McAdam: As MLB players and owners square off, it's tough to root for either side

We live in divided times. Maybe you've noticed.

Whether it's politics or the current pandemic, everyone has a point of view and most are unafraid to share it.

So it stands to reason this would extend to the current logjam between major league owners and players. The two sides, who have a famously fractured history, can't seem to agree on how much the players should be paid should the 2020 season get underway.

Naturally, there are far more important issues facing us as a nation. But if we want the game to return, the two sides will need to find common ground and reach an agreement.

And in this hyper-partisan era, it's essential to pick a side. The current environment all but demands it.

Me? I keep humming the words to, "For What's It Worth":

There's battle lines being drawn/Nobody's right/If everybody's wrong.

Forced to choose between owners and players, I'm taking: C, none of the above.

It's not because I'm equivocating, or afraid to take a side. Rather, it's that neither part is making it easy to attract support. Watching millionaires fight with billionaires? Hard pass, thanks.

Let's take the players first.



The Players Association is balking at the suggestion that their salaries be determined by a 50-50 split of revenues. And even though the NBA, NHL and NFL have similar formulas to figure out compensation, the Players Association has labeled this plan a "non-starter.''

The union posits that this is merely an attempt by the owners to use the current crisis as a means of finally installing a salary cap -- a system the union has long resisted. I can see this point of view. MLB owners haven't exactly been trustworthy and have, in fact, been found guilty of collusion in the past.

But while the MLBPA may have principle on its side, its tactics -- and those of its members -- leave a lot to be desired. Take, for example, the comments of Blake Snell, the Tampa Bay Rays pitcher cum human rights activist.

In a rambling monologue posted on Twitch earlier this week, Snell painted himself and his fellow players as brave freedom fighters, risking their lives for fans. Bryce Harper, apparently intent on further solidifying his standing as the game's most unlikable superstar, strongly seconded Snell's stance.

Of course, Snell and Harper have no idea how completely tone-deaf they sound. Yes, there would be substantial risks to returning to the field. But already, nurses, doctors, grocery store workers and first responders are putting themselves at risk, too -- most for a tiny fraction of what major league baseball players will earn.

And while players will be frequently tested and have the best in medical care available, that's hardly the case for many others already willingly placing themselves in harm's way.

Like anyone else in society, players have a right to make as much as the market bears. They have a specific set of skills and the country's appetite for pro sports is such that, rightly or wrongly, those skills are in demand. For fans who like to claim: ''I'd play the game for free,'' here's a blunt -- but truthful -- reminder: Good thing, because no one would pay to see you play.

But in the middle of the worst health crisis in a century and with unemployment already at 15 percent and climbing steadily, very few want to hear that players aren't going to get every last cent they had coming to them under more normal circumstances.

Because these are not, by any measure, normal circumstances. And while no one would suggest players should accept the owners proposal on blind faith or see their hard-fought collective-bargaining rights erased or ignored, players would be well-served to remind themselves that some perspective is in order. In a cratering economy, few want to listen to someone like Snell painting himself as a latter-day Samuel Gompers, forced to work for scraps under the most onerous of conditions.

Not that the owners are any more sympathetic.

So far at least, owners have, for the most part, had the good sense to not publicly cry poverty and open themselves up to the sort of ridicule that Snell invited.

(I say ''for the most part,'' because Cubs owner Tom Ricketts broke ranks a bit Friday when he suggested that a recalibration of the March agreement with the players was necessary because 70 percent of his team's revenue comes from game-day (tickets, parking, concessions, etc.) receipts. That's odd, since the industry standard is, by all accounts, far closer to 35-40 percent).

Then again, the owners have repeatedly demonstrated a penchant for creative -- or, at the very least, highly secretive -- accounting.

They want a partnership with the players, but don't want to open their books about how much money they make. Indeed, a good portion of their revenues -- that is, media rights fees -- that they don't want to share with each other, much less the Players Association.

As a group, the same businessmen who have been found guilty of colluding, who cry poor mouth despite industry revenues of nearly $11 billion last year and team valuations which go in only in one direction -- ever upward -- now say, with a straight face: Trust us.

Worse, there seems little recognition on the part of the owners that while they're assuming much of the monetary risk, it's the players who are assuming the actual risk to their own well-being and some accommodation needs to be made there.

In the end, the belief here is that a deal will be worked out and we'll have baseball again later this summer.

Until then, the two sides would do well to lock themselves in a room and refrain from public comment until they reach an agreement.

Someone once said: "Laws are like sausages -- it's better not to see them being made.'' We can now reasonably add "baseball labor negotiations'' to that phrase.