Split Season by Jeff Katz

Author:Jeff Katz
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466843776
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Chapter 6

START ME UP

JULY 31–AUGUST 9

The New York Daily News was the first to report it—“PLAY BALL.” It was over—baseball was back.

A little after 6:00 a.m. on July 31, Miller, visibly exhausted, moved slowly to the microphone in the Crystal Room.

“We have indeed made a settlement, subject to ratification by each side.”

That was it. After 49 days the strike had ended. Belanger shook MacPhail’s hand.

“It didn’t have to happen,” said the weary Orioles shortstop.

“Let’s not let it happen again,” answered MacPhail.

There would be no peace-treaty picture between the two main warriors.

“I don’t think you should pose with him,” DeCinces, still angry at Grebey, advised Miller, pulling him aside.

The union head agreed, telling cameramen, “I don’t go for posed pictures,” though he had in 1980. Back then, Miller wasn’t consumed by the lack of trust and scorn that he now had for his foe.

Grebey sought out Boone, whom he respected. They shook hands. Seeing a connection between them, Grebey, in all sincerity, told the Phillies catcher, “You know, Bob, I’m sorry you were involved in this. You’re really a good guy. I’m sorry you and I had to be on opposite sides of the negotiation.”

Boone was gracious but couldn’t wait to find DeCinces.

“You wouldn’t believe what he told me,” Boone began before relaying what had happened. They both burst into laughter. Grebey had totally misread Boone’s calm as sympathy.

Looking for other hands to shake, Grebey spotted and approached Staub. Noticing being noticed, Staub took off, with his former nemesis in a hot pursuit around a table.

“You’re a liar. You’re always going to be a liar and you’re not going to be my friend,” shouted the orange-haired Met. The pair wouldn’t be working on any crossword puzzles together in the foreseeable future.

At the press conference, Miller smiled as he paid tribute to his players. “It was a victory for the spirit of the players.” He was so proud of them, this dedicated group of self-advocates standing up for the principles they held dear. He wasn’t as vital anymore, reminding all that this would be his last negotiation before retiring after 15 years as executive director of the Major League Baseball Players Association.

The scene had been set in motion by MacPhail’s phone call. At the July 30 meeting the American League president had requested, the participants were Miller and Fehr, MacPhail and Grebey. Hoping they could have a one-on-one session, Grebey had made a last-minute call to Miller that morning, but Miller was through with that. He offered the two-man committees, no less.

“We’re here to make a settlement,” MacPhail announced.

For four hours, from 1:00 to 5:00 p.m., the quartet haggled at National League president Chub Feeney’s office in Rockefeller Center. The setting was more conducive than the sterile rooms at the Doral. No tables separated the two parties. In the warmth of the wood-paneled work space, with its view of the skating rink below, Miller sat on the couch, apart from the other three.

When Grebey tried to speak, MacPhail shushed him. Grebey accepted his spot in the backseat with stoicism.

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