There’s s rich list of names and dates that are a part of Jacksonville’s baseball history: Henry Aaron 1953, Tom Seaver 1966, The Bragan’s 1984, Alex Rodriguez 1994 and even 2019 as current All-Stars Brad Hand, J.T. Realmuto, Christian Yelich and Clayton Kershaw all spent time In town during their ascent to the Majors.

But there’s an untold story about the 1973 season makes much of that list possible.

Since building the Baseball Grounds in 2003, fans have flocked downtown to see baseball games. But in 1972, baseball in Jacksonville was anything but a foregone conclusion.

“We had to borrow $75,000 from the parent club, the Kansas City Royals in ‘72 to stay in business,” former Suns General Manager Dick Kravitz recalled.

You might know Kravitz from his political career on the Jacksonville City Council and in the Florida House of Representatives. Before that, Kravitz was the GM of the baseball Suns, the football Express of the World Football League and the soccer Tea Men of the North American Soccer League. He also served the City of Jacksonville as the Executive Director of the Sports and Entertainment Commission during the Godbold administration.

After getting his undergrad at Temple, Kravitz went to Ohio University to get his masters in sports administration. He then went to work as the business manager in Oklahoma City for the Kansas City Royals’ AAA ball club. They asked him to come to Jacksonville the next year to run the Suns under new ownership.

“They told me we needed to pay back the $75,000 that year or we’d be out of business,” Kravitz said of his charge for the season. “We had four employees, including me, and we all did double duty.”

Ownership was two investors from Oklahoma City; Keith Price was in the oil business, and banker Carl Grant. They were anything but absent.

“Price liked to come to games and watch from upstairs,” Kravitz recalled. “It was wild. He got thrown out of a game from the press box for arguing with the umpire. The ump sent a policeman to he press box and he physically threw him out of the ballpark.”

The business plan was simple: Raise as much money as possible and spend as little as possible. They started selling sponsorships and season ticket packages in the fall of 1972.

And it wasn’t easy.

“We had to fight against what had happened before. Some people wouldn’t even talk to us,” Kravitz said of the business climate regarding minor league baseball in Jacksonville at the time.

They sold five sponsorship nights to Prudential. They had a cow-milking contest that included one of the players with some farm experience. “Rocky Gibraltar” was a regular promotion, throwing a ball into a replica of the famous Rock. Kravitz even arranged for one of his players to race a horse in the outfield.

“We were playing a day game and I knew we needed a promotion,” he explained. “So I tried to ask one of our players, Minnie Minoso’s son, if he’d race a horse. He didn’t speak any English and I didn’t speak any Spanish and I couldn’t find an interpreter. But I pulled out a $100 bill and he eventually figured out what I was asking. He said he would so I went to Bayard where they were running quarter horses at the time and we set up the race, foul line to foul line. A handicapper gave Minoso a head start. And he was winning but heard a thousand pound of horse coming and jumped out of the way!”

It was an uphill battle, even facing the weather. Because of a lack of staff to put the tarp on and off the field, the city provided eight workers out of the daily labor pool to do the job. They weren’t very skilled at handling the tarp and the team had 14 rainouts in 72 games. Once they pulled the tarp off the field but only had seven workers finish the job. The eighth had been rolled up in the tarp.

Minor league staples Max Patkin, Eddie Feigner and the barnstorming/retired Bob Feller were regulars.

“I knew we were in the entertainment business, not the baseball business,” said Kravitz.

Minimizing expenses was the mantra for that year. Every dollar counted. There was no money to send the play-by-play person on the road so he did re-creations of the game, a half inning delayed, from Jones College. Re-creations generally stopped in baseball during the 1930’s. Travel was done on a church bus until one night the team ended up in a ditch on the way to Chattanooga.

“The driver worked for the church and he was working all day and then driving all night,” Kravitz explained.

Local kids were paid 50 cents to retrieve foul balls and home runs so the balls could be reused. Scuffed baseballs were rubbed down with milk to give them a new white shine. The visiting clubhouse was a Spartan affair.

Even Kravitz now admits he cut too many corners.

“One night I forgot and left the baseballs in the milk,” he explained. “After the game the umpire asked me about the baseballs because they were like lead weights! Cal Ripken, Sr. was managing the Charlotte AA club and came into my office railing about the lack of towels in their locker room. That’s when I knew I had gone overboard trying to save money.”

The club’s books were being run out of a bank in Oklahoma City. Kravitz deposited the money and filed the receipts each night and went back to selling. He didn’t keep a ledger of whether they would make enough money to stay in business.

Around Labor Day when the season ended, the Royals sent word that the Suns had done enough to pay the parent club back their $75,000 and had made another $100,000 to boot. Kravitz was named AA General Manager of the Year by the league and the Sporting News.

So add 1973 as an important date in Jacksonville baseball history.

Many an afternoon I sat in the stands at Wolfson Park or in the upper deck at the Baseball Grounds with “Senior” and “Pedro” listening to common wisdom, getting life lessons, hearing fantastic stories (that were all true) and enjoying a cigar (when it was legal). I knew those moments were special and I savored every one. Oftentimes the evening was spent on the “Chairman’s Bench” watching baseball, hearing baseball wisdom and watching the endless stream of well-wishers who came by just to say hi to Peter Bragan, Sr. and Peter Bragan, Jr. and express how much they enjoyed being there. I saw kindness and humility, passed from father to son and watched a local business become an institution and flourish.

Monday’s announcement that Pedro was selling the team to an out of town businessman was inevitable, of course. Having bought the team from the Eliopoulos family (good people and owners in their own right) for $330,000 in 1984, a 30+ year run as the owners of the Double A franchise in Jacksonville seemed enough. When Senior died in 2012 and Pedro passed into his 60’s, the idea that somebody else was going to own the franchise soon was getting close.

“If Daddy saw those numbers he’d say ‘Sign the papers boy,” is how Pedro told me he came to his final decision to sell the franchise. It’s been widely reported that Ken Babby is paying about $25 million to be the new owner. “That’s funny money,” according to Pedro and “more than me and Nancy will ever be able to spend.” But at the very least the Bragan legacy in Jacksonville seems secure. With that “funny money” Pedro intends to start a baseball foundation and perhaps build a museum to honor Jacksonville’s baseball history.

“He’ll make it a better franchise,” Bragan said during the announcement in the locker room at the Baseball Grounds. Babby, the owner of the Akron Rubber Ducks is media-savvy having worked for the Washington Post Company. So it was no surprise when he encouraged applause regarding the baseball foundation announcement.

“We like affordable family fun,” Babby explained when asked about his philosophy regarding running a minor league franchise. “But a few championships thrown in here and there wouldn’t hurt either.”

Bragan will run the franchise for 2015 calling it, “Pedro’s Last Dance.” He stepped out from behind the podium, and in classic Pedro fashion, danced an abbreviated jig for the media. “It’s not quite right because I still have this boot on,” he explained having had foot surgery two months ago.

Interestingly enough, Shad Khan was interested in buying the Suns but Babby was willing to pay top dollar and Khan let the deal go.

Pedro wanted to announce the deal at his annual Christmas party in December but couldn’t complete the paperwork for the deal to go through in time so he figured the beginning of spring training was his next best option.

What the Bragans did was bring exactly what Babby says he wants to continue: affordable family fun. They also build relationships with advertisers and sponsors, the city and most importantly their paying customers, the fans. Babby has increased attendance nearly 30% in the first two years he’s owned the club in Akron.

That can’t be overstated. If you went to the ballpark and didn’t see Pedro and his Dad there, it would have been strange. I guess that’s why I can’t remember a time when I was at the ballpark and didn’t see one of them there. That will end after this season. Chris Peters has done a great job of learning the business and running the show for the last few years and hopefully, he’ll be given a chance to continue to do the same.

That local, common touch is important in any minor league baseball operation but perhaps more pronounced in Jacksonville.

As Pedro said, “I never really owned the Suns, the fans and the city did, I was just a steward.”

And it’s because he thinks that way that made it work so well.

The Mitchell Report took a while to compile and $20 million of Major League Baseball’s money. So why then is every body in it denying the findings or just ignoring it completely? Probably because there is no real enforcement risk based on baseball’s current relationship with the players union.

The current collective bargaining agreement runs through 2011 and doesn’t allow MLB to really punish players for using illegal performance enhancing drugs.

Why hasn’t Donald Fehr, the players union representative, come out with a big statement either saying the problem is fixed, is still going on or never existed? Because he’s already positioning for the negotiating that will go on looking for the new agreement.

The baseball era just past was full of steroid and performance enhancing drug use and clearly some of the administrators of the game thought that was just fine. When the 1994 World Series was cancelled because of a players’ strike, the game was crippled. Cal Ripken Jr.’s march past Lou Gerhig’s record revived some fans interest in the game but it was the long ball, and the home run chase in 1998 that really brought the game back.

Now we know that Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and company were all using drugs to help hit those home runs. Somebody at the top of the game knew it. They might not have been there when guys were getting injections but they had some suspicions that the game was tainted.

And they did nothing.

Why?

Because people were flocking to the ballparks and watching the game on television. MLB had unprecedented growth to a $6 billion dollar game in 2007. People like the long ball and were paying money to see it. So in one-way or another, baseball turned a blind eye to what was going on.

I heard an interview with a player the other day that said he was aware of what was going on but that any illegal “actions” were performed outside of the ballpark. It’s not that there were a bunch of syringes sitting around the clubhouse, but that players were aware that if they needed some help, they could get it from one of their teammates pretty easily.

Storm Davis said the other day he wouldn’t have admitted it ten years ago but now says that he was well aware of performance enhancing drug use and it’s availability during his playing days.

Nobody wants to throw anybody else under the bus and even some say that the Mitchell Report is “incomplete.” But at the same time, nobody’s come out and said, “Yeah, I did it. I knew it was illegal and I did it because I thought I could make some more money.”

Andy Pettite admitted to taking HGH during a rehab but he didn’t exactly trumpet any willing “illegal” drug use.

I just think somebody either has to stand up and be counted in the Major League Baseball office or the commissioner and Donald Fehr should both resign. Players won’t be punished because of the collective bargaining agreement and there’s a bunch of muddling around going on instead of some explanations.

I guess it’s still a “game of shadows.”

I was driving the other day flipping through the stations when I came across Jim Rome talking with Bob Costas. Obviously much of the conversation centered on Barry Bonds with Rome giving Costas a chance to rebut some things Jon Miller had said the week before.

“I like Jon,” Costas said, “but he does work for the Giants so perhaps in this case he should recuse himself.”

Rome spent two segments with Bob, giving him a forum to get into the whole situation with Bonds, the Giants fans, steroids, Bonds’ denials (or not) and baseball’s position on the whole thing. Costas was able to distill much of every fan’s feelings down to their essence: Bonds cheated.

But it was a very solid argument, noting that Bonds was a great player through his career up until 1998-99 when his alleged performance enhancing drug use started. But that his numbers since then are somewhat artificial and that perhaps his “cheating” has allowed him to extend his career to this point.

Whether it’s on his nationally syndicated radio show or his current “Costas Now” on HBO, Bob has always had a long-form outlet for his ideas and opinions, and they’re usually well thought out and insightful. In this case, he filleted both Miller and Bonds (who had called Costas a “midget who never played the game”), leaving anybody with a logical thought with a very convincing argument.

As Bonds “takes” (Costas’ characterization) instead of breaks Hank Aaron’s home run record it comes at the same time as Alex Rodriguez hits a milestone at 500 home runs and Tom Glavine wins his 300th game. Is it just the time we’re living in that allows us to see such monumental feats in baseball? Is it how the game is played now? Are the players just better?

It’s actually all of those things.

The careers are longer, the players are better trained, some naturally, and in fact, it’s the time we live in. I’m sure you’ve seen the stat regarding the time frame for 300 game winners. Eleven before 1925, a couple in the next 57 years and eight since 1982. There won’t be a bunch in the near future based on the players currently in the game.

The three real milestones in baseball are 300 wins, 3,000 hits and 500 home runs. Of the three, 300 wins only comes from a long career, solid performances and playing on some good teams. Three thousand hits means you played a long time and stayed healthy. You had to be a solid player but a long career is part of 3,000 hits. Twenty years, 150 hits a year and you’re there.

Five hundred home runs are all you. Nobody’s got to make great defensive plays, and you have to have that pop in your bat that gets the ball over the fence.

At 32 years old, ARod is at 500 and could easily eclipse wherever Bonds sets the bar at some point in his career. Eight hundred? Absolutely attainable if he stays healthy and wants to get there.

I did the play-by-play for the Florida High School association baseball championships for about six years and I remember doing the title game when ARod’s team played in it. He pitched and played short. (Same with Chipper Jones). You could see he was a special player right away and he’s fulfilled that potential five-fold.

Without the steroid era, that’s one of the things I like about baseball, the stats hold up from decade to decade, century to century. The players, the fields, the agronomy, the bats, the balls, they’ve all gotten better, but it’s all relative. The numbers match and they matter.

Just think about this one fact that continues to amaze me.

Despite all of the changes, one constant is 90-feet between bases. Ninety feet from home to first. And every play seems to be bang-bang. If it’s 91, everybody’s out. If it’s 89, everybody’s safe. But it’s not. It’s 90 and perfect.

Hopefully we’ll figure out where to put Bonds in the context of his numbers versus the history of the game. For me, I’ll stay a baseball fan, Barry or not.

I suppose you can’t come to any other conclusion than Rafael Palmeiro is lying. He sat in front of a congressional committee on March 17th, waved his finger and said, “I have never used steroids.” When Major League Baseball suspended him for 10 days last week, he altered that statement adding, “I have never intentionally used steroids.” So he gave himself an out, giving rise to the theory that he took a supplement that had a steroid product in it, unwittingly.

But then it was reported that he tested positive for Winstrol, and that whole theory went out the window. You don’t get Winstrol by accident in your system. It’s either done through a pill or through an injection. Maybe his doctor, not associated with the team gave him the pill to help rehabbing an injury, but that’s not an excuse either.

As a pro athlete in these very sensitive times regarding steroids, if you sat in front of congress and waved your finger, you better know everything that you’re putting in your body.

It’s a real shame too, because Palmeiro was looked on as a sympathetic figure after the congressional hearings. He didn’t look like a steroid guy, so it was plausible that he had been named as a user because of some kind of grudge. But that all goes out the window now. Congress has asked for the documents regarding his failed drug test and if the test was before March 17th, they’re thinking about charging him with perjury, for lying under oath.

Mark McGwire came off poorly during those hearings because he kept protecting himself. Palmeiro, on the other hand, seemed to be the guy baseball was counting on to drag them out of this morass. A bona fide major league hitter with Hall of Fame numbers who didn’t look like he was about to bust out of his uniform. Now the question is reminiscent of the Watergate hearings and the question asked often, “What did baseball know and when did they know it?”

There are reports that baseball knew as early as May that Raffy had failed his drug test and tested positive for steroids. But, they held off the announcement until after the All-Star break and until after Palmeiro broke the 3,000 hit mark. (He’s the fourth player in history to hit 500 home runs and have 3,000 hits.) If that’s all true, baseball will have another black eye, and the game will take another step backwards. Not in places like Boston or New York or St. Louis, but in the non-major league cities where daily contact with the majors only comes through news reports. And those reports in recent years have been more about baseball’s problems than it’s glories.

Bud Selig has never been a strong leader for MLB, but now, more than ever, he needs to turn the reigns of this problem over to an outside agency. People are losing faith that baseball is capable of policing itself when it comes to drug testing. Hire the World Anti-Doping Agency or somebody like it to run the testing. Get out of that business and make the punishment swift and meaningful. We can hope can’t we?

It’s not hard to discount anything and everything Jose Canseco says. He’s been a self promoter and a characiture for most of his career. In a nutshell, he’s not smart. But he has admitted to using steroids during his career in Major League Baseball, and has implicated most of the big names in baseball in the process.

His book about steroid use explains how, and why, top-notch athletes use performance enhancing drugs to make good athletes better and as Canseco writes, “great players legendary.” It’s not hard to look back at Canseco early in his career and see a very different body style than the one he had as his carrer ended. He was tall and muscular, but was almost wiry. He stole 40 bases and hit 40 home runs in the same season. He ran balls down in the outfield, and legged out doubles with his speed. But as his career progressed, Canseco became a heavily muscled bomber, somewhat injury prone, but more prone to outlandish behavior and prodigous home run blasts.

In other words, the poster boy for steroid use.

Whether he actually injected Mark McGwire with steroids in a bathroom stall in Oakland as he claims in his book is not very relevant. McGwire clearly enhanced his body style and his performace with some kind of substance. He’s admitted to using androstinedione, not a steroid per se, but rather a drug that allows an athlete to work out harder and more often with less recovery time.

McGwire went from a strong, tall home run hitter to a strong, tall, huge home run hitter. No doubt he spent a lot of time in the gym, and no doubt he used drugs to get big. Did Canseco inject him? Did he use illegal drugs? Who cares? Either way he did it with help, and that help put him in the record books with 70 home runs.

As a fan, just think about the players you know in your mind who went from regular looking pro athletes to sculpted Adonis looking mashers. Barry Bonds, Brady Anderson, Ron Gant, McGwire, Canseco, Sammy Sosa, Ken Caminiti, Roger Clemens, Jason Giambi, Gary Sheffield, all guys who are substially bigger than when their careers started. So were they all on steroids? Did they just get bigger with age and hard work? We’ll never know. Unless of course, more players like Giambi come clean.

Canseco might be a cartoon character, and desperate for money, but at least a portion of his claims are true. Baseball players went outside the game trying to break the bank. And most did. But at what cost? Whether there’s an asterisk or not next to the records, the last ten years will always be known as the time in baseball when the players used drugs to inflate the numbers.

And how about the latest allegations?

Did MLB know this was going on, only to turn a blind eye in order to bring some new excitement to the game?

Boy, I hope not.

I let a girl take advantage of me at Wolfson Park once. Actually, she pretty much did whatever she wanted, and I just stood there, without any say in the matter. After about 3 minutes, she was finished with me, kind of chuckled, and sent me away. She had struck me out. That’s right, a girl struck me out. Not just any girl actually. As a pitcher for the “Silver Bullets” a traveling promotional all-girls baseball team, this pitcher spent some time in baseball’s minor leagues before retiring. But she struck me out along the way. Twice.

At Wolfson Park.

That was just one of the memories that floated by this weekend for me during the final regular season games at the 47 year old baseball stadium. There’s been a lot of baseball played there, and some softball too. Since the Bragans took over ownership of the minor league franchise in Jacksonville, they’ve made Wolfson Park a friendly place. Not just for minor league games, but for all kinds of ball playing. There have been celebrity softball games, home run hitting contests, Senior Men’s baseball match ups and the games with the “Silver Bullets.” I hit off Bob Feller at Wolfson Park. And two of the three fights I’ve been in in my adult life were right in Wofson’s dugouts.

But the best thing about the ballpark is it was just that, a ballpark. You knew baseball was played there. You could feel it; you could smell it when you walked through the front door. That musty, well-worn, rosin bag, glove oil, popcorn, hot dog, hamburgers-on-the-grill smell that only a ballpark can create.

And it was friendly. Between the early “Hey boy!” calls from Peter Bragan Sr. as he greeted fans who stopped by his seat on the way to theirs, to the earnest “Thanks for comin'” from Peter Jr. (Pedro) as he shook hands by the stadium’s exit, there was a lot of fun to be had at the ball park. My kids learned about professional sports there. Unlike the football stadium where the action seems sterile and removed, at Wolfson Park it was right in your lap. The on deck circle was an arms length away and foul balls were on you in a hurry.

Wolfson Park used to be known as a pitchers park. With a brick outfield wall a mile away, fly balls were gobbled up easily and the wind kept everything in play. But once Pedro put up “Bragan’s Blue Monster” the double-decked, sign-filled, outfield wall inside the bricks, it became a hitter’s paradise. It also made it more fun for the fans. Not just because the wall created all sorts of caroms and knocked enough of the wind down to let balls fly out of there, but it also moved the entire field back 15 feet, leaving a measly 45 feet between home plate and the back fence. Sitting in the front row gave you the feel of being in the batters box. Once, while sitting up front, I was caught on tape eating a salad at a game. A salad! I encouraged Pedro to add salads to the menu a few years ago for “something lighter” I think were the words I used. Boy did I catch grief for that!

Although many future stars and even Hall of Famers have played at Wolfson Park, it’s not a magical place. It more friendly than anything, and the Bragan’s have made it a priority to keep it a friendly, family place. From the candy on Mr. Bragan’s desk to the untold memorabilia in Pedro’s office, there’s not a spot you’d feel unwelcome in at Wolfson Park. And because of that, we’ll remember Wolfson Park.

Just the mere talk about a baseball strike raises the ire of most sports fans. The average salary is more than 2 million a year, they say, and they’re going on strike? “I’m not doing it for me,” said Nomar Garciaparra, “I’m doing it for that little leaguer who will get here and say ‘I wish I played in that era.” I laughed out loud when I heard that one. Both sides have inordinate greed and selfishness, only to be outdone by their hatred for each other.

Since 1972, baseball owner and the players union have never resolved a labor disagreement without a work stoppage. When free-agency became a reality, it truly freed the players from what had been years of indentured servitude. When you were drafted by a team, you belonged to that team until they said you didn’t. The “reserve clause” was invoked by owners at the end of players’ contracts to keep them in the organization. When challenged, the reserve clause was struck down by the courts, and quickly. Players then bargained as a union for the terms of free-agency and salary arbitration and the incredible rising salary became a part of everyday baseball life.

“It’s not free-agency,” George Steinbrenner once told me, “It’s that damn arbitration that’s killing us. Second-rate second basemen don’t deserve that kind of money.” George was right, in theory, assuming that all owners were dealing from the same deck, operating on level ground. Which we know is not the case.

Steinbrenner’s local television package dwarfs anything else in baseball, and enables the Yankees to pick and choose players as they please. (see Mondesi, Raul and Weaver, Jeff in the Baseball Guide) The Yankees raiding other teams talent is nothing new. The Kansas City A’s served as an in-season farm team for the Bronx Bombers for years. Sharing their wealth for the good of the game is what the Yankees (Steinbrenner) have to be convinced of.

Although we’ve seen recently that money isn’t the final answer, just check out the Orioles recent record compared to their monstrous team salary. But without a lot of cash, you’re just not going to compete year after year. When the current contract runs out, there will be talk of a salary cap, which the players won’t agree to, and revenue sharing, which the owners won’t go for. And that’s why they’ll strike or be locked out, depending on which side you want to listen to.

Attendance figures can be pushed all over the place, but it’s pretty apparent that not as many people are going to major league ballparks. If they stop the season, and call off the World Series, like they did in 1994, the casual fan will walk away from the game and not come back. Ever. Sure, they’ll have a passing interest in the pennant races, and probably watch the playoffs and the World Series, but they’re not going back to the ball park. There are too many other options to spend their money on. Baseball doesn’t own the consciousness of the sporting public anymore. It’s part of the sports landscape. If they stop playing, that part is going to look pretty barren.

There’s been a large outcry from sports fans this week about the $252-million contract Alex Rodriguez signed with the Texas Rangers. Over the next ten years, if he chooses, A-Rod will be the highest paid player in baseball.

It’s in his contract.

He has to be or he can leave.

People are screaming about this because they’re dealing from the wrong premise. Baseball, or any other sport played at the professional level these days is not the sport we played, or watched as kids.

Pro sports aren’t part of the backdrop of society anymore. They’re what defines communities, defines fans, and in many cases define the cultural fabric of our country. It’s a rare exception that an athlete is identified with one team, one city throughout his career. Free agency has taken care of that.

In the off-season of any sport, athletes are headed off to better tax havens, warmer climates and the good life. How many Ravens hang around Baltimore in the summer? Where are the Pirates in the winter? Pittsburgh? Are the Browns sitting around in the Flats in Cleveland on New Year’s Eve?

There’s no slipping into the corner tavern and bumping into your favorite player. I worked in a bar in Washington, D.C. while I was in college and it would have been unusual if a night went by when I was behind the bar that a player from the Redskins didn’t walk in. Not anymore.

They’re entertainers, they’re stars, and they’re paid accordingly. The games have gone from just that, games, to a big show. Have you seen the opening of an NBA game lately? They’d gotten so outrageous with smoke, lasers and loud music that the league had to put limits on what teams could do. It’s a big show, and that’s what the fans are paying for. And don’t lament how nobody can afford to go to a baseball game. How many Garth Brooks fans have actually seen him in person? Most can’t afford it.

Rodriguez’s $25-million a year is about right for a top flight entertainer these days. Robert DeNiro, Meg Ryan, Elton John, they’re all in that range. Nobody’s yammering about their salaries. We accept they have talents we don’t have. So does A-Rod. And that’s why the owners are paying that kind of money.

Baseball’s problem is the escalation of salaries over the long haul. When will it stop? Only when the owners can’t pay that kind of money. It’s not the superstars who are tilting the books. It’s how they drag up the utility infielder to a salary structure that doesn’t allow all clubs to be in the bidding. At some point, the league will realize that the competitive balance in the league is so out of whack, tilted toward the big market teams, that some clubs like Kansas City, Montreal, Tampa Bay and Milwaukee fold their tents and go away. Not relocate. Just fold because they can’t compete.

Lately at owners’ meetings you hear the word “contraction.” That means they’re thinking about it. Considering getting rid of teams for the first time since 1900.

Don’t think it can’t happen.

U.S. Steel?

Gone.

Oldsmobile?

On the way out.

Fewer teams will mean fewer jobs, less power for the Players Union, better talent on a smaller number of teams, and the owners can control the salaries. If they want to.

The common theory is that anything a guy makes is what’s he’s worth, because somebody is willing to pay it. Clearly, Texas billionaire Tom Hicks can afford to pay Rodriguez $25-million a year. He’ll probably make money over the long haul on the deal between ticket sales, promotions, broadcast rights and the overall value of the team.

The problem is, will he have anybody to play? A 162-game schedule between the Yankees, Red Sox, Orioles, Rangers, Braves, Mets, Angels and Dodgers could get a little boring.

Don’t blame A-Rod. By all accounts he’s the perfect player to get the perfect deal: Can do it all on the field offensively and defensively, knows the history of the game and respects it, great in the clubhouse and is a model citizen off the field.

I hope he wins the Triple Crown. Somebody we’ll pay to watch perform. He’s an entertainer.

These are the true dog days of summer. Football teams are in training camps, sweating the sweat they hope separates them from the other teams who are sweating equally in another city. Baseball teams have come to the conclusion that they’re contenders or they’re not. The haves are getting players from the have-nots.

Being from Baltimore, this is usually the time as a kid when I would have a passing interest in what the Colts were doing at Goucher College in between checking the box score of the latest Oriole game. The Colts are long gone, and the Orioles aren’t even a shell of their former self. Summer is no fun when your team isn’t in contention. Now I know what those Royals fans felt like for all those years.

For about a twenty-five year stretch starting in the mid-60’s the Baltimore Orioles rivaled the Yankees, the Canadiens and the Packers as the winningest franchises around. The Orioles won pennants, won World Series and when they weren’t winning, they were contending until the last week of the season. All that’s changed. And how.

But some parts of it are still the same. Go to Camden Yards and there are legions of knowledgeable fans in the ballpark, paying customers, now getting to know the new names, numbers and faces of the players wearing the Oriole uniform. It is the uniform people follow. The organization, the tradition, the pride of a team “belonging” to their city.

There was always an “Oriole Way.” In fact, they wrote a book about it. It came down to very simple things like how to hit the cutoff man, how to start the double play, how to execute a sacrifice bunt. All basic, but all the “right” way to do things. Players liked it. I know, now you’re saying “he’s old school.” But even players now like it. Look at B.J. Surhoff’s reaction to getting traded to the Atlanta Braves last week. Surhoff was going to a team in contention from a team without a chance. He didn’t pack his bags and go running. He cried. He bemoaned leaving Baltimore, the city, the people and the fans.

There is something special that bonds a player to a city like that, something akin to what happens in St. Louis. That’s why it was doubly appalling to hear Will Clark say how exciting it was in a Cardinal uniform after being traded there from the Orioles.

Baseball is different from other sports. You don’t have to be 7 feet tall or 300 pounds to play it. Everyday, normal looking guys excel at the game. The rituals of spring training, the excitement of opening day, the long season, the home stands and the road trips, the history of the game all separate baseball from everything else. It’s a marathon with its own rhythms. The season has its highs and lows. A team that wins six out of every ten games dominates the league. A batter who is successful just three out of every ten attempts is a star.

Fans come from all over to see a game. They already know the players. And they know just about everything about him. Batting average, slugging percentage, hometown, and minor league history, none of it gets past a baseball fan. Some make it to one game. Others are there, night after night, checking to see the small things that can make a difference.

So how did Baltimore fall from grace and into the pack of Brewers, Royals and Rangers? Ownership. An owner sets the tone for his franchise. When Peter Angelos bought the Orioles, he brought his own brand of brash leadership to the organization. Did I say leadership? Angelos’ self-styled ownership has taken the Orioles from a once proud position as an organization to the near laughingstock of all of baseball. Win now, or else has been his edict to all who have worked for him. That’s not how you win in baseball! Even George Steinbrenner finally figured out that your baseball people need to run your baseball team. The Yankees have nurtured players like Derek Jeter and Bernie Williams through their organization, making them the backbone of winning.

Angelos doesn’t understand any of this. I’m still checking the box score everyday; I’m still waiting for Cal to return to the lineup. I’m still wearing my Orioles hat and each day somehow is a little brighter after an Oriole win. But for the first time, I’ve thought twice about going to a game. Put money in Angelos’ pocket?

I’m sure I will at some time.

But I wish somebody would bring my Orioles back.