A-Rod's new deal no cause for alarm

"These signings have sent shockwaves through the industry. This club is no longer a doormat in the free agent field." Strong words—but who can blame newly anointed Pirates Manager Lloyd McClendon for uttering them? His club had just signed journeyman pitcher Terry Mulholland and the aging, generously pantalooned Derek Bell. The signings will not do for Pittsburgh what the recent acquisition of shortstop Alex Rodriguez will do for Texas, but, in the sharply stratified economics of today's game, McClendon could have expected little more from his fledgling franchise.

COURTESY AROD.COM Promised $252 million over the next decade, A-Rod is set to become one of the richest athletes ever.

Without a doubt, Rodriguez is the true "shockwave," and players and agents alike hope to ride this wave to payoffs that would make the average American—heck, even the average Goldman Sachs partner—shudder with disgust. Rodriguez's 10-year, $252 million contract is not only the richest in baseball history, but also the richest in sports history. Granted, Rodriguez instantly becomes Texas' leader on offense in every major category (even stolen bases), and his stellar play at shortstop easily eclipses the unspectacular work of the ousted Royce Clayton. But for the money A-Rod will be making, the Rangers could have signed Mike Mussina, Mike Hampton, and even Denny Neagle. With those three aces, the Rangers would have been instant World Series contenders. They might even have added to last year's total of 71 wins—two more than Pittsburgh registered.

As it is, the Rangers will certainly be, as President Jim Lites coldly puts it, "a better product." But they won't win the Series for the same reason that other players will not ride the A-Rod train all the way to the bank: Rodriguez's greatest value is as an entertainer, not a player. Mussina and Neagle have their strange windups, and Mike Hampton has this funny way of bending the brim of his hat—not exactly a reason to call in sick and corral the wife and kids over to Texas Stadium. But Rodriguez is young, handsome, and tremendously well-spoken, with an utterly clean life off the field and the uncanny ability to say the right thing at the right time, all the time. Rangers General Manager Doug Melvin signed A-Rod with an NBA mentality: market the player, not the team. As Texas designated hitter Rafael Palmeiro asserted, Rodriguez single-handedly puts the Rangers "on a different echelon with the great teams in baseball." So what if the final standings from 2001 don't look so hot? After years of fading down the stretch and playing little brother to the Dallas Cowboys in the media, the Rangers suddenly look like a glamour franchise.

This attempt to invert the consummate team sport may trouble some baseball loyalists. More importantly, it may trouble Rangers fans who now will have to pay an average of two dollars more for their already high-priced tickets. But fans losing sleep over the contract's economic effects need a psychologist, not a salary cap. One always hates to say this, but Rodriguez's agent, Scott Boras, was right: we will likely never see such an attractive free agent again in our lifetimes. Similarly, relative to other athletes' salaries, we may never see such a large contract either. Pittsburgh may never be able to sign another player like A-Rod, but neither will anyone else.

Rodriguez knows this. Shortly after his signing, he told the press he did not expect fellow shortstop Derek Jeter to enjoy a similar payoff following arbitration with the Yankees. Significantly, this remark met no visible consternation from Jeter or the normally vicious New York media. Although Jeter stands as one of the few players that possess Rodriguez's marketability, A-Rod remains a superior overall package when compared to any other free-agent in baseball. Past free agent signees that appeared to herald the end of baseball—Reggie Jackson, José Canseco, and Kevin Brown—were either showboats or surly and abrasive. For all of his immodesty, Rodriguez surpasses all of these elite players in likeability and common sense.

Of course, Rodriguez is neither a package nor a commodity. He is a man—a relatively normal and likeable one by all accounts—who has, overnight, become a vessel for the fears and anxieties of every owner and fan, and the hopes and dreams of one city and one franchise. But he is merely one player in this increasingly bloated production, not its principal author. Nevertheless, as salaries and player-owner tensions crest with the Rodriguez contract, two waves of hype have begun to flow. One consists of rabid A-Rod fans from Texas who love his smooth talking and smoother skin; the other consists of owners crying foul over the admittedly huge economic risk the Rangers have taken. The savvy baseball fan will ride neither.

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