The MLB Player's POV: Anonymous Criticism & Arbitration

Think of all of the sources professional athletes, specifically baseball players, receive criticism.  There's the media.  Probably family.  Definitely fans.  Coaches might try to light a fire under our player's bottom.  Their manager may bluster some words in his direction.  Of course, a player worth anything will be his own harshest critic.  But that can be difficult, to be your own harshest critic, when two forces are working against you: The anonymity of internet surnames and your own team during arbitration.

When a player says they don't read the papers to see what the media is saying about them, you can pretty much believe them.  Because most players don't read papers, especially the younger generation of players.  They're all about their Yahoo! Sports or ESPN.com homepages.  They're reading the web.

Now, to read a columnist write something negative about you - maybe that he doesn't come through in September, when it really counts, or his home runs were all hit in games where the score was already decided - is commonplace.  A player can develop a numbness to the words.  It helps that he can see a byline; the person who wrote the (in the player's mind) slanderous, untrue remarks (the good player can filter what's right & what's off base) and lash out to that columnist in the clubhouse (eventually - some columnists don't make it to the clubhouse with regularity, some not at all).  It helps when you don't feel powerless to fight back.

But what if the player kept going and read the reader comments?  And those comments were even harsher?  How do you respond to Chewbacca16 or Jahweo04?  How do you lash out at humans who publicly held you out to dry but didn't give their real names to back it up?

Sure, these people writing are fans of the game.  And players deal with fans all the time, especially when they're playing in a stadium and 25,000 to 50,000 are screaming the player's name with a few choice slurs thrown in for description.  But when a player hears that negativity, they can do a few things:

1.  They can ignore it.  Sometimes a player is so in a zone, they don't hear the taunts and jeers.

2.  They can hear it and see those calling out the names.  At least the player can talk about a particular guy to his teammates or wife later and use choice slurs in that fan's description.

3.  The player can leave the field and give "the blanket finger," which means he can flash his middle finger in the direction of all of those hurling insults and criticism.  Sure, he'll get fined and face a greater public barrage from the media.  But when he gives the finger...  Man, that can feel real good at the time.

Chewbacca16?  If he comes at you anonymously through the internet, you have no way to get back.  It can make a guy paranoid if he thinks too hard about it.  Chewbacca16 could be a teammate or an old friend or someone you really do know.  Chances are, Chewbacca16 isn't someone you ever met.  This person writing that you are heartless or gutless and publicly wondering how and why you even have a big league roster spot is probably someone you've never met, nor ever will.  It's someone who just doesn't like you.  They can attack and you have no recourse.

Sure, you can start your own blog and write stuff back.  Or you can comment on the forum where you read the nasty things about yourself.  But that takes lots of effort and you run a greater risk of creating a stronger wrath against you.  What can you do?  Maybe the best thing is to stop reading the stuff altogether and spend that time taking extra BP or infield practice.  Maybe saying nothing is the best response.

The metaphorical pen really is mightier than the sword.

But let's say you're a player and you're dealing with another type of criticism.  This is from a team that will be paying you hundreds of thousands of dollars this coming season; possibly millions of dollars.  Your job is to help the team win.  They signed you to do that.  Or traded for you.  You and the team share a common bond: The more games we win, the more money we make.  It's as simple as that.

But it's not simple.  There's the great process called arbitration.  Here is where you/your agent and your employer, the team, can't come to an agreement over how much you'll be paid for the upcoming season.  You and your agent might think the value of your services to the team, based upon past performance and the salaries of others your age with comparable statistics, is $3 million.  The team disagrees and wants to pay you $1.2 million.

If you thought Chewbacca16 was harsh, wait until you hear what the team has to say.

You sit in a room and your agent explains your case.  He (sorry, but it's always a "he") tells the arbitrator that you're young and good and compares your statistics to Willie Mays or Sandy Koufax at similar points in their careers.  Then he shows how players who are not statistically as good as you are making more than the team wants to pay.  Heck, they may be making more than we're even asking now.  We're not greedy.  We just want what we deserve based upon what the market is paying. 

The team will come back and have their own statistics.  None of these are flattering.  Here's where they tell you everything that you can't do, that you've never been able to do.  Here's where they tell you you're lucky to have a big league roster spot and what they're offering is more than fair.  It's practically a charitable contribution. 

And here's where you bristle.  Here's where you sit and try to get into a zone to ignore it.  Here's where you you can see the people criticizing you and wish that you could stick your middle finger right into their faces and tell them where they can go when they die.  Here's where you learn all about where that "animosity" comes from between a player and a team.  Here's where you swear you'll never play for this team when free agency comes, no matter what they offer then.  Here's where the hard feelings begin.

If you win, the healing process can begin.  You've gotten them back for their criticism in the ultimate way, from a baseball point of view, by hurting them in their pocketbooks.  And you, always the competitor, can say you are the victor.  It was me against them and I won (with a little help from your agent).  I'm better than them.

But if you lose...

You're as good as gone.  You're asking your agent how many days until you can be a free agent and show these guys they picked a fight with the wrong player.  You want to know how you can get back at them now.  Right now.  You want to complain to anyone who'll listen.  You lost and, always the competitor, can't sleep because you're so mad at yourself and the team and anyone who you ever met for creating the circumstances that made this happen. 

So you go on the computer at 3 in the morning and see how Beat Writer A described the process, which is really one little paragraph: "Ballplayer X lost in arbitration yesterday.  The team will pay him $3.7 million for the 2009 season.  Ballplayer X had submitted a request for $6.4 million."  But underneath the little paragraph are 279 reader comments.  279!  Already!  And the first was written by your friend, Chewbacca16.  "They guy doesn't deserve $3.70 an hour." 

The next day, you're spotted in a local computer store shopping for one to replace the unit that had someone been smashed to pieces at 3:13 that morning.