Tarik Skubal did nothing wrong. Also, he didn’t do anything right.
Nearing the trade deadline in 2026 the Detroit Tigers were two games out of a wild card spot and a team badly in need of retaining Skubal for any hope of making the playoffs. But Skubal follows the flow of money to LA and then defends following the money and the flow of money, at least the way the LA Dodgers do money.
And how the Dodgers have both the fattest wallet and the most determination to empty it, like emptying your wallet is somehow an innovative strategy but they do so every season and every season they’re in contention for a title. Having deep pockets is only an advantage if you’re willing to use it and the Dodgers certainly use it.
The Dodgers aren’t villains in this story and can’t be blamed for spending the way they do because that’s just the system. Which is no system. Major League Baseball is the last remnant of an old world where the financial disparity across the league is both obvious and ignored. Big markets control baseball. More to the point, small markets have very little say in the marketplace, or in titles, or in hope.
Neither Skubal or the Dodgers did anything wrong. That is, when “wrong” is defined as simply letting money control every sports decision you make, whether you’re a player or an owner.
Money talks. Money rules. Money makes the world go round. All the actors in this continuing theatre are playing their parts – as they should – and no one dares go off script.
Back in the early 2000s the Edmonton Oilers were trying to maintain a competitive team built around the resident superstar Doug Weight who was closing in on an expiring contract. The Oilers at that time were the quintessential small market team and some idealistic fools (like me) were hoping that Weight might be the one to break the trend where big talent always leaves small markets.
Maybe Doug Weight would set an example of a player willing to play for little less in a less than lucrative market.
He didn’t stay in Edmonton of course – they never do – and Weight was, of course, dealt by the Oilers while there was still some value left on his expiring contract. Thanks Doug.
It’s easy to blame the player, but unfair. They’re an easy target because most of us can relate to having a job, albeit an extremely well paid one, but few of us could imagine turning down millions of dollars in one place for the chance to make even more money in another.
The same goes for the owners. Lots of reasons to demonize them but that too is also unfair. Truth is, nobody in this continuing financial drama is a hero or a villain. They’re just doing what they do. Each zeroed in on getting exactly what works best for them.
These sports were just games when all of it began years ago. Games with low costs and tepid interest. A sideline venture for the owners and a part-time job for the athletes.
But then something happened.
These weird little invented pastimes began to create interest that turned into actual fanbases. Fanbases filled with regular people who were willing to pay good money to watch talented people throw balls or hit things.
At the center of the equation was Joe Average sports fan. He was organized sports’ best new best friend.
But it wasn’t just Joe. It was Joe Jr and Joe’s wife. All of them came to the stadium every day there was a game to be played. All paying good money to see the home team play. These were people as loyal as the day is long.
They offered him everything he could ever dream of. And he loved it. But the leagues didn’t love it. Not that it wasn’t working, just that it could work even better. There was still a lot of juice to squeeze out of this orange.
So, they offered Joe more stuff while he was there which meant the whole experience was now worth a lot more so, well, you can’t run a league for free, which meant the prices would be going up.
That meant Joe Average Fan was being asked to pay more, and then even more for all the stuff they were adding to Joe Average Fan’s sports experience even though Joe just wanted nothing more than to watch the game. Like his Dad did. But Joe Average Fan couldn’t do this anymore. He just couldn’t afford it.
He could still go to the games, just not as many. Watching his team now meant paying for a special cable package you require if you want to watch your favourite team play and you’re not able to see the game in person.
In a perfect world the owners and the players would notice Joe’s struggle, but they didn’t. Why would they? The building was still full, just with more people in suits who liked eating tiny wieners on sticks. They were the ones with the greatest seats in the building who ironically didn’t always sit in them.
As for the sporting leagues, they didn’t see these people as new fans replacing Joe. They were augmenting him – for when Joe Average couldn’t make it to the arena for whatever reason he had.
These people were the new fans with more purchasing power and fatter wallets. Almost always willing to pay for the upsell. It was the same experience Joe had, just in wider seats where they served you these fancy drinks. By a private server. It was the full VIP experience.
Whatever they offered, someone was buying it, and whenever they raised their prices, rest assured there’d be another demographic willing to step in to keep this revenue train churning. Life was good.
But here’s the problem. What happens when all the marketing opportunities have been exhausted? When there’s no more room left on the jersey for another logo and no real estate anywhere to be found for the next billboard. What happens when that demographic and even the corporate one can’t afford to pay the fee anymore?
One day that train will stop running because every drop in that orange has been squeezed out. There’s simply no more juice to extract and no more wallet to tap.
Costs can’t continue to climb indefinitely, whether it’s escalating salaries or the cost of box seats. That means revenue also has its limit and, despite what the current revenue projections might say, there is a summit on this mountain. Eventually you run out of wells to tap. This isn’t speculation, it’s math.
And what happens when you reach that summit? You’re forced to restructure your new reality. The one where not as many buyers can pay for what you’re offering.
That means you either go bankrupt on principal, or you return to something close to the original business model where you made the game as accessible as possible to as many people as possible. Where profit was based on volume. It was working before this limitless revenue fever hit you and it can work again.
That means asking Joe Average Fan if he would like back in the game. He’s loyal and comes with friends. You had a thing with him once so why not again?
You will have to be a little different this time though. You’ve seen the iceberg and you know the dangers of operating without a plan. If you don’t keep things reasonable for your buyers – all of them – something unreasonable, and unpleasant, will most certainly happen to you soon after.
So cut him a deal. Be willing to accept a little less profit. See the value in the value you’re offering and who you’re offering it to.
Reunite Joe Average Fan with his game experience at a price you both can handle.
It worked before. It can work again.
Tarik Skubal did nothing wrong. Also, he didn’t do anything right.
Nearing the trade deadline in 2026 the Detroit Tigers were two games out of a wild card spot and a team badly in need of retaining Skubal for any hope of making the playoffs. But Skubal follows the flow of money to LA and then defends following the money and the flow of money, at least the way the LA Dodgers do money.
And how the Dodgers have both the fattest wallet and the most determination to empty it, like emptying your wallet is somehow an innovative strategy but they do so every season and every season they’re in contention for a title. Having deep pockets is only an advantage if you’re willing to use it and the Dodgers certainly use it.
The Dodgers aren’t villains in this story and can’t be blamed for spending the way they do because that’s just the system. Which is no system. Major League Baseball is the last remnant of an old world where the financial disparity across the league is both obvious and ignored. Big markets control baseball. More to the point, small markets have very little say in the marketplace, or in titles, or in hope.
Neither Skubal nor the Dodgers did anything wrong. That is, when “wrong” is defined as simply letting money control every sports decision you make, whether you’re a player or an owner.
Money talks. Money rules. Money makes the world go round. All the actors in this continuing theatre are playing their parts – as they should – and no one dares go off script.
Back in the early 2000s the Edmonton Oilers were trying to maintain a competitive team built around the resident superstar Doug Weight who was closing in on an expiring contract. The Oilers at that time were the quintessential small market team and some idealistic fools (like me) were hoping that Weight might be the one to break the trend where big talent always leaves small markets.
Maybe Doug Weight would set an example of a player willing to play for little less in a less than lucrative market.
He didn’t stay in Edmonton of course – they never do – and Weight was, of course, dealt by the Oilers while there was still some value left on his expiring contract. Thanks Doug.
It’s easy to blame the player, but unfair. They’re an easy target because most of us can relate to having a job, albeit an extremely well paid one, and few of us could imagine turning down millions of dollars in one place for the chance to make even more money in another.
Same goes for the owners. Tons of reasons to demonize them but that too is also unfair. Truth is, nobody in this continuing financial drama is a hero or a villain. They’re just doing what they do. Each zeroed in on getting exactly what works best for them.
The sports were just games when all of it began years ago. Games with low costs and tepid interest. A sideline venture for the owners and a part-time job for the athletes.
But then something happened.
These weird little invented pastimes began to create interest that turned into actual fanbases. Fanbases filled with regular people who were willing to pay good money to watch talented people throw balls or hit things.
At the center of the equation was Joe Average sports fan and he was organized sports’ best new best friend.
But it wasn’t just Joe. It was Joe Jr. and Joe’s wife. All of them came to the stadium every day there was a game to be played. All paying good money to see the home team play. Loyal as the day is long.
And for a while they offered him everything he could ever dream of. And he loved it. But the leagues didn’t love it. They could love it a lot more if they had a lot more profit.
So, they offered Joe more stuff, which meant the whole experience was now worth more so, well, you can’t run a league for free.
So, then Joe Average Fan was asked to pay more, and then pay even more, when all Joe Average Fan wanted was to watch a good old ball game. Like Dad did. But Joe Average Fan couldn’t do that anymore. He couldn’t afford it.
He could still go to the games, just not as many. He could watch from home because he now has that cable package you need to have if you want to watch your favourite team play.
In a perfect world the owners and the players would notice but they didn’t. The building was still full. Just with more people in suits. And more people ordering tiny wieners on sticks. The ones with the greatest seats that didn’t always sit in them.
They would replace whatever Joe Average Fan couldn’t cover. We don’t have new fans; we have more fans. More purchasing power with more wallets. Especially the fat ones. Whatever we offer, someone will buy it, and whenever prices rise, another demographic will appear to keep the revenue train moving as it always has.
But here’s the problem. What happens when all the marketing has been exhausted? When there’s no more room left on the jersey for another logo and no real estate anywhere to be found for the next billboard. One day that train will stop running.
Every drop has been squeezed out of that orange.
That means you either go bankrupt on principal, or you do the unthinkable as ask Joe Average Fan if he’d like to be back in the game. He’s loyal. You had a thing with him once.
You’re going to have to be a little different this time though. You’ve seen the iceberg. You know if you don’t keep things reasonable something unreasonable, and unpleasant, will most certainly happen to you soon after.
Cut him a deal. All of you could afford to make a little less and feel a little more about what you’d be doing. Reuniting Joe Average Fan with his game at a price that can work for all of you. Because without him, without them, there’s no you
We know that now.