Chapter 89

Julie was going over her budget again when her phone rang. She answered it and was surprised to hear Ed Shapiro, Matt Driesbach's agent, on the line.

"My client has decided to accept your qualifying offer," the agent said without preamble.

"He what?" Julie exploded. She had offered Driesbach a qualifying offer in a purely procedural move. The amount was the average of the top 125 salaries from the previous year which had come out to $12.4 million per season. The offer meant the Dodgers would get a compensatory draft pick after the first round of next year's draft and the team that signed him would lose a pick in the first or second round. She had never expected him to accept. No one ever accepted.

"He's elected to go to accept your offer," the agent replied with disgust. Driesbach's decision had led to a screaming match between the two men. Shapiro was certain his client would get $16 million a season. In fact, he had informal discussions with the Yankees for a number that was pretty close to that amount, on average, for five years. He figured the Orioles, who had lost their shortstop at the end of the season to a torn elbow ligament, would make an offer. Instead, Matt held off filing for free agency.

"Christ," Julie muttered. "Look, Ed, I'm going to have to call you back once I see the paperwork you file with the league office. But just for giggles, what are you looking for on the open market?"

"We're going to ask for something in the $18 million range," the agent replied.

"He's going to be a backup infielder here," Julie said. "If that's what you're looking for, I'll have to look to deal him even I can't get much in return. If he wants to stay here it is going to have to be for less money than the qualifying offer."

The agent gritted his teeth. Driesbach said that money was no longer going to be a factor in where he played – and neither was a starting slot. He was willing to take less money to stay in Los Angeles, even if it meant playing every fourth or fifth day.

"I'll talk to Matt and get back you once we file the paperwork," Shapiro said. "But he wants to be with the Dodgers."

Julie hung up the phone and then hung her head. Any hope she had of keeping the payroll under $130 million was out the window – and so, she suspected, was her job.

Before Julie left to go home, she had called Fred Hartman's agent again. She increased her offer to $1.1 million a year for two years. The agent turned her down flat.

"I've got an offer from the Giants on the table," the agent informed her. "They're willing to go $5 million for three years with a player option for a fourth year. Once I have the particulars, I'll call you back. Fred wants me to give you the option to match. I don't think the Giants will be the low bidders though."

"Call me back when you know," Julie said. "But let him know if he wants to stay in Los Angeles, he'll have to be willing to work with me. If he wants to take the money and run, I can't stop him. But I don't think I'll be able to give that much to him. I'll know more this evening but let him know it's not that I don't want him here. We all do. He was a huge part of what we just did. But he's 31 years old and he's had one good season. He has to be realistic."

"The market for him will set itself," the agent said. "You know that. And realism goes both ways. You have to accept that the reason he's had only one good year is because he's only had the chance to prove himself once."

"And who gave him that chance?" Julie shot back. "It sure as hell wasn't he Giants or the Rockies. They could have given them a look last year or the year before or whenever. We gave him the opportunity that you're basing his worth upon."

She shook her head quickly to quell her anger, still holding the phone.

"I'm meeting with ownership tomorrow morning to see where we are," she said. "I'll get back to you after I talk to them but I will tell you this. Getting Fred back is a priority for the team but not for the money you're looking for."

Now, 10 hours later, Julie was dreading heading into Millicent Swanson's office. The payroll was already tipping $110 million without arbitration cases or free agents to consider. The arbitration cases would add another $10 million to it easily and re-signing a couple of critical pieces would probably cost another $10 million.

With a sigh, she pushed through the doors and was ushered into a conference room. Victor Turturro sat on one side and the managing partner of the ownership group, Millicent Swanson, sat at the head of the table. Both smiled at their young GM when she entered.

"You've done a marvelous job," Victor said. Julie sighed again. She figured this was the opening salvo of his speech to let her know he had hired some 60-year-old man to be the new general manager.

"Thank you," Julie replied. "Steve left me a lot to work with."

"We're interested in hearing your plans for sustaining our success," Millicent said. "But first, where are you on getting Brock Miller signed?"

"Done," Julie replied. "I've got a deal in place with his agent to buy out his arbitration years and the two years after."

"How much did that cost?" Victor wondered. He expected the negotiations to take a while. They always had in the past. "When I told you it was our top priority, I didn't mean for you to give him whatever he wanted."

"I didn't," Julie replied. "The numbers he came to us with were workable from the start. He knows that although we're not hurting financially, we do have limits. The first three years are extremely reasonable – given what he could have made in arbitration."

"What's the total?" Victor asked.

"Six years, $55 million," Julie replied. "The big numbers don't hit until after his full no-trade ends. The first three years are well below market – I would guess $15 million or so. Next year is $3.8 million. I expect he would have gotten at least $5 million when we sat down. He goes to $4.2 the year after and $5 the following year. We get an option for a seventh year. If we pick it up, he gets an option for an eighth."

"So he gave us a sweetheart deal?" Victor inquired.

"Not really," Julie said. "The overall value is in line with what he brings."

"How much is the signing bonus?" Victor asked. He was the designated "bad cop" because Millicent Swanson probably would have mortgaged her Holmby Hills mansion for Brock Miller.

"None," Julie answered with a shrug. "He said the no-trade was more important to him than money upfront. The back-end of the deal is a little heavy right now but in six years, it probably won't be. The last two seasons are $14 million and $18 million. We should be in good shape. We'll have some heavy contracts off the books by then. The last of the dead money should be gone by next year."

"Who do we owe still?" Millicent asked bitterly. The previous owners had given some long-term contracts that were heavily back-loaded. She was paying off guys who hadn't worn a Dodgers uniform since 2005.

"Crittendon and Ramirez," Julie said, glancing at her notes. "We're still in the hole to them about $17 million over the next two years."

Millicent frowned and shook her head. Julie decided it was time to bite the bullet.

"We have some decisions to make today," she informed them. "First, are we willing to pay what it takes to keep this going? Do we have the means to bring back the guys we want here?"

"Of course we want to keep going from where we are!" Millicent declared. "Why is that even a question?"

Victor cut in before Julie could answer.

"It's a question because of how much money it will cost us," he said. "We just signed Miller for $55 million over six years. That's probably $20 million more than it would have cost us if we were in the same situation two years ago. Julie, do you agree?"

Julie nodded. There had been some ridiculous contracts handed out in the past two years – by the Yankees, Red Sox and Cubs, mostly. The salaries had risen dramatically for young players.

"Pish," Millicent said. "Victor, think about how much money he has brought in to this franchise. In the last year, have you gone anywhere outside of Beverly Hills and not seen a dozen people wearing Dodgers merchandise?"

"Well, no," Victor admitted. "But we always did well on apparel."

"We did well," Millicent said. "Now we're second only to the Yankees. Answer me this: How many of those people were wearing his number on their backs?"

Victor admitted that he'd seen a lot of Brock Miller replica jerseys, not only at the stadium but around the city.

"And those T-shirts," Millicent added. "Those sell for $20. The team gets $6 from them. They are on their third printing already. Accounting tells me our merchandise revenue was up 30 percent before we won the World Series. Those figures will pay for Brock Miller to wear our uniform. Don't you worry about that."

It was easy to forget that Millicent Swanson earned every penny she ever owned. She hadn't inherited her wealth; she hadn't married a rich man. She had started her own boutique 40 years earlier and watched it blossom into almost a thousand stores nationwide and her own clothing line.

"There are others who will expect significant raises besides Brock," Julie cut in.

"What are we talking, bottom line?" Victor asked.

"That's a hard number to state with any finality," Julie hedged, "particularly at this point in the offseason. Without signing another single person, we're looking at $115 million. That's without arbitration or free agents. After we get through arbitration, we're looking at $125 easily – or $138 when we factor in dead contracts."

"Impossible," Victor declared.

"Then there are the free agents that we've targeted," Julie continued, ignoring the club president. "Fred Hartman made $445,000 last season. He's got an offer from the Giants for $5 million over three years. We'll have to come close if we want him here next season. I got Jeffcoat signed for next year but Trujillo filed. He's going to expect a hefty raise from the $500,000 we paid last season. Then we get to our biggest budget buster: Driesbach."

"I thought we decided to let him go," Millicent said. She had hoped to keep the team intact for the following season and had been reluctant to allow anyone to leave.

"He's decided he doesn't want to go," Julie told them.

"So what?" Victor asked. "It's not like he can force us to keep him."

"Yes he can," Julie informed the duo. "In order to get a draft pick from losing him, we had to offer him a qualifying offer. I have never heard of anyone actually accepting the offer – until yesterday when his agent informed me that Driesbach would. Now we're going to be on the hook for at least what he made last year – $12 million – or I can trade him for practically nothing. I have encouraged his agent to refuse the offer and let us negotiate with him but it would stupid for him to sacrifice $10 million."

"He doesn't want to leave?" Millicent inquired, pleased that people wanted to come to Los Angeles. Before she spearheaded the group to purchase the Dodgers three years earlier, few free agents gave them a look unless they paid far above market value.

"None of them want to leave," Julie insisted. "Bergstrom doesn't fit into our plans with Betancourt and Teeter coming back. Yet his agent calls me every day. Jimenez still hasn't filed for free agency, hoping we'll come forward with an offer. The only player we lost who has said he'll never play here again is Eddie Cruz. He's still smarting from being left off the playoff roster but he'll change his mind when he gets his ring and his World Series share. His agent even thinks so. He called to let me know that it was his client's emotions talking and asking that I keep that in mind if we find we want Cruz back again."

"So that's what I'm saying," Julie continued, putting her palms flat on the table. "The only way we're going to be able to keep payroll at the level we were at last season is to move some contracts – and I'm talking about Perez- and Betancourt-sized contracts. I'm not talking about non-tendering Tony DeLeon or Danys Sanchez. I'm talking about the possibility of seeing our payroll increase by $25 million or more – and that's to keep the players we have.

"You have to keep in mind, the big contracts already on our books get bigger as time goes past. Al Perez made $21 million last year. He gets $23 this year. Josh Hart made $12 million. That goes up to $13 this year. Wade Watson gets a raise of $1.5 million. Cesar Davis gets a $3 million bump. Every single player on our roster is going to make more money than he did last season. If you want to keep the payroll at $115 million, I'll have to jettison Betancourt, Perez and probably Teeter."

"No!" Millicent said firmly. "Al is not going anywhere."

"We couldn't move him if we wanted to," Julie told her. "He's got veterans rights. He can block any trade and he would."

"So leaves moving Betancourt and Teeter," Victor said.

"No it doesn't," Julie answered. "Both missed all of last year. We wouldn't get anything in return. We would essentially look like the Pirates by jettisoning their contracts for nothing. How do you think our fans will react to that?"

"What do you propose?" Victor asked with a scowl.

Julie shrugged.

"I propose that you two accept that the cost of winning is more than $115 million a year," she said plainly. "I propose that you accept that a World Series trophy will bring in more money than the increases I'm asking you to accept. Outside of that, I have no proposal."

"And if we win again, you'll be back in a year asking for a payroll of $150 million," Victor said.