beer? Cold beer was the best deal of all at a mere $200 per. But for those who qualified: Free, Free, and Free again. Price was no object? Just put it on the government tab. As for the owners: they were happier than pigs in shit. Remember, everything was subsidized now, from players salaries to concessions and goodies like hankies, bobble heads, and those adorable little baseball bats. The fat cats up in the luxury suites never had it so good.

Life was good in the new baseball seasons of our delusion, that is until the bills started coming in. In the year 2079, that’s when the real squeeze play happened. As subsidies started drying up, it was up to a special panel, assembled by Congress itself, to make the tough calls on exactly what was important, and what was not. It was called the 10^th Inning Panel, and it went like this:

It was the last half of the fifth inning in the 2080 season with the Toronto Blue Jays leading the Minnesota Twins 8-0 when suddenly the game was called. Just stopped right then and there. There was little to no chance for the lowly Twins to make a comeback. It’s not like the 1952 Chicago Cubs came back against the Cincinnati Reds after trailing 8-2 in the ninth with two outs to win 9-8, or the 1929 Philadelphia A’s overcame an 8-0 deficit to those same Cubs, scoring 10 runs in the seventh. Nah, that never happened. The main thing was, calling the game saved hundreds of thousands of dollars in concession subsidies. And that was just the beginning.

The panel then decided, if rationing worked within the context of a single game, why not apply it to a season? In 2080, the New York Mets were 12 games out of first at the All-star break when all of a sudden their season was cancelled. Why not? Forget all about the fact that in 1978 the New York Yankees were 14 1/2 games behind the Boston Red Sox at mid-season, but came back to tie them on the last day and win the division in a one-game, winner-take-all at Fenway, then go on to win the World Series after trailing the LA Dodgers two games to none. Forget about all that because that hardly ever happens.

Forget about the 2004 Boston Red Sox, who came back from 3-0 down to the New York Yankees, then went on to win the World Series, overcoming an 86-year drought and the Curse of the Bambino himself. Forget about all that because that never happened before, and odds were it would never happen again.

Remember instead that half a season for perennial losers like the Seattle Mariners, including ticket prices, players’ salaries, and fan giveaways, might cost upwards of half a billion dollars in the year 2080. Add that up by kicking out all the stragglers half way through the season, and that’s billions in savings. Why not? It’s just good policy. Besides, everyone knows that miracles don’t really happen.

In the years to come, with only about a quarter of the games being completed and half the teams told to take their balls and go home after mid-season, baseball began losing popularity. Big name athletes, forced to sit out half the time (with their salaries cut in half) decided to just move on to other sports like football and soccer, extreme fighting and even professional wrestling. Why not? The money was good, and after all, they weren’t married to baseball, they just wanted to be rich and famous athletes.

As revenues fell, the owners (who remember had been happy as pigs in shit) found themselves up to their eyeballs in muck. With subsidies shrinking, stadiums became dilapidated, and once proud monuments like AT&T Park and Busch Stadium were changed to Bubble Yum Field and Desenex Park.

With crowds shrinking and ticket prices soaring again, the government knew it had to step in and save the day. A new baseball czar was appointed and his first act was to halt all concession-stand sales after the third inning. This was sure to stabilize ticket prices and save millions in taxpayer dollars, and people in 2080 America were too fat anyway. Especially baseball people.

But these actions did not hold ticket prices down. So in the end, the government reluctantly stepped in and took over baseball altogether. With full government control, prices were fixed, players salaries were capped, tuna salad and green tea replaced hot dogs and cold beer, and baseball was indeed saved.

Back in the swamp, back slappers congratulated one another for the great work they had done, then moved on to another growing concern in the year 2081: the movie industry. Not only had movies become too expensive for the average American to afford, salaries for its biggest stars were out of control. Besides, there were at least a few swamp dwellers who thought they could do just as well up there on the silver screen, and now seemed like just as good a time as any to get into the act.

As for baseball, the government really did save it. Let us not discount the Washington’s role in the whole affair. Of course, major league baseball is not what it used to be. These days it’s more like the Mexican league, with dirty uniforms, scant women trolling the dugout, and more beer bellies on the field than in the stands.

You can always check out a game though, whether it be at Rogaine Field or Preparation H Park. Ticket prices are affordable. The tuna salad might smell a little funny, but the tea washes it down. And you might even enjoy the game, if you don’t mind a drunken brawl breaking out during the seventh-inning stretch. What does it matter anyway? It’s baseball, it’s available, and it’s the great American pastime. Thank you Washington DC, for saving baseball. I don’t know what we would have done without you.

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Saving Baseball is the latest in the Flashbytes series from worst-selling author Philip Loyd. Subtitled: The Affordable Baseball Act, Loyd apparently came up with the idea while bored out of his mind at a baseball game one day, sitting on a donut cushion and irritated to no end that his doctor still could not help with his hemorrhoids.

T Philly Loyd loves fat chicks and cheap beer, though not necessarily in that order. He has worked for Forbes and McGraw Hill, both times running for his life as if waking up from a nightmare. His dream is to one day move to Hollywood, take up serial killing, and walk away with a Razzie. Until then, he lives with his mom in Dumbass, Texas.