Jeff Lund

Americaās pastime. Maybe once upon a time.

Today, what started as a game is a business. We have all known it, and the reminders are often hard to swallow. But this season, the threat of a baseball strike is once again looming and it looks like it will inevitably end this season prematurely.

Yes, baseball has come a long way. Players are faster, stronger ÷ and more importantly, richer ÷ than before. The days when players played the game and needed other jobs to make ends meet are far from over. Not only must players receive huge paychecks and endorsements, but also the owners must be sure to stay rich.

So as the push and pull of the owners vs. players continues, each side trying not to get screwed, both are screwing over the only pure thing left in the game ÷ the fans. People like me, the student from a middle-class family that buys the tickets regardless of where the seats are. The top row of Bank One, the upper deck of Camden Yards or whatever ballpark I can get to.

Itās the game I want to see, the history, the aura of a major league baseball game. Lately it has been more of seeing the stadium, and not so much the game. Because it isnāt a game. I am separated so much by the players on the field it is hard for me. Not only am I alienated by a fence, but also by tax brackets and income.

I donāt think many people show up to Wall Street to watch their favorite trader make his sales. What it boils down to is just that. The players are trying to get richer, and the owners are doing the same ÷ all at the expense of me, the investor.

What baseball is telling me and the rest of the ticket-buying public is that we are not worth a complete season unless they can afford the fully loaded Cadillac Escalade rather than just the regular version.

Yes, things should be fair and both parties should not be taken advantage of; but what about me?

I grew up watching baseball, have made trips to more than a handful of professional fields, yet it is almost as if they could care less. They would rather not play and keep the stadiums empty just so that the millions are dispersed a little more evenly.

Excuse me? Skip the World Series that everyone claims to be so excited about over money issues?

If that is the case, then why should I take out money and chip in for gas and parking to drive to the nearest park to watch tiny figures run around on a green playing field while drinking overpriced beer?

Should, I as a fan, strike because the price of hot dogs, pretzels, beer, soda and nachos are not comparable to those at other parks or at the grocery store?

But itās not a lot of money, right? And it doesnāt make that much of a difference?

Twenty bucks is a lot to me. I work for every dollar I can so that I can feed myself between classes and maybe even fit in a little fun.

I make the sacrifice, as do millions of others across the country.

Did any of the players in the ā40s and ā50s complain when they held two jobs on top of playing for Major League Baseball?

Was there any doubt that serving the people and the country during times of war was more important than a paycheck?

There once wasnāt.

I admit I do not fully understand all of the logistics of this situation; but show me someone who does. Show me someone who can honestly say this is exactly the problem ÷ because if someone could, we wouldnāt be having the scare of a second strike since 1990.

So I hope the owners and players can tell the baseball-card-buying, poster-purchasing little leaguers that are traveling around the country this summer with their fathers touring baseball fields why they are justified in not finishing this season, and why they are not willing to make a sacrifice or at least play nice.