By Jim Israel

June 4, 2010

E-mail: jamesisrael77@yahoo.com

It’s Time to Go…Let’s study for a moment a film [now on DVD] that Mr. Gripes has no intention of ever viewing, but for whom one brief glance at a theatre trailer told him everything he needed to know:  that is, the movie stunk. The film is ‘Extraordinary Measures,’ starring that old, leathery stegosaurus Harrison Ford. The plot? My readers, undoubtedly observers of too many bad films themselves, have certainly seen a version of this a million times: A stylish, yuppie couple is confronted with a horrific scenario: their child, angelic in mien, comes down with a debilitating illness, and no one can furnish a diagnosis as the child’s condition worsens.

Remote, despotic doctors turn them away, telling the parents they can do nothing. The desperate parents have no place to turn to. Then, a miracle happens: they fortuitously meet our humble hero, himself long shunned by the medical establishment, who initiates a fight against a ferocious bureaucracy and heartless doctors; lo-and-behold, the child’s life is saved. It’s Hollywood tear-jerking garbage, and it’s been a theme that’s been recycled for eons. In this version, Mr. Ford is the savior, exclaiming at one point in a bellow of outrage, as he sits at his desk, “No one tells me how to run my lab!” Imagine: these words emerge from the mouth of the same person who years ago fought off a gazillion slithery snakes, rescued voluptuous damsels from the clutches of swarthy, scimitar-wielding criminals, and halted runaway vehicles while hanging on to the roof by his fingernails. Now, he’s behind a desk, running a laboratory. Whoopee.

Final worldwide box-office receipts: $11 million, which was probably a fraction of the amount of cash some poor sap-producer was compelled to folk over for Mr. Ford’s services. Stick a folk in him. Harrison, you’re done.

_____________________________________________

Saving themselves from themselves – Let’s get something straight right off the bat: Mr. Gripes, despite his often oracular, know-it-all tone, doesn’t for one minute think he’s as smart or as shrewd as most of those top-dog chief executives we hear and read about so much. Hey, to get to be king-of-the-hill of any large institution certainly takes a lot of brains, patience, tenacity and superior social skills. But, Mr. Gripes is certain of this: almost to a man, these big shots are not only totally wrong, they’re borderline hysterical about one issue: regulation.

Lately, with great impetus from the right’s almost pathological screed about free enterprise, Big Business screams constantly that profits in their particular industry will be severely diminished and their ability to run their businesses crippled if powerful regulations are put in place.

Mr. Gripes takes an entirely different tack: he thinks an intelligent, properly managed, no-loophole regulatory climate is a boon to industry. In fact, strong oversight measures may indeed save these very institutions from destroying themselves in an orgy of greed not dissimilar to the debacle we’ve witnessed over the past few years. As history has shown repeatedly, boom times plant the seeds of institutional euphoria and amnesia, which lead to self-immolation. Regulation can act as a buffer.

Look at the awful British Petroleum oil-spill in the Gulf, for example: if the oil industry had invested just $500,000 [per rig] in a shut-down safety device, instead of going all-out to defeat a proposal that would have mandated the use of the mechanism on drilling platforms [I’m not surprised it was defeated – after all, since 2002, the oil industry has spent a mind-boggling $893 million on lobbying efforts.], this whole sordid, costly mess could possibly have been avoided. By rejecting a piece of safety equipment costing a picayune half-a-million dollars, BP will end up squandering tens of billions of its hard-earned assets.

To get this regulation defeated, the oil companies very likely lied about its efficacy as well; they persuaded Congress that the safety equipment did not work, even as European countries reported this particular gizmo in their oil fields has operated successfully and without problems for years. BP is a prime example of how a company’s insistence on short-term profits over prudent long-term management of its resources eventually causes great damage to the institution.

How about the big banks and Wall Street? Institutions such as Citicorp, in their pell-mell stampede for profits, simply lost their heads, and put their very institutions at risk with their over-leveraged loans, off-the-balance-sheet obfuscations, and a host of other barely legal stratagems. And, where did it get Citicorp in the end? When the dust cleared after the apocalypse of 2008, Citicorp had given back TEN years of profit, basically falling into insolvency. Mr. Gripes will say it again: Citicorp, and essentially every other large financial institution, in the absence of firm oversight and accountability, ran off the cliff, jeopardizing their very existence. If there had been tough regulations without exceptions in place, and competent individuals to implement them, Citicorp would still be today a sound, profitable and proud institution, instead of a shell of its former self. That’s irrefutable.

But, unfortunately, these corporations never learn. The allure of huge year-end bonuses propels senior management to game the system constantly – deception and concealment are the orders of the day still. That inevitably leads to big trouble. Just the other day, Mr. Gripes read in the Wall Street Journal that, even after all the losses and all the shame, Citicorp still creates fictitious quarterly statements; Mr. Gripes is no expert on this, but the legerdemain involved offloading some assets to create a false picture of reduced liabilities and less leverage. At its essence, it’s really a blatant manipulation of the stock price, and that’s patently dishonest. Yet they’re still doing this. Companies just cannot help themselves.

My point: Regulations, done correctly, save avaricious corporations, in their insatiable and all-consuming drive for profit now, from an ultimate demise. Never underestimate, readers, the ability of businesses to run blindly over cliffs in their maniacal push for returns. Staggering, runaway profits always bring on rampant institution-wide denial. Regulations and rules would prevent these companies from injuring themselves, or even committing suicide.

Ah, baseball…It’s finally a beautiful spring in New York, and Mr. Gripes’ thoughts, usually informed of rage and disappointment, relent occasionally this time of year to reflect on the eternally fascinating game of baseball. At his age, Mr. Gripes no longer concerns himself with which teams are up or down, winning or losing; nothing’s less interesting and forgotten more rapidly than last year’s season, or, as a long-ago football coach of mine once confessed, “At my age I don’t root for teams, I root for people.” That’s Mr. Gripes’ credo, too. In that vein, here are some nuggets from the mother lode that is baseball.

The Washington Nationals, in their minor leagues, are nurturing along perhaps the most phenomenal ‘phenom’ of all time: pitcher Stephen Strasburg, 22 years old, with a signing-bonus check of $15 million nesting serenely in his back pocket, has played professionally for barely three months; his particular gifts include a fastball that generally proceeds at a velocity of over 100 miles per hour, and a curve ball that moves just a bit slower, but that is endowed with superlative break and drop. He doesn’t walk anybody either. [I’m reminded of something said of another phenomenal pitcher, Brooklyn/Los Angeles Dodger Sandy Koufax: an opposing batter described the agonizing task of facing Mr. Koufax as akin to ‘drinking coffee with a folk’.]

Mr. Strasburg’s debut in the major leagues will occur within the next two weeks, and anticipation is enormous; in fact, a recently retired major league pitcher conjectured that “Mr. Strasburg, on the very first day he comes up to the major leagues, will likely at that moment be considered by his peers the No. 1 pitcher in baseball [without throwing a pitch].” Mr. Gripes can’t wait.

Tucked far away in the Northwest, essentially ignored by baseball aficionados elsewhere, resides a hitting genius: he’s Ichiro Suzuki, though no one ever mentions his last name; Mr. Suzuki goes by ‘Ichiro’ only; with all the emphasis on the first syllable, his fans cry out [phonetically], ‘EESH-a-ro, EESH-a-ro.’ He’s played nine years in America, and has amassed over 200 hits every year, 2,100 in total, a spectacular achievement. [This year, he’s near the top in hits as usual, and is batting .346] And his American career commenced after 8 years in Japanese professional baseball, in which he accumulated 1,300 hits [shorter season] and won the batting-average title in Japan seven consecutive years.

Rail-thin, 170 pounds, and as quick as mercury, he possesses a very odd batting stance, with a quirky personality to boot. He’s one-of-a-kind, and a baseball treasure.  Seattle Mariner fans absolutely adore him. And he’s not done by any means: he’s conceivably going to end up with 3,000 hits in the American big leagues, after coming over here at the age of 28. It’s been a monumental career already.

Mr. Gripes has a particularly grandiose question to ask: What’s been the most successful labor-organizing movement in world history?

You had an inkling, right? — The Major League Baseball Players Association [MLBPA]. From its infancy in the late 1960’s, after a half-century of basically indentured servitude binding players to a single team without any recourse to move to another team, the players finally comprehended their Marx and Engels:  we, the players, hold ALL the cards – we’re both labor and product. Recognizing that obvious dynamic gave the players – and their union – the hammer.

But, it sure wasn’t easy. As mentioned, the owners, from the major leagues’ inception, did not allow ballplayers to move to other teams.  Players had no leverage at all, and owners exploited them ceaselessly, keeping salaries extremely low.

There were exceptions, of course: Bath Ruth had the clout and frequently did not report to spring training until he got his money. One winter, after he signed following a long hold-out, Mr. Ruth at a press conference was asked how could he justify making more money [$80,000] than the President [Herbert Hoover]. Stupid question, the Bambino answered with piercing logic, “I had a better year than he did.”  You have to love the Babe.

Early union meetings were not exactly auspicious. Robin Roberts, Phillies Hall of Fame pitcher and an organizer back then in the 1960’s, recalled that a half-dozen players would chat about union matters for about  half-hour, then break for some beers, and end up playing cards for the rest of the evening.

By 1970, the baseball players had had enough. With Marvin Miller, who formerly worked with the Steelworkers Union, now running the show, players, carrying around 60 years of grievance and mistreatment, suddenly showed resolve. Tim McCarver, catcher with the Cardinals, attended a player-rep meeting, 50 to 75 guys, in which Mr. Miller recommended the players NOT go out on strike, and take the owners’ latest offer. Mr. McCarver recalled that, in a split second, every man sitting there raised his head off his chest in unison, possessing one thought:  “Bleep that. We’re going out.” The union from that moment on has won virtually every fight.

Want proof? In 1975, the average salary of a major league professional baseball player was $44,676; by 1985, $371,571, an 800% increase; today, 2010, the salary average is $3,340,133.

Here’s something else the union won: a sumptuous buffet after the game in the clubhouse. The baseball clubs in some stadiums, in fact, hire chefs to prepare dishes for the players. I can almost visualize it: “Your anchovies-and-brocoli-rabe crustini are coming up in five minutes, Mr. Pujois,” or, “Mr. Rodriguez, It’s medium-rare, just the way you like your venison-and-rhubarb stew.”  What the hell happened to boiled hot dogs and limp French fries? Maybe it’s time to bust the union.

Comments are certainly welcome. E-mail to: jamesisrael77@yahoo.com