Trib Board: Just a Bunch of Regular Guys
It’s surprising that the Cubs didn’t make a lot more of this paltry figure. Fans can relate to modest six-figure incomes. Regular-guy moguls get those. It’s the kind of situation Walter Jacobson likes to go undercover and root around in–a regular guy trying to run a big-league baseball team on only $375,000 a year. “I’m cold and I’m hungry,” we can hear Jacobson moaning. “I think I’ll go up to the press box and mooch.”
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Good taste added, “Every empty seat in Wrigley Field and Comiskey Park represents a fan hoarding dollar bills in his hot, tight fist.”
They deserve the BAT. It’s theirs. Hot Type asks only that they tolerate another material change in the once-gleaming cudgel. Debased from gold to cupronickel in 1992 to acknowledge a new era of moral and material scarcity, the BAT henceforth shall be made of molten lead filings. (As a sop, it’ll be 2 percent bigger.)
The season was a nightmare from start to finish. Those hadn’t been pennant races. They weren’t even conference races. The major leagues had been subdivided into something called divisions, and there were “wild card” berths in the picture too. The Bigs had turned themselves into a monstrosity that the strike mercifully struck dead.
