Jered Weaver’s decision is one many top players should make, but won’t

Stars in their prime, more often than not, ask for the world financially on the free-agent market. Sports is a business for most, but not for Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim ace Jered Weaver.

The 28-year-old righthander and one of the best pitchers in baseball is represented by the infamous Scott Boras, who clearly tries to get the most for his clients and himself. That didn’t happen this time. Weaver was offered a five-year deal worth $85 million earlier this week and gladly accepted, stunning Boras and the game of baseball.

The decision was surprising for three reasons. First, he went against Boras’s advice. Second, he decided to sign an extension with just the 2012 season left on his previous contract. And third, he took much less than he is believed to be worth.

Given his talent and age, he could have received a contract similar to CC Sabathia’s with New York on the open market, meaning seven years and $161 million. He may have left $76 million on the table, but he could care less.

“If $85 (million) is not enough to take care of my family and other generations of families then I’m pretty stupid, but how much money do you really need in life?” Weaver said Tuesday, as documented by ESPN. “I’ve never played this game for the money. I played it for the love and the competitive part of it. It just so happens that baseball’s going to be taking care of me for the rest of my life.

“How much more do you need? Could have got more, whatever. Who cares?”

So much money is handed out in sports that it is easy to overlook just how much money a million dollars is, let alone $85 million. The amount of money that is in baseball, especially, is mindboggling, but who in the world of sports these days says what he did? It is clearly evident that Weaver’s attitude needs to be contagious.

To Boras, Weaver’s deal must have been construed as a mere pittance. Weaver said his agent, at first, wasn’t altogether supportive of his taking what was deemed a hometown discount.

“Obviously, he wants to give you the best options and free agency can give you the best options,” Weaver said. “He would have liked to have seen me gone, but I told him I wanted to get something done and he was more than willing to work with me about it that way.”

Weaver’s decision is to be applauded. It is still $85 million for someone to throw ball at different speeds to other players swinging a piece of wood, but leaving money out there to be had, taking only what the ridiculously lucrative market gives him, and admittedly playing strictly for the love of the game is a rarity. He is thinking of the team, of its future. How considerate of him.

Of course there are plenty of players who play solely for the game. Why else would .200 hitting journeymen bounce around from team to team, and why else would washed up stars keep playing? But, as for the stars in their prime, potentially extravagant paydays seem to weigh heavily on their consciences.

Once upon a time, before Curt Flood’s 1969 case ultimately brought in free-agency, baseball was solely a game–played by players, not littered with investments and expensive risks. Sure there were disputes financially, but players didn’t often change teams because of them. They didn’t look ahead to potential paydays; they looked ahead to the next game. They played through injuries more, too. Back then, baseball was simpler, more about the Thrill of the Grass than dollars and cents. It isn’t difficult to argue that many if not all of the changes to create the current game is due to the amount of money flooding through it.

What’s the harm in taking $120 million over their presumptive demands of $200-plus million when the former is enough money for generations upon generations to live comfortably? What’s the harm in taking even less than that to keep from hamstringing the team’s financial future?

I try to ignore the money side. When I hear about contracts, about $100 million thrown here, and another nine figures thrown there, I just shake my head. Reading about the past, about Willie Mays, Roberto Clemente, Bobby Thomson, Satchel Paige, among others, I long for those days–when players weren’t protected because of their salaries, when complete games were rampant, when it was okay to barrel into the catcher and take out infielders, when they played with broken toes, fingers, and who knows what else, and when they had to keep an eye on their finances.

As Shoeless Joe Jackson, played by Ray Liotta in the wonderful 1989 film Field of Dreams, said to Ray Kinsella, played by Kevin Costner:

“Man, I did love this game. I’d have played for food money. It was the game, the sounds, the smells. I used to love traveling on the trains from town to town. The hotels, brass spittoons in the lobbies…brass beds in the rooms. It was the crowd…rising to their feet when the ball was hit deep. I’d play for nothing.”

There is a lot to like about the game now, but it shouldn’t be expected that Weaver’s decision and mindset will often duplicate. Nor should Shoeless Joe’s. And that’s a shame.

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