Look who's talking

Players made the right call by not setting a strike date

What are we to make of the players postponing a strike date? Two things: First, they realize this is no time to be quick on the trigger -- especially when they know how much money and goodwill a strike of any length will suck out of the game -- and second, they know the framework of a deal is right under their noses. Yes, the luxury tax has been problematic, but a compromise on the numbers can be worked out with hard bargaining. It is not something over which either side should start gulping the Kool-Aid. A strike date might have to be set soon, anyway -- perhaps as early as Friday. It could help drive negotiations. But the players smartly realized the time hasn't come just yet.

Remember, player salaries are tied to revenues, not ticket prices. After players struck in 1994, salaries went down in 1995. OK, we know they stayed down for about, oh, five minutes. But it should be expected that the fallout from each strike will be worse and more sustained. Players say they must protect future generations, but a strike of any length will cut their paychecks immediately.

When the players struck in 1994 they assured each other that the owners wouldn't last more than a week or two. Surprise! This time the union has no such delusions. They know a strike could again wipe out the postseason. That notion, which wasn't there in 1994, must give them pause. George Will, the columnist, fan and Blue Ribbon Committee member, said a strike won't be settled before next April at the earliest. He's probably right.

One source close to the negotiations said, "I don't believe a short strike is possible" because each side moves so slowly in studying proposals, like two ocean liners trying to reverse course in the night.

The owners aren't going to get the 50 percent tax on payrolls that are more than $98 million. That was their opening proposal. They've since amended it slightly. The players haven't made a counterproposal. (The owners' original plan would have moved $80 million in revenue this year; virtually as much money as the players would lose in a strike of only one week.) But there must be a figure and a threshold below those numbers that can be agreed upon, because we don't know how much of a drag on salaries a luxury tax would cause, anyway.

Union chief Donald Fehr said he doesn't consider signing players to be a luxury. That's true, but only to a point. Has he ever heard of Sterling Hitchcock? A $6-million-a-year mop-up man is a luxury.

The union, as Fehr correctly points out, must estimate how owners will operate under any new structure. The players conceded to a luxury tax for three seasons in the '90s, and after much hand-wringing on both sides it turned out to be much ado about nothing. The tax was virtually inconsequential. This time around, given the fragile state of the game and the thin patience of fans, the tax shouldn't be a dealbreaker. The players will have a hard time convincing fans that the tax is the poison pill that makes it worthwhile to shut down the game and send baseball into a long, ugly winter of courtroom war.

Unit of greatness

On the wall of Randy Johnson's office at his home in Arizona, above his desk, is a framed, hand-written letter and envelope with the embossed return address of Sandy Koufax. The former Dodgers great sent the note of congratulations four years ago when Johnson passed him on the list of career games with 10 or more strikeouts to move into second place with 100. Koufax added that catching the leader, Nolan Ryan, would be much tougher. Ryan had 215 double-digit strikeout games.

Now, though the modest and ultra-competitive Johnson won't admit it, he is taking dead aim at Ryan's record. Entering this week, the Unit had 182 games with 10 or more whiffs. And as we've continued to see with Johnson, who turns 39 next month, the usual standards of age, performance and pitch counts don't apply.

Yes, Pedro Martinez is on a marvelous 31-consecutive-inning scoreless streak, but he's only 30 years old and in need of constant injury surveillance. Roger Clemens gave up throwing complete games two years ago. Greg Maddux can't throw more than 100 pitches. Jarrod Washburn doesn't start the ninth inning of a 1-0 game in which he has thrown fewer than 90 pitches because, as the new "book" says, that's the closer's job. No one on the Rockies' roster has thrown a complete game this year. And then you have Johnson, who is the last of a breed -- a guy who could pitch with Koufax, Ryan, Seaver, Gibson, Spahn, Mathewson and McGinnity. Johnson is not appreciated enough for the results he gets or for the work ethic he brings to the mound.

"I enjoy it. That's my makeup," Johnson said. "Pitch counts to me are irrelevant. I'd said all along that the game dictates what I need to do. Bob Brenly came here last year and said he wanted to cut down on my pitches. And I still threw more than the year before. That's why I say the pitch count is irrelevant for me. You can plan all you want, but if the score is 2-0 or 1-0, or something like that, and I have 130 pitches, I'm going to stay in there.

"I'm also fortunate because of what I've done in the past, they'll give me the option depending on the situation. They'll ask me if I want to stay in or come out. Again, the game dictates what I do. There was a game [June 26] where the score was 9-0 and I had thrown eight innings. I didn't see the need to go back out there [for a shutout]. Why go out there and throw an inning when you don't have to?"

I happened to be talking with Maddux after Johnson threw 150 pitches to beat Montreal, 5-1, on July 31. Maddux was awed by the effort but cautioned, "Watch what he does his next one or two starts, though. That takes a toll."

All Johnson did was throw a two-hit shutout against the Mets on a day with a heat index of 100 degrees and then strike out 14 batters in beating Florida, 9-2. "Not bad," Maddux said, laughing. "Not the first time I've been wrong."

In his last four starts entering this week Johnson was 4-0 with a 0.82 ERA and 48 strikeouts in 33 innings -- while throwing 101, 150, 113 and 125 pitches in those outings.

"Physically, I feel great," Johnson said. "I had a little bit of a back problem around the All-Star break after I ran into David Bell at first base, but I've gotten through that. Like I've said, I don't pay attention to pitch counts. The game will dictate what I need to do."

Johnson is the only pitcher in baseball who can go beyond 130 pitches and still be better than any fresh arm in his bullpen. Indeed, what is most amazing about the three-time NL Cy Young winner is not only the length he gives his team, but also how darn good he is when everybody else is tiring.

Johnson has held hitters to a .218 average this year. But when he gets past 105 pitches he's even more difficult to hit: .189 with one home run in 74 at-bats. Sustaining the quality of his pitches like that at his age is phenomenal. Need more convincing that Johnson is underappreciated in the era of the specialized bullpen?