STRIKE III : Players in the New Spotlight : Fehr, MacPhail, Selig, Rona, et al: For Them, It’s Important to Talk a Good Game

By now, most people have become accustomed to sharing their breakfasts with players’ union representative Donald Fehr courtesy of “News At Sunrise” and cozying up with management negotiator Lee MacPhail on “Nightline.” You’ve noticed, for instance, that beads of sweat accumulate on Fehr’s brow during news conferences and that MacPhail’s posture is such that he appears to be trying to eat the microphones.

Yet, for all the media exposure that Fehr, MacPhail and the other cast of characters in baseball strike talks have received, they basically remain anonymous. They are perceived as merely a bunch of lawyers and high-rolling businessmen who have been given the power to decide the immediate fate of the national pastime.

Few people, for example, know that MacPhail’s father, Larry, was the man who pioneered baseball’s pension fund, one of the major issues in the strike talks. Was anyone other than trivia buffs aware that, in 1975, Fehr was one of the lawyers in the landmark Andy Messersmith free-agent case? Did anyone except Barry Rona’s close friends know that he was the lawyer for the International Ladies Garment Worker’s Union before becoming MacPhail’s chief assistant?

Does anyone care?

Fehr, for one, thinks so.

“The worst pressure I ever felt was riding the train in for work the other day,” he said. “The guy next to me kept looking at me and said, ‘I don’t know you, but I know who you are.’ And he scowls.”

Plus, without baseball games to keep fans informed and amused, they can at least keep track of the principal figures in the strike.

Suiting up for management’s team:

--MacPhail, president of the Player Relations Committee. Rated by scouts as low key but able to get things done, MacPhail helped settle the 50-day 1981 strike.

--Bud Selig, president of the Milwaukee Brewers and chairman of the committee. He’s credited for helping to bring in Peter Ueberroth as commissioner but avoids the spotlight.

--John McMullen, a high-ranking member of the executive committee known for his versatility and outspoken nature. He has been a naval architect, ship builder and part-owner of the New York Yankees with George Steinbrenner and currently is dual owner of the Houston Astros and hockey’s New Jersey Devils.

--Edward Bennett Williams, another high-ranking committee member and owner of the Baltimore Orioles. He also is the former owner of the Washington Redskins and a former treasurer of the Democratic National Party. During the 1981 strike, Williams was ring-leader of a group of “dove” owners who wanted to quickly reach a settlement,

--Peter O’Malley, the most well-known committee member in Los Angeles because he owns the Dodgers, one of baseball’s most profitable teams. Although the Dodgers annually draw the most fans, they have been hesitant to pay high salaries to players.

And, representing the players:

--Fehr, executive director of the players’ association. In only a few months, the 37-year-old lawyer has become known for his tough stands and public denouncements of the owners. He is the straw that stirs the players’ drinks, also the man responsible for further padding their wallets.

--Marvin Miller, executive director emeritus. Like an old-timer brought back for nostalgic purposes, Miller has returned to the spotlight. He also is advising Fehr and players on how not to buckle when the strike officially begins.

--Rona, general counsel for the players association. He’s very important to the cause but remains mostly behind the scenes. A real clubhouse cutup, Rona often breaks the tension of heated meetings with a few jokes.

--Mark Belanger, the only current or former player present during the talks. Known for his longevity as a shortstop for the Baltimore Orioles--good field, no hit--he may need his endurance during the negotiations.

By far the most visible of the strike characters is Fehr. Don’t be surprised if eight months from now, he is doing American Express commercials. MacPhail also is visible because of his position, but he doesn’t seem to revel in it quite as much as Fehr.

In short, it seems that the personalities of the chief negotiators are as different as their viewpoints.

Fehr, 37, has made a somewhat quick rise to his current position. But he could just as easily have been working for management in the talks. Back in 1981, he was a low-level member of the labor team and moved up in title and importance when Ken Moffet was fired as director in 1983. Even though Fehr has ties to management--he formerly worked for his father in management of a restaurant--his words and actions during the talks have clearly shown where his loyalty lies.

“If it’s shut down, it won’t be my doing,” Fehr said last week. “I have a job. If, like other industries, a strike results, I certainly will be very unhappy. But if it happens, it will be to protect the players’ rights and prevent management from turning back the clock to the pre-Messersmith days.”

Fehr was referring to the landmark 1975 free-agent case involving pitchers Messersmith and Dave McNally. Miller and Dick Moss, players association general counsel, were looking for a lawyer to handle the case and stumbled upon Fehr, who was working on cases for the steelworkers’ union. The case ended in an arbitrator’s decision outlawing baseball’s reserve clause, thus ushering in free agency.

“It was really all an accident,” Fehr recalls. “Marvin and Dick both came out of the steelworkers, so they went to our firm. Originally, someone else was supposed to handle it. But I was eventually asked to do their work.”

After the Messersmith decision, Fehr returned to his law practice. Two years later, he replaced Moss on the union council. Now, he is the “acting” head of the union. At the start of his reign, there were a few who didn’t approve of his style.

“He was too much a lawyer,” Belanger said. “A lot of us couldn’t understand him because he talked too much legalese.”

Selig said that Fehr has dropped his legalese style during negotiations. “He’s a guy you can talk to and will listen,” Selig said.

Despite his seemingly high profile, Fehr says he is uncomfortable in his media position.

“I’m not at ease in social situations where I have to make small talk,” he said. “I don’t care about the attention.”

If Fehr doesn’t seek media attention, then MacPhail can be described as a recluse. Last weekend, when the owner flatly rejected the players’ counter-proposal concerning arbitration, MacPhail somehow found a way to politely call the players’ position ridiculous.

MacPhail’s life has been called a series of challenges. The strike, without a doubt, is his biggest challenge.

“I’m not worried about the players and I’m not worried about the owners,” he said recently. “I’m worried about the game.”

Coming from MacPhail, the words seemed sincere. For nearly all his professional life, baseball’s welfare has been his main concern. MacPhail is the son of Larry MacPhail, who among other things introduced night baseball, old-timers games and air travel for teams and who developed the pension program.

“My father brought business ability to running a baseball team,” MacPhail said at the 1978 Hall of Fame induction of his father. “He was aggressive, flamboyant, garrulous, loud but also a promotional genius and a visionary.”

Perhaps if MacPhail were more like his father, there would be more colorful comments coming from the management side. But that’s not his style.

After spending 10 years as the American League president, MacPhail took the job as president of the owners’ Players Relations Committee because, he said, “I thought I might be able to promote a better feeling among owners and players.”

But two years ago, while still head of the American League, MacPhail ran headlong into a bitter controversy over the “Pine Tar” incident, in which the umpires ruled that a game-winning home run by Kansas City’s George Brett should be disallowed because the pine tar on his bat exceeded the limit. MacPhail overruled the umpires, and the final four innings of the game had to be played again.

Shortly after that incident, Ray Grebey was fired as president of the Players Relations Committee and MacPhail readily accepted the position. What he found were some deep wounds between the owners and players that have not been fully exposed again.

If MacPhail decides to give up his position after the new agreement is reached, his successor could be Rona, a 41-year-old lawyer with vast experience. Rona has served as general counsel of the management committee since 1979. Before that, he worked three years on the national labor relations board and two years on the International Ladies Garment Worker’s Union.

Like Marvin Miller and Ray Grebey before them, Fehr and MacPhail get most of the attention. But the supporting cast also is important in reaching the settlement, whenever that might occur.

Some of the bit players in this strike are well known (Miller, O’Malley, Williams), some are moderately known (Belanger, McMullen, Selig) and a few are virtual unknowns (Eugene Orza, Lauren Rich and Arthur Schack).

Miller’s importance in the development of the players’ union cannot be underestimated. Simply, Miller, 67, created the union and presided over countless free-agent disputes and salary arbitrations before finally deciding to semi-retire.

Now, Miller is a consultant, although some insinuate that he still has considerable power and treats Fehr like a puppet, pulling the strings.

“Even when I don’t go to meetings, they say that I pull the strings,” Miller said. “First of all, policy of the players association always has been made by the executive board (consisting of players), but people get fixed ideas and they repeat it and repeat it and they pay no attention to the facts. Don Fehr is his own man. Sure, I give advice.”

The roles of three of the principal owners--O’Malley, Williams and McMullen--have changed since 1981. Whereas during the 1981 strike they were considered “doves” willing to settle for less, they are now united in a hard-line stance. Selig has always been hard-line.

Schack has been the counsel for the players union after spending several years working for the United Federation of Teachers. Orza, associate general counsel for the players, joined the union in 1984 after working for the National Labor Relations Board. Rich, the assistant general counsel, also worked at the National Labor Relations Board before joining the players union this year. And Belanger, the former Oriole shortstop, is an administrative assistant.

It is likely that you will not hear about these legal wizards after the strike is eventually settled. They will most likely go about their business in relative obscurity.

Until the next strike, that is.