One of the things about labour strife in pro sports that is hardest for fans to deal with is the way a strike or lockout shatters “the illusion.”
Sports, to most fans, is an alternate world where their troubles can’t intrude. Take a break from the boss. Don’t deal with that nagging, growing, uncomfortable incompatability with whomever you happen to be locking lips with this year.
But, of course, any alternate metaphor for life is going to include all the angst, anguish and emotion of the real thing (whatever that may be).
[PRBREAK][/PRBREAK] The deal, though, is that the games go on. Or, that used to be the deal before all these strikes started happening. Baseball in 1981 was an apocalypse for me. After the 1994 ball strike, I never went back.
TFC supporter group U-Sector has cancelled the Boston trip. The “Goodbye Columbus” tour buses have been parked, because no one knows with any honesty if the New England-Toronto FC match is going to be played – ever.
And now we hear that all but two players in the entire league support a strike. The number is statistically impossible, and as much as I hate to ever agree with Bill Archer, I always find it significant when I do.
So as I wake up this morning – awaiting French toast and bacon in my new, warm and beloved second home – I’m ready to call shenanigans on the whole rotten mess.
So a bunch of modestly talented players who mostly only have jobs because Our Little League tightly restricts the market for their services want to lay down their ankle tape, endangering the start of a 16-team, seven-month race for eighth place?
Go for it!
Folks, I’m not a union guy, and never have been. Liberal as all get out, but I’ve always, always, always made my own deals. I don’t like market restrictions, whether they come from ownership or labour. I’m glad MLS has found a way to survive, but if there’s nothing in this new agreement to let teams spend some of their own money to uneven the playing field a little, I’m afeared I may be approaching my limit.
Walk out, lads. Get whatever concessions you can. It doesn’t look like a real league is going to be with us anytime ever. If the little tree that is Major League Soccer is as rooted to its structure as every so-called expert keeps telling me it is, then by all means, give the thing a shake.
But damn it all, get on with it! These precious days before a new season begins are a sacred time for us fans. Anything can still happen. Anyone can still win. The regrettable fact that, in MLS, that will still be true in September doesn’t alter the illusion. This time of year is for US!
So go back your demand for slightly guaranteed contracts and modest, nearly meaningless free agency. At least make it look to those who might still sympathize that you’re not going down without a kitten fit.
It’s mid-March, and I want my bland, drab little soccer league.
Life can’t be all love and French toast, after all.
Onward!