When you think about the most important people in baseball history, there are a few very famous men that come to mind: Babe Ruth, Jackie Robinson, Roberto Clemente, Hank Aaron, Ty Cobb.
And maybe you even know about Alexander Cartwright, Henry Chadwick and Branch Rickey (for those who don't, Cartwright is credited as the inventor of baseball, having first written down the rules for the Knickerbocker baseball club; Chadwick created the now−ubiquitous box score; and Rickey was the bold executive who brought Robinson and later Clemente into Major League Baseball, and who is also largely responsible for the minor league system).
All of the above men are in the Hall of Fame, which makes it even more of a shame that another of the most influential men in the game's history, Marvin Miller, is not.
Serving as the director of the Major League Baseball Players Association (MLBPA) from 1966 to 1982, Miller turned the group from an ineffectual organization into one of the most powerful labor unions in the country. With his remarkable negotiation skills, Miller was able to bring about player raises — the first in two decades — in the 1968 collective bargaining agreement, followed by arbitration in 1970. The latter meant that salary disputes between players and owners would be taken to an independent arbiter, who would determine a resolution.
Eventually, arbitration gave way to free agency, arguably the most important achievement of Miller's career — in fact, it's arguably the most important development in the history of baseball business, aside from the 1922 Supreme Court ruling that exempts MLB from antitrust laws (and its 1972 upholding).
Now, I know what you're probably thinking. Unless you're a Yankees or Red Sox fan, you're saying to yourself, "So this is the guy who ruined baseball."
But let me teach you some history about the game. Players were essentially slaves before Miller came along. Since the 19th century, all standard player contracts included something known as the "reserve clause," which gave that player's team the right to retain said player after the contract had expired. All player contracts were one−year deals — giving the players themselves no long−term financial security — but the teams could hold onto their core players for as long as they remained valuable.
Naturally, when the players negotiated their new contracts with their old teams, they didn't have much leverage; they were bound to those team, and consequently, team owners could pay them whatever they deemed appropriate — which was often much less than what was indeed appropriate.
It was largely this atmosphere in baseball that led to the "Black Sox" scandal in 1919, when White Sox players conspired together to fix the World Series.
So, free agency didn't exactly hurt the integrity of the game; it simply awarded players their fair share of profits from the business that was contingent upon them. Under Miller, the average player salary rose from $19,000 per year to $241,000.
Now, here's the real kicker about Miller's Hall of Fame situation. He's not eligible to be voted in by baseball writers. He can only be voted in by the Veterans Committee, a group of 15 former players. And yet these players — the men for whom Miller fought and negotiated, the men who were tremendous beneficiaries of everything Miller did for the game — have not seen fit to include Miller in the Hall of Fame.
That's simply unbelievable. It would be like the Israelites abandoning Moses in the desert after he parted the Red Sea and led them to freedom. (If you haven't figured it out yet, this column has been heavily influenced by the unparalleled Sol Gittleman. I suggest you take a class with him.)
Miller is now 92 years old. If he hasn't gotten into the Hall at this point, it's doubtful that he will in his lifetime, if ever. But the man's contribution to baseball is undeniable. So why baseball continues to deny him is beyond me.
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David Heck is a senior majoring in philosophy. He can be reached at David.Heck@tufts.edu.
