Happy Saturday.

Will the owners finally win one?

A salary cap.

For decades, the answer has been simple:

No.

Owners pushed.

Threatened.

Locked out players.

Even lost a World Series over it.

Each time, the players held the line.

The salary cap became baseball’s forbidden word.

Untouchable.

Impossible.

But something has shifted.

Owners aren’t pretending this system works anymore.

They’ve watched the Dodgers build a financial superpower in plain sight. Deferred money. Endless flexibility. A roster most teams can’t realistically assemble.

The Dodgers aren’t cheating.

They’re exploiting the rules exactly as written.

Which is the real problem.

The current CBA expires after the 2026 season.

When it does, owners face a choice:

Accept a future where a handful of teams control the leverage.

Or shut the game down.

In the past, they talked tough — and blinked.

This time feels different.

New union leadership.

An opening for owners?

Growing frustration in smaller markets.

Ownership groups that may finally be willing to burn a season to change the system.

Make no mistake — the MLBPA remains the most powerful union in American sports.

They don’t lose economic wars.

But owners are preparing for one.

Clubs have reportedly built a $2 billion war chest — about $75 million per team — in anticipation of a labor fight.

That’s not posturing.

That’s preparation.

For the first time in decades…

Ownership might be willing to risk everything.

One of the most anticipated rule tweaks this season? ABS — Automated Ball-Strike.

Hitters, pitchers, and catchers can now challenge ball and strike calls.

How’s that working for ya, blue?

Through the first stretch of Spring Training, teams have used ABS 450+ times, averaging about 4–5 challenges per game.

And roughly 53% of those challenges have been overturned.

That’s not nothing.

Yes, it’s a small sample size. Pitchers are still building up. Hitters are still guessing. Everyone’s experimenting.

But if that number holds anywhere close?

We’re about to watch umpires get fact-checked in real time all summer — and into October, when the stakes are massive.

And that’s the point.

Not embarrassment.

Accuracy.

Because when a World Series game turns on a borderline 3-2 pitch…

That’s when this system earns its keep.

With Opening Day a month away, half the league is scrambling.

Regional Sports Networks have collapsed. MLB is now producing broadcasts for 14 teams.

But the Braves?

They zigged.

Instead of handing production to the league…

Atlanta launched BravesVision.

They’ll control:

Production.
Sales.
Marketing.
Distribution.

More than 140 games.

That’s not a tweak.

That’s vertical integration.

President Derek Schiller invoked the old TBS days — when Atlanta essentially owned its megaphone.

But this isn’t nostalgia.

It’s leverage.

If BravesVision works, Atlanta controls its revenue.
Its ads.
Its storytelling.

If it fails?

They’re back under MLB’s umbrella.

Here’s the tension:

MLB wants centralized broadcast control.
Commissioner Rob Manfred has pushed for a unified streaming future.

The Braves carved out their own lane.

If it works, others will follow.

And MLB’s consolidation plan gets complicated.

The RSN collapse was supposed to weaken clubs.

Atlanta turned it into an opportunity.

The bigger question:

Are we watching the next power shift in baseball?

Owners say the system is broken.
They say they can’t compete with the Dodgers.
They say they need drastic changes to the sport.

And then this week, Angels owner Arte Moreno said:

“The number one thing fans want is affordability… safety… a good experience. Believe it or not, winning is not in their top five.”

Winning isn’t in the top five.

That’s one way to address competitive imbalance.

Stop competing.

The Angels haven’t made the postseason since 2014.

Fans do want affordability.
They want safety.
They want a good experience.

But mostly?

They want hope.

And hope usually starts with trying to win.

Arte Moreno bought the Angels for $180 million.
They’re now worth roughly $2.75 billion.

The investment worked.

The baseball?

Not so much.

An organization that has enriched its owner…
has struggled to enrich its fans

March 5, 1991.

Back fields in Florida. No packed stadium. No national TV.

Spring training. Spikes in the dirt. And tension.

Barry Bonds was already a superstar talent. MVP. Swagger to match.

But talent doesn’t always outrun accountability.

That morning, Bonds wasn’t hustling the way Jim Leyland expected. Effort. Attitude. It didn’t matter. Leyland had seen enough.

He didn’t pull him aside quietly.

He lit him up.

In language that would peel paint off the clubhouse walls.

In front of everyone.

The kind of dressing-down that makes a dugout go quiet.

Leyland’s message was simple:

You are not bigger than this team.

It mattered.

The ’91 Pirates won 98 games. Tough. Unified. Serious.

In March, their manager made it clear — even the best player answered to the room.

Spring Training isn’t always about swing mechanics or pitch counts.

Sometimes it’s about establishing order.

And on that day in 1991, the manager won.

See for yourself.

Baseball can be quite the journey.

Box scores. Contracts. Batting averages. Spin rates.

And then life shows up.

This week, Dodgers reliever Alex Vesia walked back onto a mound for the first time since October — since he and his wife lost their infant daughter, Sterling.

There was no dramatic entrance. No spotlight.

Just a man, a baseball, and a crowd that understood.

They stood.
They applauded.

Not for the pitcher.

For the father.

Vesia threw a scoreless inning.

But that wasn’t the point.

Sometimes the bravest thing a person can do
is simply come back.

Baseball returned that day.

And so did he.

While baseball debates billions…

Most families are dealing with grocery bills that feel heavier every month.

I explore that side of money in The Real Cost each Wednesday.

This week: Why grocery prices still feel high — even when inflation slows.

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