A Well-Paid Slave (32 page)

Cooper, however, refused to stop there. He could not let his moment in the spotlight slip away without expressing his personal views about the reserve clause:

Cooper also predicted that the solution to this lawsuit lay at the bargaining table. He rejected Flood's argument that the owners had refused to negotiate in good faith and expressed optimism that “the reserve clause can be fashioned so as to find acceptance by player and club.” Cooper concluded: “We are bound by the law as we find it and by our obligation to ‘call it as we see it.' ” He ordered judgment for the defendants.

Bowie Kuhn commended Judge Cooper's decision. “I am particularly pleased,” Kuhn read from a prepared statement, “that the court has recognized the need for a reserve system and has recognized further that baseball has not disregarded the extremely important position the player occupies.” The commissioner used Cooper's decision to urge the players to abandon Flood's lawsuit and settle their issues with the reserve clause at the bargaining table.

Miller was unfazed by Cooper's opinion or Kuhn's response. “Judge Cooper only held that it is up to the Supreme Court to overrule the Supreme Court,” he said. “I think everyone knew that it would be very difficult for a district court to overrule the Supreme Court.” Miller chided Kuhn and his call for negotiations as disingenuous given that the union and the owners had agreed not to negotiate about the reserve clause while Flood's lawsuit was pending. The owners, moreover, had never wanted to negotiate about the reserve clause when there was no lawsuit. Miller welcomed sincere efforts by management to modify the reserve clause but doubted any real possibility of change.

Arthur Goldberg heard the news while hiking with a half dozen reporters in the Adirondacks. For this reluctant campaigner, the 10-mile hike was the highlight of the campaign trail. He ditched his conservative suit and vest for a backpack, a sweater, khaki pants, and a jacket. He spoke with environmentalists, slept overnight in a pup tent, and washed in a stream. He won over a few reporters, who discovered beneath Goldberg's aloof and somewhat pompous exterior a real human being.

As he had told Brosnan in the cab, Goldberg saw Cooper's decision coming. “This is the end of the first inning,” Goldberg said from Long Lake, New York. “The second inning will be in the Circuit Court of Appeals.” On August 24, Flood's lawyers filed a notice of appeal.

Phillies general manager John Quinn, informed of Judge Cooper's decision while in Hampton, Virginia, repeated his offer that if Flood “wants to come back and play for the Phillies we'd be happy to take him back.” But Quinn knew that Flood would never play for Philadelphia. On August 31, the Cardinals sent the Phillies Bob Browning, an 18-year-old minor league pitcher on the disabled list with a broken collarbone, as final compensation in the Flood deal.

In Denmark, Flood read about Judge Cooper's decision in the
International Herald Tribune
. He, too, viewed it as a perfunctory step on the way to the Supreme Court. Flood told reporters that Denmark was his “permanent home.” He had begun negotiations to buy a restaurant-bar but was having trouble obtaining a liquor license. His only American visitor was his onetime girlfriend, Judy Pace. American soldiers on leave from Germany kept him abreast of the baseball season. They told him about the success of Bob Gibson (who won the 1970 Cy Young Award), the failure of the Cardinals (who finished fourth in the NL East), and the World Series victory by the Orioles.

Flood's financial problems began to weigh on his conscience. The IRS and other creditors hounded him. He owed his ex-wife, Beverly, back alimony and child support. He realized that it looked like he was running away from his debts. He viewed Copenhagen no longer as “a vacation resort but a jail.”

A phone call from a
Washington Post
reporter offered him an escape.

W
ashington Post
sportswriter Leonard Shapiro told the transat- lantic operator to dial 891-711 in Vedbaek, Denmark.

Curt Flood picked up the phone.

Shapiro asked Flood what he thought about playing for the Washington Senators. The previous day, Senators owner Bob Short had upstaged the last day of the Orioles-Reds World Series by agreeing to send utility player Greg Goossen to the Philadelphia Phillies just for the right to negotiate with Flood.

“This is the first I've heard of it,” Flood said. “Are you really calling from America? I have a lot of flaky friends in Denmark.”

Flood expressed interest in playing for the Senators to Shapiro but doubted that he could do so without prejudicing his legal battle against the reserve clause. “If I signed a contract with that clause, I'd be making a big farce of my case,” Flood said. “I'm seriously fighting it. How can I fight it on the one hand and accept it on the other? It would be ludicrous.”

A few moments after Flood hung up the phone with Shapiro, Short called. Flood repeated that he wanted to play baseball but that he had no desire to jeopardize his lawsuit. He referred any other questions to his lawyers. But Short was not giving up that easily. He explained that sitting out an entire season was enough of a financial and professional sacrifice to sustain Flood's lawsuit. It was time for Flood to play ball. During a second phone conversation with Flood, Short knew he had him. Flood was talking about how much he loved the game and missed playing it. Short offered to fly to Denmark or have Flood fly to Short's home base in Minneapolis. Instead, Flood agreed to fly to New York City, on Short's dime, to discuss the possibility of playing for the Senators. Flood sent a telegram to Marvin Miller about his impending meeting with Short and headed for New York.

A Minneapolis-based hotel and trucking magnate, Robert Earl Short could talk anyone into anything. In February 1969, about two months after buying the Senators, he talked Ted Williams out of retirement and into managing. It happened to be the same year that Williams's deferred payments ended from the Boston Red Sox. More than eight years since his last game with the Red Sox, Williams had no desire to manage or to leave his life of fishing and leisure in the Florida Keys. Short engineered a return phone call from Williams by pretending to leave a message from American League president Joe Cronin but with Short's phone number. Williams could not resist Short's sales pitch. Few could.

Short possessed the persistence of a lawyer, the people skills of a politician, and the hucksterism of a businessman. A Georgetown law graduate, he was the youngest delegate to the 1940 Democratic convention at age 21. He ran Hubert Humphrey's 1964 vice-presidential campaign and later served as the treasurer of the Democratic National Committee. He bought the nearly bankrupt Minneapolis Lakers in 1957, moved them to Los Angeles three years later, and began building a basketball dynasty by talking Elgin Baylor out of returning to college for his senior season and Jerry West into signing by hiring West's college coach, Fred Schaus. Short sold the Lakers in 1965 to Jack Kent Cooke for an NBA-record $5.175 million because, as Dodgers owner Walter O'Malley advised Short, for that kind of money he could get into baseball.

Three years and $9.4 million later, Short purchased the Senators, leveraging himself to the hilt to buy the team after his partner backed out. He figured that the tax benefits from depreciating his ballplayers like machinery would offset profits from his trucking and hotel businesses. The profits, however, never materialized, and the losses from the Senators mounted. Short threatened to move the franchise to Dallas- Fort Worth unless things changed in Washington. He wanted a rent-free lease at RFK Stadium, all the profits from parking and concessions, and a radio and television contract that rivaled those of other major league cities.

Short believed that he could put people into the stands by identifying the Senators with “faces.” Ted Williams was a face. So was troubled Detroit Tigers pitcher Denny McLain. A week before contacting Flood, Short had traded pitcher Joe Coleman, who went on to win 20 games for the Tigers in 1971, and the left side of the Senators' infield, shortstop Eddie Brinkman and third baseman Aurelio Rodriguez, in a seven-player deal for the former 31-game winner and failed bookmaker, McLain. Williams was furious about the McLain trade and particularly about the loss of Brinkman and Rodriguez. But McLain was a face.

In Flood, Short focused on a new face, a black face for a majority-black city thirsting for a black star. “I think Flood can be merchandised in this town,” Short said. Flood piqued Short's interest at the owners' meeting July 29-30 in Montreal. Rumors surfaced before the meeting that the owners wanted to settle Flood's lawsuit. Short was the only owner supposedly in favor of a cash settlement. What Short wanted to do was to avoid paying his share of the owners' $1 million in projected legal fees. At the meeting, he proposed that someone other than the Phillies be given the opportunity to sign Flood. And if that was not possible, then the Phillies should pay the bulk of the legal fees. After the meeting, Phillies general manager John Quinn facetiously asked the Senators owner if he could sign Flood. Short said yes, he could. Quinn responded that they could not discuss a possible trade until after Judge Cooper's decision.

During the World Series, in Cincinnati, Short again approached Quinn about Flood. Short offered Quinn $100,000. Quinn, however, wanted ballplayers. Later that week, after consulting with Bowie Kuhn, they announced the deal at the official World Series hotel in downtown Baltimore. They agreed on Greg Goossen for the right to negotiate with Flood, and an additional player and the Senators' number one draft pick in the 1971 amateur draft if Flood signed. Quinn saw no chance of Flood's signing with Philadelphia and not much chance of his signing with Washington. “What the hell,” Quinn said in Baltimore. “We've got nothing to lose.” Like most people, Quinn underestimated the power of Short's sales pitch. “I'm going to sign Curt Flood,” Short said. “You can make book on that.”

On October 22, Flood arrived in New York City. Two days later, Flood, Goldberg, associate Max Gitter, Miller, and Moss met with Short at Goldberg's apartment at the Pierre Hotel. It was ten days before Election Day. Goldberg trailed badly against incumbent Nelson Rockefeller in the New York gubernatorial race. That summer, Goldberg had asked Miller for a photo opportunity in the New York Mets clubhouse, and Miller had reluctantly agreed. Miller, Goldberg, Goldberg's running mate, Basil Paterson, and writer Jimmy Breslin rode in a limousine to Shea Stadium for a Mets-Cubs game. Breslin talked Goldberg's ear off about drug treatment issues. All Goldberg wanted was to get his picture taken with Cubs legend Ernie Banks. Their starkly different agendas indicated how unenthusiastic Goldberg was about running for office. At one point during the game, Goldberg came close to apologizing to Miller for breaking his promise not to run. “It wasn't supposed to turn out like this,” Goldberg said.

During the meeting with Short at Goldberg's apartment, Goldberg and Miller sought to protect Flood's lawsuit while reaching an agreement that would get Flood back into a major league uniform. Goldberg agreed with Short's analysis that Flood could play for the Senators in 1971 without prejudicing the lawsuit. By sitting out the entire 1970 season, Flood had incurred actual damages and created a real “case or controversy.” The lawsuit would not be moot if Flood retook the field.

Miller insisted that Flood not sign a contract containing the reserve clause. The layman in Miller feared that the Supreme Court would use Flood's Senators contract as an excuse to declare the lawsuit moot. “In my mind's eye, my mind's ear, I could hear a Supreme Court justice asking Goldberg, ‘How do you explain this, Counsel?' ” Miller recalled. “It was very practical.”

Goldberg handed Short a two-page memo containing six modifications to the Uniform Player Contract with the following goals:

Short agreed to all their demands on the spot. He offered Flood a two-year contract worth $100,000 per season.

As much as Flood loved the game, the real reason he decided to come back was the money. In addition to the back alimony and child support payments he owed to Beverly, the IRS was after him, he had two lawsuits pending against him and his corporation in St. Louis, and he had failed to start up his restaurant-bar and had no income while he was living in Copenhagen. He found it difficult to maintain the lifestyle of a ballplayer without a ballplayer's salary. Taking on the reserve clause was breaking him mentally and financially. Short, who had built up $6 million in organizational debt as the treasurer of the Democratic National Committee and piled up debt as the owner of the Senators, promised to help Flood get his own personal finances in order. Two $100,000 annual salaries would definitely help.

Three hours after the meeting, Short returned to the apartment with bad news about their deal: “Commissioner Kuhn will not permit it.” No one had ever modified the Uniform Player Contract. The commissioner's office was not going to allow Flood to set a precedent by signing a contract without the reserve clause. The only thing that Sandy Hadden, Kuhn's counsel, agreed to was a statement that signing the Uniform Player Contract would not prejudice Flood's lawsuit.