Chapter 11
A Rock and a Hard Place
Billy Beane is a man of many hats. By day, he's Oakland's general manager. By night, he serves on the board of directors of two companies: the Bay Area software firm NetSuites, and the football helmet manufacturer Riddell. He commands a $40,000 fee for various speaking engagements. He's also a consultant for the English soccer club Tottenham and the San Jose Earthquakes of Major League Soccer.
He's also just been bumped up to an 8% minority stake in the Oakland Athletics.
"Lots of coffee," Billy answers, when asked how he balances all of his obligations.
One of the perks of being the most coveted executive in professional sports is commanding absurdly high fees for his services. A's owner Lew Wolff periodically deals with Billy's dalliances with other teams by rewarding his general manager with a small stake in the ballclub.
"The theory is that I'm more emotionally invested in the team if I'm financially invested in the team," Billy says as he shuffles through paperwork in his latest project.
The project, Billy sighs, is the A's ongoing effort to construct a new stadium. The team has been tirelessly working to relocate to nearby San Jose, though the San Francisco Giants have been swatting the move like a Dikembe Mutombo blocked shot. Major League Baseball has been dragging its feet, supposedly forming a blue ribbon panel to examine the impact of a move. It's a stall tactic.
"Our hands are pretty much tied," Billy concedes. "We're at the mercy of Bud Selig and the league. Unless they do something, we're stuck between a rock and a hard place."
The rock, in this case, is Oakland. The hard place is the Coliseum. The lease is up at the Coliseum, and the Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum Commission has the A's over a barrel. Without a place to play, the Commission has been trying to hard ball the A's into an unfavorable deal, which would cut even more out of the team's already slim profit margin.
Not surprisingly, this has turned out to be a headache for Billy. The Yankees privately tried to get an interview with him about taking over for Brian Cashman as their general manager, and Billy seriously considered it when Hank Steinbrenner offered him an executive role to head up the team's flagship network, YES.
No, though, was the answer when Wolff stepped in and doubled Billy's ownership stake in the A's. 8% of a team that could be valued at half a billion dollars in San Jose is worth more to Billy than a front office job with the Pinstripers. Billy's always been a "roll of the dice" kind of guy, and this is no exception.
Still, is the Coliseum conundrum worth the risk?
"I think I've figured out a way around that," Billy says with a smile.
The savvy general manager-consultant-minority owner-board member has formed a hair-brained idea that could buy the A's a little more time in Oakland. But to pull it off, his owner is going to have to call in a big favor from an old friend.
Lew Wolff enters the room. The 70-something A's is a dead ringer for Ernest Borgnine, though Wolff shares little of the charisma and jovialness of the late actor. Lew made his fortune as a real estate developer, and you don't make loads of money in this business by being a nice guy.
"So, you're really going to make me do this, huh?" the owner asks his general manager with a grimace.
"It's the only way, Lew," Billy shrugs. "What have we got to lose?"
Wolff makes the call. On the other line is his fraternity brother from Pi Lambda Phi at the University of Wisconsin: Bud Selig.
If there's any honor among frat brothers, it has not yet been shown from Bud. The Commissioner has done little to nothing in helping the A's relocate to San Jose. A simple compensation package or "Deal With It" to the Giants would likely get the A's into the South Bay by 2017. But Bud has done something that has helped neither the A's or the Giants: nothing at all.
"Bud," Lew tells his former college classmate, "this could really help out my ballclub, and it's what's best for Major League Baseball. And that's really what matters most. It's a smart business decision."
The plan is remarkably simple, yet complex. Threaten the Commission by breaking off talks and forcing the Giants to share their current stadium, AT&T Park, with the A's. The Commission would no longer have all of the leverage, and the Giants would get a taste of just how real this stadium issue is becoming.
It works.
"Buddy, you won't regret this," Lew says as he hurries off the phone. "Let's do lunch the next time I'm in Milwaukee."
Bud Selig has just agreed to inform the Giants that the A's will be moving across the Bay to share AT&T Park. Ironically, the Giants have no recourse because of the antitrust exemption. MLB has the final say over franchise movement, so the very power that has kept the A's out of San Jose could now put them in San Francisco.
Of course, this is all about getting Oakland back to the bargaining table to work out a short-term lease at the Coliseum. Right?
"Sure," Billy says with a mischievous smile.