What do athletes owe us?
Shohei Ohtani wanted secrecy and mostly got it. Did his free agency pursuit deprive us of needed offseason drama?
Barry Bonds was criticized for a lot of things during his career, including how few autographs he signed. He usually ignored all criticism. I remember once he lamented how actors are not expected to stand outside a movie theatre and sign autographs after the movie ends, so why should baseball players?
“Why can’t you just enjoy the show and let me go home to get ready for the next show?” he once said.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what is expected of athletes and what athletes actually owe us.
The backdrop is based on the incredibly secretive negotiations for free agent baseball superstar Shohei Ohtani, his recent agreement with the Los Angeles Dodgers for a guaranteed $700 million, and the even more recent discovery that he’s deferring $680 until after his contract expires.
I first started thinking about this “what do athletes owe us” about a month ago, when the Oakland Athletics announced they were moving to Las Vegas, and there was some chatter on social media about whether A’s legends Rickey Henderson and Dave Stewart could have – or should have – done more to save their hometown team from leaving for another city. [Short story, they couldn’t have done anything to stop it.]
So, really, what do athletes owe us?
The short logical answer is the owe us their best performance on the field. They are paid exuberant sums of money that leads to generational wealth – money they absolutely earn – and they should deliver their best effort, regardless of their team’s record or chances at winning a championship.
I mean, that’s obvious. But what else?
Sure, we’d like them to connect with the public, whether it’s waving at adoring fans, or taking a photo with a kid who made a cute sign, or scribbling their signature for people. It’s even better if they donate their time to worthy charitable causes, lift up others, encourage the next generation. Almost all athletes do this. In fact, more than you realize have their own foundation to raise money and bring awareness to less privileged.
So those aren’t required, but they’re mostly expected. So what else?
Do athletes owe us an entertaining or insightful interview after a game? Once they leave the stadium or arena, do they owe us interactions on social media?
Sure, it might help us connect with them more, like them more, and cheer for them harder in the future. It’s certainly good for their brand to connect with fans. It can lead to more marketing opportunities, more money, a job after their playing career ends, and just an overall better purpose for why the game they play matters to so many people.
But do they owe us those things? Not really.
In the offseason, do they owe us entertainment in the name of growing their sport?
This was one of the narratives with Ohtani’s free agency. Ohtani is notoriously private. Via his agent, Ohtani demanded that interested teams not leak any information about the free agency process, or else it might be held against them in his final decision. As the greatest baseball player on the planet, teams acquiesced to his request.
As Ohtani’s pursuit neared its conclusion, frustrated reporters and other assorted media talking heads criticized the two-way Japanese sensation, and baseball leaders, for not making his free agency more of a spectacle that might generate offseason interest and grow the sport.
Personally, I think the lack of information – real or contrived – actually added to the drama.
The Dodgers were presumed to the front runner because of their money, location, and history. But we didn’t know for sure which teams were interested in Ohtani, let alone which teams might be among the finalists. Dodgers manager Dave Roberts caused a bit of a stir when he publicly acknowledged a meeting and interest. Crazy, huh, that the team with the most money would want the best player on the planet?
Ohtani signed with the Dodgers, the logical team all along, and ultimately, Roberts breaking the silent code didn’t matter.
The final days, with a chartered flight getting tracked from Anaheim to Toronto that presumably had Ohtani aboard to sign a contract with the Toronto Blue Jays, only to find out it was a dude from Shark Tank, is the type of crossover publicity you could never script.
Ohtani wanted secrecy and he mostly got it. That’s his prerogative. He didn’t owe baseball a reality-TV style competition with roses to teams that were among his finalists. Ohtani also doesn’t owe the fans of the teams that were known to court him an explanation.
Sometimes, the less you say, the better anyway. Ohtani’s countryman, Ichiro Suzuki, benefited from his mysteriousness and Zen-like approach to the game. Ichiro spoke some English, but used a translator for his interviews with English reporters.
The former reporter in me wants the access, wants the introspection, and wants all the details – before games, after games, and in the offseason.
The consumer in me wants to, like Barry Bonds requested, just enjoy the show.
A few final scattered thoughts about Ohtani.
The Dodgers are going to be hated even more than they are already hated. The richest team got the best player *and* they are deferring $680 million for 10 years, so they can sign other players. Sports are good with villains. The Dodgers are the biggest villain in baseball.
Ohtani is going to hear boos for the first time in his career. I’m not saying he deserves them. His pitching/hitting skills are so unique, it’s left fans in awe. He was universally cheered across the country. Not anymore. As Reggie Jackson famously said, “they don’t boo nobody’s.” Ohtani is going to get booed. A lot. We don’t know for sure how that’s going to impact him because, again, he does so few interviews and is so guarded. But I suspect it’s going to negatively impact him, at least initially.
Yes, even more teams, and even more players, are going to defer substantial millions of dollars for after their career ends. It makes sense. Ohtani will make so much money in endorsements, making “only” $2 million a year won’t impact him. I mean, you can only spend so much money anyway.
What will be interesting is exactly how athletes invest that money. Do they want to become an owner, like Michael Jordan? Do they want to donate a billion dollars to the United Nations, like Ted Turner? Do they want to transform a city that matters to them by build multiple businesses, like Magic Johnson? Knowing Ohtani, we won’t know until he wants us to know.