It’s been a while since I put on my sports columnist hat, but with the sudden resignation of Washington Nationals manager Jim Riggleman it seems like an appropriate time to revisit something I used to do every week.
When the news first broke, I thought someone had made a huge reporting mistake. After all, the Nationals had just won their game to continue an almost unfathomable hot streak. Everything about this team was a constant stream of positivity.
But there it was, an incredulous tweet from WJLA’s Britt McHenry responding to something sent out by someone I assume is some kind of Nats blogger: “What?! RT @washingnats: I just learned that Jim Riggleman has resigned as manager of the #Nats.”
McHenry’s “What?!” was how most people reacted in the following hours as Riggleman’s resignation was confirmed. Why would a guy leading one of the hottest teams in baseball right now, one who had garnered so much respect not just with this team but earlier in his career, walk away so suddenly?
It came down to his contract. Riggleman was in the last year of a deal he signed in 2009, but the team held an option to extend him for next year. He was frustrated they had not given him an extension, which he probably deserved, nor had they seriously held talks with him about his future.
Nationals General Manager Mike Rizzo says Riggleman gave him an ultimatum less than an hour before Thursday’s game, saying he wanted a new deal or he was walking. The game ended, and Riggleman walked.
At first, I was totally on Riggleman’s side. I liked him, and who doesn’t enjoy a good “take this job and shove it” or “get two beers and jump” story?
As I thought about it more today though, the fact that he was under contract bothers me. When you sign on the dotted line, whether you’re a professional athlete, coach, or managing a Denny’s, that’s a commitment. The stuff above the signature lays out what each party will do and for how long. If you don’t like the terms, don’t put your pen to the page.
The Washington Post quoted Riggleman talking about his contract: “I made it very clear that I didn’t like [it], but you know I can’t say no to it,” Riggleman said, recounting his conversations with team management when he signed the contract. “So there I am, and two years later, I’m realizing, ‘You know what? I was right. That’s not a good way to do business.’”
Again, if you don’t like it don’t sign. We see this a lot of times before the NFL season with players holding out for a new deal. A star receiver has a career year and decides his old contract is no longer worthy of his abilities. He feels it’s OK to refuse to honor that contract and demand the team pay him more money.
This always reminds me of a scene in the iconic Adam Sandler version of “Mr. Deeds.” Deeds, played by Sandler, talks to the quarterback of the Jets, who is following the exact script above. Deeds’s (paraphrased) response? “If you had a terrible year could the team just demand you take a pay cut?” Of course not. They can fire you, but the contract probably says they have to pay you some kind of buyout.
A few years ago I was working as a news producer in Florida on a one-year contract. Part way through the year, my boss brought me an offer for an extension. It was for a little over three years and included a raise, but I didn’t sign it.
Among other things, I knew at that point I didn’t want to stick around in that city for that length of time. Sure, there wouldn’t have been huge legal consequences if I signed the extension and bolted after two years. But it wasn’t a contract I liked, so I didn’t sign it.
What I wanted was a one-year extension, but the station decided that wasn’t an option for them. So, instead of throwing a fit and storming out the door, I worked through the end of my deal and we parted on great terms.
Things don’t have to get crazy.
