How much is enough? Just ask the NBA

Sitting upon my couch, watching intently as the most talented teams in Major League Baseball battle for the opportunity to compete in the World Series championships, I am reminded of the sheer beauty and unadulterated joy I associate with October.

For fans of professional sports, October is, without question, the most anticipated month of the year. As another baseball season comes to a rousing conclusion with all the glory and excitement associated with postseason play, the National Football League gradually assumes the spotlight, providing the impetus for nonreligious males across the country to wake up before one o'clock on Sunday afternoons. Waiting in the wings is the National Hockey League, whose season traditionally begins in the second week of the month, signaling the reawakening of Hockeytown in Detroit, fanaticism in Montreal and confusion in California. Finally, the end of October witnesses the commencement of the National Basketball Association preseason, a time for fans in Chicago to begin preparations for their next victory parade while fans in New York prepare for their hearts to be broken. But wait. Something is amiss. October has descended upon us. So where is the NBA?

Sadly, my friends, the NBA season has been indefinitely postponed, as players and owners battle for a greater share of the financial pie generated by ticket sales, television rights, league-sponsored endorsements and countless other sources of revenue. Perhaps we should be shocked and dismayed by this blatant display of incompetence and greed, but this is nothing new. Just four years ago, Major League Baseball abbreviated its season when players balked at the prospect of an owner-imposed salary cap that would prevent teams in large markets from handing out irresponsible, bank-breaking contracts. Now, the NBA is faced with a similar issue. Should the salaries of young stars like Kevin Garnett, Juwan Howard and Antoine Walker continue to escalate until teams in Milwaukee and Vancouver can no longer afford to man a fully competitive roster? Or should players acknowledge the obvious - that salaries of $20 and $25 million per season are more than adequate to support the average player, his family and all of his illegitimate children.

Following the abrupt ending of the 1994 baseball season, the media eagerly announced the death of our national pastime, attributing its passing to the actions of irresponsible owners and avaricious players. Across the nation, disgusted fans turned their attention to other matters, and the NBA, featuring Michael Jordan and the dynamic play of his Chicago Bulls, flourished. As attendance and television ratings increased in cities throughout the league, commissioner David Stern shrewdly filled the void created by the downfall of baseball with basketball and, in doing so, created a new national pastime. Children no longer listed Don Mattingly, Jose Canseco and Kirk Gibson among their idols, as they had during the previous decade; instead, their idols were Jordan, Magic Johnson and Patrick Ewing.

How things have changed. During the past year, the heroics of Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Cal Ripken have prompted sports fans to forgive Major League Baseball for its past indiscretions and to return to the ballparks for a taste of the excitement. Meanwhile, the NBA has apparently forgotten the devastating effect of the 1994 labor strike upon the popularity of baseball and remains confident in its ability to rebound from the impending work stoppage.

The NBA might want to reconsider its stance. Without the messianic presence of Michael Jordan, who will almost certainly announce his retirement as soon as the labor conflict has been resolved, what player is prepared to become an ambassador to the sport, a la Cal Ripken? Whose remarkable accomplishments will prompt fans to shell out their dollars for an opportunity to return to the arenas, a la Mark McGwire? Latrell Sprewell? Isaiah Rider? Allen Iverson? No, the man who will probably be expected the shoulder the burden of the NBA is Shaquille O'Neal, whose persona is only slightly more appealing than his insipid films. Thus, the NBA travels haplessly down a path of self-destruction, arrogantly assuming that it can spit in the faces of its fans and receive their affection (and money) in return.

During the past summer, representatives from the NBA Players Association met repeatedly with commissioner Stern and his merry band of owners to negotiate some compromise that will allow the 1998-99 season to begin in November as scheduled. The meetings quickly proved unproductive, and the two parties have not spoken since early July. For the sake of professional basketball, negotiations must resume immediately.

The 1998 baseball season reminded the American public that professional sports can be magical, even inspirational. Unfortunately, the NBA seems determined to bring us back to our senses, reminding us that sports are little more than a big business.