Becoming Mr. October (9780385533126) by Kevin Reggie; Baker Jackson Read Free Book Online

club they wanted.
    Naturally, the owners took it to court, forget about the independentarbitrator. They’d been fighting every case like it for more than fifty years. They ran Curt Flood out of baseball, rather than give in when he sued. He never got the credit he deserved for challenging the reserve clause all the way up to the Supreme Court. He stepped up years before everyone else. His timing wasn’t right, and he paid a terrible price for that. He got kicked to the curb, died a broken man. It was really a tragedy, and nobody came to his rescue. He just didn’t get the support from his own fraternity, us players.
    But now, in 1975, the owners lost. I remember it was right before we reported to spring training a federal judge upheld the decision by Seitz. McNally retired, but Messersmith signed a three-year deal with Ted Turner and the Braves, for a million dollars. Ooh—one million clams!
    The owners couldn’t believe it. They had no choice; they had to deal with us now. For the first time in more than eighty years, ballplayers had the same right that every other American citizen enjoys. That is, when his contract expires, he can go and work for whoever he pleases. It’s as simple as that—some still can’t accept it!
    Of course, the owners appealed again. It wasn’t until July 1976—mid-season—that we had a new agreement in place, setting up exactly how the free-agent system was going to work. But once that court ruling came down, we knew the world had changed forever.
    Under the agreement, you had to have six years in the majors to become a free agent. Marvin Miller put that in himself. Charlie Finley wanted to let everyone become a free agent every year. He was the smartest guy on the owners’ side at that time, because he knew that would have driven the price down. It would have been like Rotisserie baseball every season!
    Marvin was afraid the owners would go for that, but they didn’t. That meant Charlie Finley and the A’s just didn’t have the money to compete with the really deep-pocketed owners, people like the O’Malleys in Los Angeles, or Bronfman in Montreal, or Tom Yawkey up in Boston—or George and his Yankees. Charlie had a small-marketteam that didn’t draw well even when it won, and small cash reserves—hardly any local TV or radio revenues. He couldn’t keep the team together any longer.
    You knew intellectually what would change, but still you weren’t prepared. I knew what the arbitrator’s ruling meant; I knew what the court decisions meant. I knew what getting rid of the reserve clause meant. But I still didn’t expect it to change anything for me. I was in spring training; I was still ticked off at losing in arbitration and Charlie Finley giving me that $2,500 off the books, like he was tipping the groundskeeper. I was preoccupied with that and getting ready for the season.
    Then, a week from Opening Day, it came down. I remember it was the first or second day of April. I was driving in my car, and I heard it first on the radio. Me, Kenny Holtzman, and a young pitcher named Bill VanBommel were traded to Baltimore for Don Baylor, Mike Torrez, and Paul Mitchell.
    Finley had started unloading his players, and Kenny and I were first. Before two more seasons had passed, we were all gone—Rudi, Campy, Sal Bando, Vida Blue, Tenace, Garner, Washington, Billy North. And almost every one of us went to teams that went on to win still more rings, or that at least became contenders overnight. It was like we were the magic A’s.
    But we would never play together again. Just like that, everything we’d done, everything we built, was over. It broke my heart. I was still in the prime of my career, didn’t know what “traded” meant! You can still see it in the pictures of me at the time. I had no idea what was going to happen; Finley never said a word to me. I was walking around in shock.
    As I look back, I can see he was trying to protect his investment. But ultimately, Charlie still