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And Then The Clock Showed 00:00
Robert H. Boyle
September 27, 1982
So it was sudden death—for pro football fans, that is—as the NFL Players Association called a strike against the game's owners, beginning this week
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September 27, 1982

And Then The Clock Showed 00:00

So it was sudden death—for pro football fans, that is—as the NFL Players Association called a strike against the game's owners, beginning this week

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At 4:30 Monday afternoon, Ed Garvey, the executive director of the NFLPA, and eight players, six of them from the union's executive committee, entered the Morgan Room on the second floor of Halloran House, a midtown Manhattan hotel. Garvey introduced the players to the assembled media and then turned the microphone over to the president of the union, Gene Upshaw of the Raiders.

"This announcement comes with no pleasure whatsoever," Upshaw began. "At the conclusion of tonight's game between the Giants and Green Bay, all NFL training facilities will be struck. There will be no practices, workouts, or training. No games will be played until management abandons its unlawful course and engages in good-faith bargaining and executes a fair and equitable agreement. We are prepared to withhold our services, however long it takes. We have a solid front. The first game it will affect will be Thursday [Sept. 23]...."

How long will the first regular-season strike in the league's 63 years last? If it isn't settled before Sunday, Sept. 26, it may well continue for a month. According to Upshaw, it will take the owners three weeks to feel the economic pinch. "We've said that we're prepared to stay out one day longer than they are," says Joseph A. (Chip) Yablonski, an NFLPA labor counsel and a union heavyweight in his own right; he led the reform of the United Mine Workers after his father, mother and sister were murdered in 1969.

According to Upshaw, 94% of the players agree with the union's position. But more is at stake than issues. Negotiations with the NFL Management Council, led by its executive director, Jack Donlan, began last February but, essentially, went nowhere. Many union members blame Donlan, who gained a reputation as a tough negotiator when he worked for the now defunct National Airlines. "Shoot-from-the-hip Jack Donlan," says Yablonski. "I would think that the owners would now supplement their bargaining committee with new faces, but they may leave Donlan there because to remove him would be to admit a horrible mistake. Given Donlan's lack of credibility, there could be no handshake deal. Everything will have to be written out."

The players don't intend to set up picket lines, as they did in 1974 when they struck training camps and exhibition games. "I've told them it's like a strike in which 140,000 coal miners in 24 states never show up for work," says Yablonski.

The key issues are:

1) Money. Last Friday, in the final negotiating session before the strike, the union withdrew its demand for a 55% share of the NFL's gross revenues, a demand that Upshaw once declared was "etched in stone." Donlan had flat out rejected a percentage of the gross, be it 55, 40 or 20%, because, he said, it would make the union partners with the owners. So the union asked the league to create a player's compensation fund of $1.6 billion over the next four years, the money comprised of 50% of TV revenues during that period plus other funds. Why did the union change its stance? Pure p.r. As Garvey said, "To all the arguments that a percentage of the gross would make us partners with the owners, we say nonsense. But we thought it wise to shift to the TV revenues, which in essence follows the same idea. It's been a tough sell for most people, the public, that the players should get 55 percent of the gross, but a 50-50 split of the TV revenues seems fair."

In short, the union wants $1.6 billion over four years. On this issue, the two sides don't seem far apart. Donlan says the NFL will give the players the $1.6 billion but over five years. "That's an average of one million dollars a player during the life of the contract," he said. In words that may well memorialize the strike, Garvey retorted, "I am convinced they're offering $1.6 billion about as much as I'm convinced there's a tooth fairy."

2) How the money should be paid. The NFL has offered to pay each player $10,000 for each year since 1977; any player with six or more years in the NFL would get $60,000 in credited service pay, plus another $10,000 when a contract is signed with the union. As far as salaries go, the league prefers the old system, with each team deciding who gets how much. The NFL says that if the teams haven't paid out the $1.6 billion in five years, it will give the remainder to the players to whack up among themselves. The union says no dice. It insists on a wage scale with incentives and performance bonuses. Is this etched in stone? "Absolutely," vows Garvey.

Here's how the union plan would work. Instead of a player negotiating his own contract, he would be paid a set salary based on his years in the NFL. For instance, all players would get the same annual base wage of $127,000 in their third season. Above scale earnings would begin to vary. Also, any player who had made the Pro Bowl would get an extra $6,000 for each time he had played in that game. For example, Pittsburgh Middle Linebacker Jack Lambert, who had spoken out against the union until he attended its Albuquerque convention in March, when this plan was fine-tuned, would get $42,000 tacked onto his base pay because he's played in seven Pro Bowls. Starting this year, a player would have $11,000 added to his base for each future Pro Bowl selection.

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