‘I Am Lucky to Be a Ballplayer’

The following article was published by Liberty magazine on June 18, 1938.

I would like to talk about ballplayers’ salaries.

First, let me get very personal about a player by the name of Joe DiMaggio. I have signed my contract, and I can tell you there wasn’t a happier man in the U.S.A. the day I went back to work. I count myself a very lucky man to be with a great club like the Yankees, working for an owner like Colonel Jacob Ruppert.

What I say about the Colonel is not a lot of soft soap. He offered me $25,000. I believed I was worth as much as $40,000. At no time was there anything personal in our disagreement. If you offer $8,000 for a house and the seller insists it is worth $10,000, does that mean you are deadly enemies?

I kept holding out because I thought I was right. But as the season approached, I began to weaken. Not because I had changed my mind about what I was entitled to, but because the game gets into your blood.

When the Yankees dropped two out of three in Boston, I decided that my place was with the club and that money no longer was the first consideration. So I called up the Colonel, and in five minutes everything was straightened out.

I accepted the contract for $25,000, but did so without giving up my idea that from the books--not only the American League records but the attendance figures of the New York club--I was worth $40,000 to the Yankees.

While still holding to this thought, I assure you it has nothing whatever to do with my daily job. I work as hard and as earnestly as if Ruppert had signed me for $100,000. That’s one of the funny things about baseball and baseball players. If you are selling gas pipe and your employer fights you on salary, you may have some sort of grudge in your mind, and it possibly will affect your work.

But in baseball, the man who carries a salary grievance into the field with him is as rare as an Italian who isn’t nuts about his spaghetti and vino.

Now, then, how much money should a big league club pay an outstanding player? That question is about as easy to answer as it is to settle the argument about blondes and brunettes.

There are 16 clubs in the two big leagues. They are located in cities with different populations, different enthusiasms about baseball and, above all, different results in competition. Generally speaking, the financial success of a team depends on where it is located in the standings.

It is not possible to draw up a uniform scale of salaries. If there were such a scale, it would not be fair to the best players. They would be held down by the average performers.

Many years ago, the National League tried out a salary system whereby no man could be paid more than $2,500 a season. Yes, believe it or not, they used to pay that kind of dough in baseball. The scheme not only collapsed but brought on a big strike, which resulted in the organization of the Players’ League.

I can’t see why baseball should be different from the movies or selling locomotives or acting on the stage. Suppose Hollywood gets a great attraction? He signs for $500 a week, makes one picture, turns out a sensation and immediately expects more dough.

The studio doesn’t say, “Look here, Jones, you haven’t been with us very long. We will give you $600 a week next year and $700 a week the third year.” No, it tears up his old contract and pays him what the box office says he is worth.

Now don’t get the idea that this piece has been a squawk. I want to say again, in all sincerity, that I am happy to be playing with the Yankees, happy to be getting the salary I am getting. I have managed to do pretty well for myself, and the saints be praised, I got $350 a month with San Francisco. I jumped to $8,500 with the Yankees in 1936, $15,000 in 1937, $25,000 in 1938.

I am lucky to be a ballplayer. What would I be doing if I hadn’t gone into the game? Fishing for a living, like my dad did for so many years? Driving a truck, working for a fruit company in San Francisco? What--compared with the opportunities I have with the Yankees in the greatest city in the world, with the champion ballclub?

I call myself lucky when I go to bed. I call myself lucky when I get up in the morning and face a day doing the thing I like to do best in the world.

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