(4 of 4)
In the knobby, swampy world that roils below the level of such Olympian meditations, Giamatti is going to face some real problems, and pretty soon. For one thing, two arbitrators have now ruled that the club owners -- Bart's bosses -- conspired to restrict the movement of players who had become free agents after the 1985 and 1986 seasons. In lay terms, eligible players were allowed to offer their services to the highest bidder, except that few bids were forthcoming save from the clubs for which they were already playing. These judgments could figure explosively when the contract between the clubs and the Major League Players Association expires after the 1989 season. Also up for grabs next year are potentially troublesome extensions or renewals of network-television contracts. It is easy to dream up a nightmare for the spring of 1990: no games are being broadcast nationwide, but that hardly matters, since all the players are on strike.
Giamatti's role in this unfolding, inevitable crisis will be under the closest imaginable scrutiny. Some mutters from the Players Association have already accused Bart of being the owners' apologist. Giamatti is in no mood to criticize the people who hired him. "I've gotten to know all the owners, and I think they are a remarkable set of human beings." He also resists charges of partisanship: "I'm not anti-players, anti-umpires, anti-anybody." He elaborates: "My responsibility will be to serve, as best I can, the totality of the institution."
He will be worth watching in the year ahead, as he attempts to protect his vision of a green, Edenic pageant against the clamoring demands of diverse actors, producers, stagehands and unruly spectators. Even those who are indifferent to sports may have a greater stake in Giamatti's struggle than they realize. The central question hinges on whether collective celebrations should reflect or ennoble their societies. Reflection, these days, means augmented, intensified doses of behavior already lamentably available on the streets: rudeness, insensitivity, the steady thrum of flash-point violence. Bart thinks he has an older, better idea: orderly, considerate crowds in clean, pleasant surroundings, absorbed in a leisurely spectacle performed by happy, fulfilled heroes. How could people exposed to such idyllic wonders fail to carry some of their experiences out into the streets and their own homes? "I am an idealist, a Neoplatonist, I suppose," says Giamatti. "I grew up believing in values, and also believing we'll often fall short of realizing them. That training probably led me to baseball. The best hitters fail about 70% of the time. But that's no reason for them, or for any of us, to give up."