“Does the telegram tell you just whom or what you’ve been traded for?” asked his father.
“No, that’s the exasperating thing about it,” replied Joe. “It just says that I’ve been traded to the Giants but it doesn’t give any details. I don’t even know who sent it except that it comes from some official of the club. I’m anxious to know, not only from curiosity, but because there may have been some money passed in addition to a player, and in that case I may get a little slice of it for myself.”
“Somehow, I don’t exactly like the use of the word ‘traded,’” said Mrs. Matson, reflectively. “It seems to leave your own wishes out of the matter altogether. Of course, in this case you’re pleased, but even if you weren’t you’d have to submit to it just the same.”
“I feel a little the same way,” agreed Clara. “It’s almost as though you were so much merchandise, a sack of wheat, a ton of coal, or something of that kind.”
“Of course, that is one of the unpleasant features of the game,” admitted Joe. “But as a matter of fact, it can’t be helped. If every one were left free to act entirely for himself, the big leagues would go to pieces in less than no time. Players would be jumping from one team to another every week, and no manager would know what he had to depend on. There’s such a tremendous amount of money invested—you couldn’t buy out the Giant club at this minute for less than two million dollars—that the men at the head have to take some means to protect themselves. Some of their methods wouldn’t stand the test, perhaps, if they were taken to court, but it would be a very foolish player who would seek a court action. If the baseball players are ‘slaves,’ as they sometimes like to call themselves, they’re the most happy and well paid slaves in the world, and there are lots that would like to change places with them and wear their chains.”
“Do you suppose you will get a bigger salary than you had in St. Louis?” asked his father.
“It’s almost a sure thing that I shall,” replied Joe, hopefully. “If I was worth three thousand dollars a year to the Cardinals, even before I had made good, I ought to get at least four thousand or a little more to start with on the Giants.”
“Four thousand dollars!” exclaimed Mrs. Matson, who was so used to the modest figures that prevail in a small town that the amount seemed almost a fortune.
“Not many ministers get as much as that, eh Momsey?” joked Joe.