Today’s guest column is from professors John Cairney and Rick Burton.
Most baseball fans are currently focused on one of two things. If their team is still in the playoffs, they are obsessing over current and possible postseason matchups. If their club was eliminated, they are probably already looking toward 2027.
Almost nobody is thinking about collective bargaining. Almost nobody, except the obvious vested interests—and those of us who study the baseball business. That will change if Major League Baseball shuts down in 2027.
The league and the MLB Players Association have been negotiating a new collective bargaining agreement since May, with the current deal expiring Dec. 1. And perhaps no issue is more consequential—or potentially contentious—than MLB’s proposal for a salary cap and salary floor.
Enter the Milwaukee Brewers, winners of an MLB-best 103 games and, for the fourth consecutive season, the National League Central. And the Crew did it with nothing resembling baseball’s biggest payroll.
Of this, we are certain: The player’s union noticed.
MLBPA interim executive director Bruce Meyer has specifically pointed to the recent success of teams like Milwaukee when challenging MLB’s competitive-balance argument. His point is straightforward: Cap systems don’t guarantee competitive balance, because teams like Milwaukee’s payroll ranking (19th) and Tampa Bay’s (23rd) provide examples of lower-payroll teams keeping up with much richer clubs.
The Brewers and Rays (who won an impressive 98 games) therefore look like particularly compelling exhibits. To channel Dr. Suess, little cats A and B.
If two top teams can consistently win while spending considerably less than baseball’s financial heavyweights, what exactly is the problem a salary cap will supposedly solve?
Clearly, a careful owner doesn’t need to spend the most money to win division crowns. So why prevent billionaires (willing and able to spend lavishly) from opening their wallets for free agents?
Could an objective jury suggest this case should be closed? Not quite.
The Brewers and Rays got us wondering about the other side of the argument. If Milwaukee and Tampa Bay become exhibits for salary cap opponents, what would MLB owners say in response?
We came up with four answers. There are undoubtedly others—and perhaps better ones—but here’s our quartet.
First, four exceptions (we’ve added in little cats C and D with the Chicago White Sox and Cleveland Guardians) don’t necessarily make the rule. That raises the question of whether this is really about someone’s desire for “competitive balance.”
MLB has explicitly structured its argument around equality of opportunity rather than equality of outcomes. Under that framing, competitive balance doesn’t mean every club should finish 81-81. Why? Because superior scouting, player development, coaching and decision-making all create advantages.
Admittedly, our two exhibits have been exceptionally good at all of them. But that leads to a different interpretation of the success. Milwaukee and Tampa Bay may demonstrate that superbly run smaller-market organizations can overcome an annual financial/salary disadvantage.
But that doesn’t mean the disadvantage doesn’t exist.
Indeed, the Brewers, Rays, ChiSox and Guardians (they of the absolute lowest salary payroll) could be evidence for both sides at once. The union can say, “See, you don’t need a cap to compete.”
The owners respond with, “See how exceptionally well you have to operate a club without the resources of the wealthy.” Milwaukee, Tampa, Cleveland and Chicago prove the financial gap can be overcome—not that it doesn’t matter.
Second, building a winner and sustaining one aren’t necessarily the same thing. The Brewers and Rays have been unquestionably successful for multiple years. But two questions linger. Can they keep their rosters together as their best players become increasingly expensive? And come mid-October, can either club win the big prize?
MLB has made player retention a central part of its competitive-balance case, arguing smaller-market teams should have greater ability to retain the stars they develop rather than eventually losing them to clubs with greater financial resources.
Then there is October. Milwaukee and Tampa Bay have never won a World Series (and Cleveland hasn’t won since 1948). Indeed, Kansas City in 2015 remains the last small-market club to win the World Series.
That doesn’t prove a salary cap is necessary. Far from it. But it does point out a conundrum: Is possessing sufficient resources to compete over 162 games the same thing as possessing sufficient talent to continually assemble and win the Series?
The answer may be yes and no. This October will undoubtedly add interesting data points.
Third, perhaps big payrolls aren’t really about buying wins but more about the consequences of being wrong. This may be the most interesting argument, because one lingering “Moneyball” habit is thinking about payroll in terms of efficiency.
We can measure how many wins an organization purchased for each dollar spent. But can a 103-win team disappear from October in three games? Why, yes, they can. In fact, in 2001, the Seattle Mariners won a record 116 games and promptly lost the American League pennant to the Yankees in five.
This is the advantage of what Purple Row’s Renee Dechert, drawing on Pedro Moura, calls “optionality”: Better resources give teams more ways to respond when things go wrong. Wealth doesn’t guarantee better decisions. It makes bad ones easier to survive.
We think that insight leads to a broader question. Perhaps baseball’s financial imbalance isn’t simply about the unequal ability to purchase talent. Maybe it’s also about the unequal cost of failure.
Consider two teams that each make a $30 million mistake. A wealthy club can absorb it, find a replacement and try again. For a club operating closer to Cleveland, Chicago, Milwaukee or Tampa’s payroll, the same mistake consumes a far greater share of its resources—and leaves far less room to recover.
Money therefore may not buy certainty, but it may fund resilience.
If that postulation is true, the competitive-balance question changes subtly: Are wealthier clubs better positioned to survive the inevitable mistakes and misfortunes involved in trying to win it all?
The extraordinary efficiency of the 2026 Brewers and Rays doesn’t necessarily answer that question, but it may actually help illuminate it.
Finally, we think when the smoke clears what fans will see is that MLB’s owners aren’t proposing just a ceiling. They’re also proposing a floor. The league’s initial proposal would establish a $245.3 million salary cap and a $171.2 million salary floor in 2027.
Based on 2026 Opening Day payrolls, the Washington Post reported eight clubs would have needed to reduce payroll. But 12 would’ve been required to spend more. The Brewers, Rays, Guardians and the surprising Sox were four of them.
That turns the Milwaukee-Tampa example on its head. The owners’ response could be: Exactly.
Milwaukee has constructed one of baseball’s best teams while spending approximately $131 million. Imagine an economic system that required the Brewers to put another $40 million into that roster while simultaneously reducing the spending advantage enjoyed by baseball’s richest clubs. The numbers are even crazier for the Rays and White Sox. They’re positively insane for the Guardians.
That, in turn, invites an equally powerful response from the players. Why does accomplishing the first objective require the second?
The MLBPA’s proposal points toward another solution: Greater revenue sharing, coupled with penalties for clubs failing to meet minimum payroll benchmarks or invest revenue-sharing proceeds in players.
So, if Milwaukee can build baseball’s best team at its current payroll, why prevent the Dodgers, Yankees, Mets or anyone else from paying players what they believe they are worth? Why not strengthen revenue sharing and require lower-spending clubs to invest more in players—without imposing a ceiling?
And suddenly the Brewers, Rays, Guardians and Sox aren’t evidence for either side so much as evidence of how complicated the question is.
Competitive balance can mean comparable payrolls, chances of reaching October or the financial capacity to survive mistakes. Those are not the same thing.
Milwaukee, Tampa, Cleveland and Chicago will undoubtedly be part of the bargaining conversation despite their status as lesser cats. But despite the attention their success receives, how much should four exceptional teams really tell us about the economics of an entire league? Perhaps not much. Or, possibly, too much.
Then again, high-stakes labor negotiations are rarely won—or lost—on economic evidence alone. They’re often determined by brutal strategies and tactics requiring unwanted compromise or “couldn’t stand the pain” submission.
John Cairney is the dean of the School of Kinesiology at the University of Michigan. Rick Burton is Syracuse University’s David Falk Emeritus Professor of Sport Management and former commissioner of Australia’s National Basketball League.
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