On July 22nd, Brent Suter threw his final pitch of the season. Trailing 6-2 in the third inning, with two outs, Suter fielded an Austin Barnes ground ball, threw to first, grimaced, and headed to the clubhouse. The next day, the Brewers announced the left-hander would undergo Tommy John Surgery.
With his arm on the mend, Suter was not an active member of the Brewers roster as they chased down the Cubs in September. He can’t be found in the box score from the 3-1 tiebreaker victory that gave his team the division title. He didn’t pitch while his coworkers swept the Rockies, nor when they took the Dodgers to seven games, coming just innings short of the franchise’s second World Series appearance.
Still, the possibility exists that Brent Suter was the difference between the Brewers finishing 2018 one game from the World Series or bowing out in the Wild Card Game. There were plenty of more important contributors—both on the Brewers’ roster and those of their opponents—but in a season in which each individual game took on significant value, Suter generated 1.0 fWAR. The man was one win better than a replacement-level pitcher. Of course, this doesn’t mean the Brewers were exactly one win more successful for having Suter. That’s not how WAR works. But it does allow for the possibility that had Brent Suter not played for the 2018 Milwaukee Brewers, the 2018 Milwaukee Brewers might not have quite made up the late-season deficit in the NL Central, forcing them into one do-or-die playoff game they very well could have lost.
It’s important to remember players like Suter because in baseball, differences are made on the margins. In a race as close as that of the 2018 NL Central, outcomes can hinge on events and players that seem inconsequential when viewed independently. Every pitch, every bounce, every dollar could be the difference.
It’s the last of those three—every dollar—that was of particular interest to the Oakland A’s over the past few months, and evidently to powers that be within Major League Baseball, as Kyler Murray’s potential abandonment of outfielding in favor of quarterbacking provoked deal-makers to try to find Murray’s price and rule-makers to consider legalizing major league contracts for two-sport athletes in the draft.
Both these responses made sense. The A’s were staring down a terrible return on their investment: They spent a high draft pick on Murray, not to mention the portion of his signing bonus he’d already earned. Major League Baseball was staring down a metaphorical black eye: What does it say about baseball when a high-profile athlete, given the opportunity to either play baseball or play a sport grappling with major issues of brain safety, chooses the latter?
Kyler Murray, on the other side of the brokering, was in a powerful position for two reasons: First, he was a valuable commodity. He was one of the most talented players in the 2018 MLB draft class, and unquestionably the most famous. The A’s, and the MLB, had a lot to lose. Second, his alternative to baseball was a compelling alternative. There are reasons children dream of playing quarterback in the NFL.
Drawing considerably less attention, though it’s drawn significant attention as a human interest story, is a much greater threat to baseball’s on-field product than what to do with two-sport stars. While Murray’s situation deservedly grabbed (and continues to grab) headlines, it did so in part because it’s rare. Deion Sanders, Bo Jackson, and Jeff Samardzija notably wrestled with their own version of Murray’s decision, but beyond them, examples are lacking. Murray’s decision to play football is a disappointment for the MLB, and a major disappointment for the A’s farm system, but the quality of baseball played on major league diamonds won’t be significantly affected. Meanwhile, baseball’s talent pool is drying on the edges, partially thanks to the terms of minor league contracts.
Which brings things back to Brent Suter.
Like Murray, Suter had the choice of whether or not to play baseball professionally. He still does have that choice, to be technical, but the choice now is much clearer than it was earlier in his 20’s.
Brent Suter graduated from Harvard in 2012. While his classmates presumably moved to New York, London, and San Francisco, going the places Harvard graduates go to do the things Harvard graduates do, Suter went to Helena, Montana. Once there, he spent his first summer out of college playing baseball in towns like Missoula, Ogden, and Idaho Falls.
A 31st-round draft pick, Suter wasn’t a highly touted prospect. Nevertheless, he rose at a comfortable pace through the Brewers’ farm system, moving from Helena to Appleton, Wisconsin at the end of the 2012 season, and making further stops in places like Huntsville, Biloxi, and Colorado Springs en route to his big league debut in 2016.
All told, it took about four years for Suter to make the transition from 31st-round draft pick to major league pitcher. His salary grew as he ascended, but never approached the paydays his classmates received until he arrived on his first major league roster. At every moment, there was the risk he would never make the majors, due to development, injury, or decisions outside his control.
Brent Suter made it.
Many don’t.
What becomes of those who don’t? Well, at some point, they’re either released and go unsigned or they retire. The option of retirement is always there for minor leaguers. Their decisions to retire or continue to play aren’t publicized, like that of Kyler Murray, but they happen. On the side of continuing to play, players are incentivized by the possibility of one day making a major league roster, along with however much fulfillment they get out of playing minor league baseball. On the side of retirement, there’s the opportunity to begin a career in a line of work where one’s salary, and alongside it standard of living, will rise with more certainty than as a ballplayer. There’s the opportunity for education, another potential boost for quality of life. There’s the opportunity to start a family, or to at least be there for one from which they’d been absent for weeks or months at a time.
Those alternative options, for Brent Suter, were pretty good. Sure, if his baseball career flamed out, he’d enter the workforce a few years behind his peers. But he’d still have a Harvard degree, and his time as a minor leaguer would certainly make his stand out in a pile of résumés.
There’s no way, without asking him, to know what Suter’s calculus was as he continued to play baseball. He may have felt he had such a strong “fallback plan” that there was no reason not to continue pitching. Contrarily, he might have felt the risk of emerging into the workforce four, five, or six years “late,” with no savings and no tangible experience, was a mighty one. Both are reasonable frames of mind, and for a reasonable person in Suter’s position, the emphasis placed on these factors would vary.
For many in Suter’s cleats, the alternatives aren’t as strong. Most players who are drafted enter professional baseball out of high school, after some time in junior college, or midway through college. They don’t have a college degree, and once being able to hit or throw a 90-mph fastball stops being a job requirement, they often have few monetizable skills.
Simultaneously, the financial risks of continuing to play are greater for these players. The alternatives aren’t as strong as Suter’s were, but the worst-case scenario is much worse.
Of all 842 players who signed after being selected in the 2018 draft, 25% of them received a signing bonus of $13,125 or less, according to data compiled by Spotrac. Of that 25%, 43 players signed for a bonus of only $1,000 dollars. Now, a check for $13,125, or even for $1,000, isn’t something anyone would turn down. For many of these players, though, it’s expected to be a large portion of the money off of which they live for the duration of their minor league career.
Say a player, like Suter, is drafted in the 31st round. He signs for a bonus of $13,125, slightly more than an average 31st-rounder, and reports immediately to Single-A ball (this, in itself, is unusual, but makes for an easier calculation). Reports vary on what a Single-A player is paid, but let’s trust this piece from Forbes, which says the average Single-A player not in a High-A league receives $1,300 per month, in addition to health insurance, life insurance, a $25 stipend each day on road trips, and food and lodging on the road.
Say this player lives and plays in South Bend, Indiana, a cheap city home to a Midwest League team (Single-A, not High-A). Perusing healthcare.gov, it appears health insurance there is worth about $200 a month, which comes out to $2,400 a year. The life insurance, provided the player doesn’t die, is worth nothing, and if the player dies, the life insurance is only worth something to people other than the player. In the Midwest League, teams play 70 road games a year. Say this player isn’t very good at eating for cheap, and averages $5 per meal while at home. These 70 days on the road each earn him about $40—the stipend plus what he would be spending on meals (he still has to pay rent, so staying in a motel or sleeping on a bus doesn’t save him any money). In benefits, then, the player is receiving approximately $5,200 of value. The minor league season runs for five months of the year (April-August), so while the player wouldn’t report until summer, let’s say the fiscal year begins in July. Over that year, the player earns $6,500 in salary.
All told, the player’s compensation from his primary employer is about $11,700 in this example, plus the $13,125 signing bonus.
But, of course, there’s the offseason. Say the player works a minimum-wage job ($7.25/hour in Indiana, as it is federally) 40 hours a week for the entire offseason—from the beginning of September to the middle of February, at which point the player gets himself to spring training. Sure, the player could theoretically pick up extra hours, but he’s responsible for his own training in the offseason, which can itself be a full-time job. Extra hours would further doom an already improbable dream. Over these five and a half months (24 weeks), the player brings home $6,690.
Say that the player continues this for two full calendar years. Over these two years, the player’s average yearly salary, including benefits, the signing bonus, and fifty cents found on a sidewalk once a year, is $25,223. A living wage in South Bend, Indiana, as reported by MIT, is $11.05/hour, which comes out to $22,984 over a year of full-time work. Extend the player’s stay in Single-A, and the average annual salary drops, as the bonus is spread out over more time. Live in a more expensive city than South Bend (which could even include fellow Midwest League towns as unheralded as Beloit, Wisconsin) and the living wage rises.
This, it should be repeated, is for a player who is better off than 25% of his peers in terms of signing bonus, and better off in salary than those sent to Rookie ball rather than Single-A. Drop the signing bonus to $1,000, and drop the salary to the minor league minimum ($1,160/month, as reported by The Ringer), and average annual compensation over two years falls to $18,460.
Understandably, there’s outrage about the humanity of all this, especially after Congress exempted billionaire baseball owners from paying minimum wage in thelaughably named Save America’s Pastime Act. Minor league baseball players spend nights on buses, work non-stop for six and a half months of the year, consume an unhealthy diet, and, unlike Brent Suter, often have neither a major league baseball career in their future nor a Harvard degree in their pocket. The previous calculations deal only with players eligible for the draft, and not international signees, but the portion of players who enter the minor leagues via the draft is the majority, and the situation isn’t all that different financially for international signees, though they face additional challenges unique to their situation.
Players who choose not to retire, then, fall under some combination of the following three subsets:
- Players who are receiving financial support from a family member, friend, or significant other.
- Players for whom alternative options are so poor that it makes sense to hold on to the lottery ticket of becoming a major league player.
- Players who place such a high value on continuing to play baseball, or on the chance to play major league baseball, that the financial hurdles are worth it.
There are certainly fans of the mindset that all baseball players should fall under the third subset, and that players have the right to retire if they don’t like the price they must pay. What fan, though, doesn’t want to watch the best baseball possible? What fan doesn’t want their team’s owner to shell out a few extra million dollars a year for marginally better odds of a championship?
The possibility exists that the Brewers’ 2018 season was a success due to Brent Suter’s repeated decision not to retire. Across the division, had the Cubs won the tiebreaker game, the same could have been said about David Bote, himself a 1.0 WAR player in 2018 who once had much bleaker odds than Suter, spending all of his first season in Rookie ball, and nearly all of the next three in Single-A.
It seems impolite, at best, to ask Suter or Bote about his financial situation, but they each fell under some combination of those three subsets. Many in their positions choose to retire. Brewers and Cubs fans should be relieved each did not.
The following players were each drafted in the 31st round or later: Mark Buehrle, Mike Piazza, Keith Hernandez, Orlando Hudson, Kenny Rogers, Bake McBride, Robb Nen, Raul Ibanez, Travis Hafner, Kevin Kiermaier, Kevin Pillar.
The list isn’t exhaustive, but it helps illustrate that important players get to the majors via a financial situation akin to that of the hypothetical South Bend player. Kyler Murray’s decision won’t change that many in their cleats choose to retire.
On the margins, baseball is losing all-stars, and possibly hall-of-famers. On the margins, teams are losing games, and possibly championships. On the margins, baseball’s talent pool is shrinking.
What, then, should be done?
Individual teams still can pay their minor leaguers more, if they so choose. At least, I can’t find anywhere that says they can’t. What’s stopping this, of course, is that players’ only alternative is retirement. Unlike Kyler Murray, Brent Suter didn’t have an entire professional sports league courting him. Had he retired, no one would have batted an eye. The Brewers would have missed his 1.0 fWAR last year, but wouldn’t have noticed, and his 100-ish innings would have been filled one way or another. It’s a market inefficiency, but as one with low visibility, it’s hard to convince an owner it’s worth the investment to exploit.
So, the logic goes, open up the market. Currently, minor leaguers only become free agents after six full seasons in the minors. Shorten that to one or two seasons, and theoretically, teams can compete for a player’s services.
In all likelihood, however, this would just incentivize teams to spend more energy than they already do on “sure bet” prospects—the Kris Bryant’s and Bryce Harper’s of the world. It would also be criticized for giving an additional competitive advantage to large-market teams willing to invest in their farm system’s actual players.
So, logic continues, if Major League Baseball wants to combat this, it should raise the minimum minor league salary, or the federal government should stop spending its energy granting the MLB legal exemption from wage laws applied to other employers.
What can you do, as a fan? Well, you have elected officials. You also have the means to contact Major League Baseball, and the front offices/ownership of individual teams. You don’t have a scientific study exploring the extent of this inefficiency, but you do have this blog post – you now know the issue exists. So if you’re unfortunate enough to watch your favorite team’s season end just shy of the playoffs, or earlier than you’d prefer upon getting there, remember your team might have had a Brent Suter or a David Bote waiting in the wings—a Brent Suter or a David Bote who retired.
Note: Upon original publication, this piece referred to Burlington, Wisconsin as the home of a Midwest League team. There is no Midwest League team in Burlington, Wisconsin. This error has been corrected. Thank you to the friend of the blog who pointed it out.
