Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Play me and trade me

As this week’s baseball trading deadline passed with all the subtlety of a hammer pounding a nail, it quite fascinating to think of the notion of the trade. Actually, it’s quite baffling to think of it. No, not the trade that sent the Phillies best hitter and hottest pitcher to the New York Yankees for four minor leaguers with very limited potential. That’s a different story that will be discussed for years. For this it’s the actual concept of the trade that’s weird.

Think of it – an employee for a company is just shipped off without warning to another totally different company. Sure, they’re in the same business, but it doesn’t really seem fair.

Does it?

For instance, I doubt that there is any chance that someone in your company’s accounting department is going to come into the office tomorrow morning with a yellow post-it stuck to the computer with the message, “Come see me” from the boss scrawled on it. And it’s doubtful that the scene that happens quite often in pro sports will be played out when the Accounting guy shows up at the door of the boss’s office.

“You wanted to see me, boss?”

“Yeah, Bob, come on in and sit down. Close the door behind you, too, please.”

“Sure thing… what is it, boss?”

“Well, this isn’t going to be easy because, as you know, we really like your work around here, and your jokes were knocking everyone out at the company’s summer luau last month. We just really like having you around, and that’s not because you are having a great season with the company softball team, either. It’s more than that… ”

“So what is it, boss?”

“Well, as you know we’re a little short staffed in the marketing department. We just really need some extra help down there with all the vacations coming up and the fiscal year ending. Anyway, I don’t want to drag this out so I have to put it straight – we’ve traded you to a medical supply company in Duluth. Now I know what you’re thinking and I want you to know that we didn’t want to do this. But they really needed a top-notch accountant and they’re a really good company. I think you’ll fit in well there and really help them out.”

Yes, people in certain industries get transferred from place to place all the time. It’s also more than common for military professionals to bounce around the globe from base to base, packing and re-packing the family for the next home, school so they can make a new set of friends only to re-start the process all over again in a few years.

Actually, I have a close friend who requested his “trade” within his company. He did it not once, but several times, going from Boston to Washington, D.C., to Toronto and then back to Boston where he eventually left as a free agent to go to another firm. During all of this my friend said the most important thing he learned was to make sure he emptied the trash can before the movers came to pack everything up and ship it to another city.

“If you have trash in Boston, it’s going to show up in the same trash can in Washington,” he said.

The funniest thing about trades in pro sports is how non-chalant the athletes are about being told they were being sent somewhere else to work. Oh sure, they act surprised and talk about the friends they made and the good times with their former employer, but there is always one phrase every pro jock uses when discussing their trade to a new team. In fact, every former Phillie used it on the way out the door this past week:

“It’s part of the game. It’s part of the business… ” said David Bell on his way to Milwaukee last Friday.

“It’s part of the business… ” said Bobby Abreu as he headed to New York to join the Yankees.

“I wanted to stay here but it’s part of the business…” added Cory Lidle as he joined Abreu on the way to the Bronx.

“I enjoyed my time here. I wish it could've included a playoff run, but it’s part of the business… ” added Rheal Cormier as he left Philadelphia for Cincinnati.

Where’s Crash Davis when you need him? And there’s one aspect of the sporting life that most people are glad hasn’t gone mainstream.

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