Picking Scabs

This is my first column of the year, but before I begin, a small warning:

If you have an exam this morning, put this down. This stuff's too frivolous for a time like this.

I am aware most of us (myself included) haven't been able to keep up with the doings of the sports world. The last few weeks have been rife with interesting, nay, bizarre, events from the sporting life.

But nothing wackier than this bombshell from the Major League Cabal: Oil Can Boyd is back as the first major-league scab, after crossing the picket line to sign with the White Sox organization.

Hey, recycling is in.

Imagine if the Can actually catches on (given the sorry state of pitching in the league) and gets to stick around even after the strike is settled.

"They [the White Sox] said if I don't make the team now, I can go to Triple-A and have a chance to make it back," reasoned the Can.

Is he crazy? How would you like to share the same locker room as an angry Frank Thomas?

Not me, thanks.

If anything, though, this is an indication of just how serious is the threat of replacement ball players for the 1995 baseball season.

But to tell you the truth, I'm not exactly sure how to react to the prospect of minor-league talent getting its uniform dirty on major-league diamonds.

Lots of fans are vowing not to go. But I'm not sure I wouldn't.

After all, I don't go to the game just to see the ballplayers. I usually spend as much time in the concession lines as I do watching the game.

In addition, the enjoyment and excitement of a day at the ballpark as an out-of-the-ordinary break from a busy life is not particularly enhanced by the quality of play.

Hey--some people go watch the Padres, don't they?

I admit that the excitement of having a "contending team" in the Year of the Scab might merit more than just an asterisk in the annals of baseball history, and that therefore some, if not most, of the excitement, of the season will disappear.

But minor-league teams are far away, the play isn't much better, and I don't get all excited about Carolina League playoffs.

And the threat concerning baseball's standing on the national scene appears on the surface to be small.

The year marred by scab ball in the NFL did no lasting damage to football as an American institution. Why should it be particularly different with baseball?

I'll bet I won't be the only one at the scabfests.

Owners aren't stupid. They have a captive audience held hostage: their season ticket-holders.

Season ticket-holders get to keep their seat location from year to year. But if they don't renew, the seats are freed up, sold to one of the thousands undoubtedly on the season ticket waiting list.

Do you think Joe CEO is going to give up his dugout seats (or, heaven forbid, his skybox) in the name of baseball purity? Think again.

No, the Owners have their captive audience, and don't think they won't use it to the fullest.

The biggest question may be just who the Owners can get to play. They may want scabs, but they probably don't want a glorified beer league.

Pity the poor minor leaguer, who will be blackballed by the organization if he doesn't break ranks and beaned by the first major league pitcher he faces if he does.

But if the Owners manage to field 28 teams of scabs (or 26, if the Blue Jays and Orioles rebel), they will play. They are confident they can fill the seats and play a season, and I suspect their confidence is not ill-founded.