While it’s still the final stretch of this summer’s pennant chase and his team remains in contention for the playoffs, Bowden’s already worrying about the 2000 race. On a drizzly afternoon at Cinergy Field, on the shores of the Ohio River, the Reds are pounding the Florida Marlins. The always-frenetic Bowden watches some from his private box, but he’s barking orders to an assistant about a pitcher named Mel Rojas. Currently washed out of baseball at 32, Rojas used to be a premier closer. But in the course of three years he became the baseball equivalent of Pavlov: when he pitched, hitters drooled. The guy stunk. Why on earth does Bowden want to consider offering him a job? He’s got a hunch. “I think there’s something wrong with his shoulder,” Bowden tells his aide. “Let’s get him an MRI.” Just maybe Rojas needs good medical treatment and his career can be resuscitated–and Bowden can sign an ex-star for peanuts.
Through a series of wily moves, Bowden has made the Reds the surprise of the National League this year. Along with the Oakland Athletics in the American League, they’re the fiscal Cinderellas of a sport that increasingly is dominated by big-market–and deep-pocketed–teams in such cities as New York, Atlanta and Cleveland. Spending a lot on players is no guarantee of winning–the Los Angeles Dodgers and Baltimore Orioles have the highest payrolls behind the Yankees, and they’re pathetic.
Yet there’s no doubting a significant correlation between dollars and victories. Small-market teams like the Reds and Athletics–little engines that could–have to make do with less. Their player payrolls ($33 million and $23 million, respectively) are in the lower third of baseball’s 30 teams and far below the record $85 million the Yankees spend. Together, the Yankees’ top three players make more than the entire Athletics’ team combined. NEWSWEEK’s calculation of a team’s cost per victory (graphic) highlights the disparity. How the penny-pinching Reds and Athletics prosper in a world of fat cats is an object lesson in running a business.
Through shrewd trades, gambles on old players and young ones (Bowden scouts 12-year-olds) and a dose of luck, they’ve put together clubs that have managed to compete. Billy Beane, the Athletics’ GM, compares his own style to that of Native Americans long ago. “We have to try to take advantage of every piece of the buffalo’s carcass and discard nothing,” he likes to say. “Most of our players seem to be 22 or 42–we can’t afford the ones in between.”
In Cincinnati, Bowden’s been at it since 1992–when, at 31, he became the youngest baseball GM in history. The key for Bowden is obsessively gathering information. Unlike a batter who focuses on nothing other than the next pitch, a baseball GM has a dozen balls to keep track of. Fiscal necessity has forced Bowden to become a bottom feeder, pursuing “guys who’ve been injured, guys who haven’t played in a year, guys who have a bad attitude.” His most recent reclamation project: Pete Harnisch, a starting pitcher dumped by the New York Mets after becoming very hittable, as well as receiving a diagnosis of depression. With a fresh start, in two years with the Reds he’s won 28 games. By taking a chance on Harnisch, Bowden was able to initially sign him for a mere $300,000 for the 1998 season. While Harnisch has since gotten a substantial raise, he still makes far less than a top pitcher. Used parts, though, aren’t enough to build a contender. Bowden spent a third of the Reds’ payroll on two anchoring players, shortstop Barry Larkin and slugger Greg Vaughn.
For his part, the 37-year-old Beane attributes the Athletics’ great year to “an alignment of the stars.” Not only have his greenhorns continued to mature and thrive (Jason Giambi, Ben Grieve, Tim Hudson), but his winter acquisition of designated hitter John Jaha was baseball alchemy–and for only $400,000. Beane’s bet was that the frequently injured Jaha could string together a solid year. In a matter of months, Jaha went from a Milwaukee has-been to Oakland’s All-Star representative. Near this summer’s trading deadline, in a daring set of moves, Beane jettisoned his aging No. 1 starter (Kenny Rogers) and reliever (Billy Taylor) and got back six younger, cheaper players.
For low-budget teams, however, prosperity comes at a price. If the Reds or Athletics make the playoffs and win the World Series, they’ll be miracle stories. Unfortunately, their next year will be a nightmare. Success drives up salaries. “The trouble with young, talented players,” Beane says, “is that they quickly become expensive, talented players.” Beane-counting already, he thinks his $23 million payroll would cost $35 million next year. Bowden so bemoans the economic realities that an aide teases him about his “daily calls” to the commissioner’s office to complain about baseball economics. It’s enough to make one dream about the triumphal return of Mel Rojas.
