ELItorial: Money can't buy me love

By Alison Morris

Dawn is barely breaking over the icy hills, and a steady snow is falling onto the frozen ground. A young boy peers out of a frost-covered window and wipes the sleep from his eyes. He rushes out of the warmth of his home into the early morning cold. Stumbling over mounds of snow nearly up to his waist, he almost drops the heavy bag that weighs down his back. He stops and topples to the ground. He looks out at the ice before him and a smile works its way across his entire face. He rushes to lace up his skates and, stick in hand, he bounds onto the frozen lake.

The world around him is fast asleep. Moments like this, alone on the lake at dawn, are the most treasured of all. He bounds from end to end, pretending to be The Great One. He fakes once, twice, and scores the winning goal in the last game of the Stanley Cup Finals. The young hockey player practices for hours with dreams in his head of the day when he will skate with the game's best. He skates until his legs ache and his frozen hands are numb, all for the love of the game.

Not once during those many hours on the ice do his thoughts drift to money or power, contracts or endorsements. He does not dream of being the richest man in the sport, nor does he want to land a million-dollar marketing contract. Driven by a passion for the sport he loves, all he wants to do is play.

This pure passion for the sport lasts but a short while. It won't be long before the coaches come to watch the young phenom play. They'll lure him with promises of stardom and junior league contracts. He'll have to find an agent to work out the most profitable deal. There won't be any more peaceful morning practices on the snow-covered lake, no more dreams of playing among his idols. Passion and dedication will no longer be the resounding words. Instead, money will become the name of the game.

This is what has become of professional sports today. In developing the business of sports, we have created a monster. We have formed a snowball that is growing bigger as it rolls out of control. This year in particular, it is evident we have let the business of sports go too far. The NBA nearly had to call off its 1998-99 season. Why? Because players' salaries have gotten so high that teams can barely afford to maintain their payrolls. While the fans who love basketball sat on their couches, tore up their season tickets, and cancelled plans to head to the All-Star Game, players and management stood with locked horns. Some took vacations to the Bahamas, others stayed at home, but one thing was certain: they did not even bother to meet every day. So much for the love of the game.

This season in the National Hockey League, Islanders star Zigmund Palffy refused to return to the team until he was offered a contract with just the right number of dollar signs. He sat out nearly three months, waiting for management to throw on an extra million. Without their leader, the Islanders plummeted to the bottom of the league as home attendance dropped by the thousands. So much for the love of the game.

Given, professional sports cannot function and prosper without the guidelines of business tactics, contracts, and salaries. But they should be exactly that: guidelines. When we allow them to dominate pro sports, we lose what is truly important. The competition on the playing field, not the battle across the boardroom table, is what should count. The players' skill in the last minutes of the deciding game of the season is what should count, not the agents' prowess in settling contract disputes in the final hours.

In the past we honored professional sports for their sheer demonstration of talent, passion, dedication, and skill--it seems little of that exists anymore. Like everything else in life, the world of sports has been tainted by the desire for money. Instead of seeing stars, young athletes see dollar signs. How can they learn otherwise when the players they idolize provide them with no better examples? While athletes and owners fight out contract disputes, fans who have spent their hard-earned money to watch the teams they love remain empty-handed. It makes me wonder if there is anyone left who plays only for the love of the game.

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