McAdam: MLB's proposal to resolve salary issues hits an immediate dead end

When word leaked over the weekend that Major League Baseball's latest economic proposal would come without any mention of a 50-50 revenue sharing plan, there was some reason for optimism.

That didn't last long.

If anything, Tuesday's proposal, put forth by MLB in a digital meeting with the Players Association, seemed to widen the gap between the two sides.

Was it posturing? Did MLB make this proposal with the idea that it was merely a starting point, fully realizing that the union would reject it out of hand?

That's impossible to say for now. What is known is this: the divide between players and owners is enormous and it's not alarmist to say that the status of the 2020 season is, for now, precarious.

The Players Association had already loudly signaled its disinterest in a revenue-sharing proposal, which it views as the start of a slippery slope toward a salary cap. But what MLB offered instead was no less inflammatory in the eyes of the union.

MLB offered to pay players on a sliding scale. (Players had already agreed to accept a prorated portion of their scheduled salaries, with the prospect of an 82-game season, almost exactly half the length of a standard one, meaning, at most, half pay.)

From that prorated starting point, MLB proposed players making near the minimum would make 90 percent of their salaries. Those who make above the minimum up to $1 million would make 72.5 percent. Those making $1 million to $5 million would make 50 percent. And so on.

For those at the absolute top of the salary scale -- Mike Trout, Gerrit Cole, etc. -- would be paid 20 percent of their scheduled salaries.

The strategy would seem clear: MLB is testing the Players Association to see if the big stars will sacrifice the most to help those at the low end make most of their salary.

Put more cynically, it could be seen as a more divisive tactic. There are far more players toward the lower end of the pay scale than at the top, especially in recent seasons where the sport's "middle class'' -- relatively speaking -- has been thinned.

Not unlike the disparity that exists in the economy in which the rest of us live, income inequality has come to Major League Baseball. A select few make the most money, a shrinking segment find themselves in the middle and everyone else is bottle-necked near the bottom.

This seems to be a pretty obvious gambit by MLB: make the stars determine whether they're willing to sacrifice most of their salary to save the sport for the year. It likely won't end well.

"You're not going to divide the membership of the union,'' said one player agent who asked not to be identified. "That was asinine. That's not going to happen. Players aren't going to fall for that. That was a comical attempt at splitting the membership.''

I've maintained two things since this rupture appeared between the two sides:

1. Players won't be shamed by public sentiment.

The Players Association learned a long time ago that it can never, ever win the PR battle that accompanies any labor strife. Most fans, rightly or wrongly, view being a professional athlete as a privileged existence and any suggestion to the contrary is seen as, at best, unseemly, and at worse, downright entitled.

Think of how many times you hear fans say: "I'd pay for free.''

Of course, such thinking ignores two fairly obvious points. First, no sane person would pay to watch the average fan play, so of course, they would have to play for free. Second, professional athletes are the best in the world at what they do, and as such, are paid according to supply and demand.

Players aren't about to be cowed by taunts that, in digging in on their beliefs, they're depriving the nation of a needed distraction. They've come to accept that they're in a losing battle to win the support of fans. If anything, that knowledge frees them to defend their stance even more arduously.

2. The level of distrust players have for owners is absolutely informing this battle.

For years, players have felt owners have not operated in good faith. They believe some form of collusion has depressed the free-agent market. They believe owners have overstated their losses while failing to acknowledge the growth in franchise value.

"I trust Tony Clark (Executive director of the Players Association),'' said former major leaguer Mark Reynolds, interviewed by Chris Russo on Sirius/XM Radio Tuesday afternoon. "He was my teammate and he pounded into our heads daily: 'Do not give the owners an inch because they'll take a mile.' Whatever they're proposing is in their favor.''

The sort of distrust is ingrained in the players and makes any concession difficult. When one side trust can't/won't believe what they're hearing from the other, finding common ground becomes highly problematic.

The ownership is unwilling to open their books to the players is another roadblock.

"I think it really comes down to, at the end of the day, if you want to have transparent, good-faith negotiations, put all the cards on the table,'' said the agent. "Their refusal to do that with this kind of economic hit is not feasible.''

Increasingly, on the players' side, there is talk about deferred money. But while the union would eventually recoup the salaries due, owners counter that it only kicks the matter of lost revenue down the road. Ownership's position is that paying now or paying later doesn't address their contention that they'll be losing money by paying pro-rated salaries without the benefit of paying customers.

Where we go from here is anyone's guess. What seems certain is that the road to a potential agreement will be a smooth one.