An Empty Field of Dreams? -

By RICHARD CORLISS

It has become a rite, and wrong, of summer. For the third time in 14 years, the baseball players' union has called for a midseason strike. This one, barring a lapse into common sense between players and club owners, begins Aug. 12. It could be brief, a blip in the sport's troubled labor history. Some think it will be brutal. As historian Bill James wrote recently, "We may be nearing the end of major league baseball."

Oh, probably not. But the antagonists are, as usual, worlds apart. Players say the owners are stupid, owners say the players are greedy, and both sides are right; they make one pine for simpler days when the owners were greedy and the players were stupid. As for the fans, they feel sympathy for neither side. To them, the conflict has all the profundity of an argument between millionaires over a golf-course bet. Especially now, in the middle of one of the most exciting seasons in memory, what the fans care about is the game. At the moment, they seem to be the only ones who do.

The ostensible issues are the owners' demands to put a cap on players' pay, to impose fifty-fifty revenue sharing with the players, and to eliminate salary arbitration, which has helped jack up the average wage more than 20- fold in less than 20 years, to $1.19 million. The players, of course, want to keep things green. They'll take even more money, if the owners will be so kind or so weak.

And that is the real problem: the inability of the 28 club owners to control their desire to pay huge amounts to big stars. They just can't stop themselves from handing out millions for some fashionable slugger's services. Since much of this money comes from TV contracts, clubs in the biggest markets have an edge over teams like Pittsburgh and Milwaukee. You can't always buy a winner: Detroit, with the second highest payroll, is last in the American League East, while Montreal, with the second lowest, has the majors' best record. But a good team in a small market is likely to lose its stars to free agency. The salary cap is a compromise between the plush teams and the poor ones. That's why union representative Donald Fehr says the players are really a third party to their dispute.

The big network-TV money comes in October, when eight teams will compete in postseason play. To sign a contract in time for that windfall, both sides apparently are willing to eat a couple of weeks' worth of games in August. They want to save the play-offs -- make that the payoffs -- even if it means wrecking the season.

And what a season! On the day the strike date was announced, 12 teams were thinking pennant, in first place or fewer than three games out. That's partly because the majors expanded this year from four divisions to six, but it also means there was July joy in Cleveland and Oakland and Houston and Colorado.

Half a dozen players, from Seattle's Ken Griffey Jr. to San Francisco's Matt Williams, are on track to hit more than 50 home runs; nobody's done that since 1977. Houston's Jeff Bagwell had 104 RBIs in his first 103 games and could be the first to average one RBI a game since 1949. And in this year when pitchers are surrendering more than five runs a game, Gregg Maddux's stingy 1.69 earned-run average for Atlanta could be one of the great feats in the sport's history. Even the players, who strongly support their union, realize that there is history in the making. Says Cincinnati pitcher Jose Rijo: "I want to see guys of our generation with a chance to break records." That won't happen if the 162-game season is aborted by a strike.

Ballplayers are star performers in a $1.8 billion entertainment industry. When movie stars get $10 million to $15 million per picture, Barry Bonds' $7 million a year doesn't seem unreasonable, especially for a player who last year helped save the San Francisco franchise, which had been headed for Florida. Like movie actors, baseball players are celebrities in a cultural dream machine. They succeed because they make their audience happy. But many seem to care more about labor issues than about the fans' approval -- or the other players' success. Listen to Toronto's Paul Molitor, speaking in May to Sports Illustrated: "What are we supposed to do, forgo a strike because Junior ((Griffey))'s got 50 home runs on Sept. 1?"

Yes. Forgo a strike, because of Junior, and because of all your colleagues who are flirting with immortality. Forgo it because there's pennant fever in 12 cities, and because this summer the field of dreams seems so sweet. If you must, set a strike date for Oct. 3, the day after the regular season ends; with play-off money at stake, we'll bet it would be settled in no time. But for now, and for once, think of the sport before the business. Prove to the fans that you treasure their loyalty as much as their revenue. Do what you do so brilliantly. Shut up and play ball.