THERE WAS A time when a professional sports team was more than a name. It was a particular city and a particular group of players, and one seemed to take on the personality of the other.
A fan didn't cheer for a franchise, he cheered for a team because of its players and/or the city it represented, whatever the reasons. For the most part, he could count on the same cast of characters to show up year in and year out, like a long-running drama. This gave the team time to develop an identity and the fan a chance to develop a kinship with that team.But no more. We're way past all that now. Free agency, cold-hearted trades, moveable franchises and zillion-dollar contracts have changed everything.
In the past year alone we've seen again that there are no anchors in the sports world, no loyalty, no real teams. The Los Angeles Rams packed up and moved to St. Louis, which had been abandoned by the Cardinals, who moved to Phoenix. The Los Angeles Raiders moved to Oakland, reversing the move they made years earlier.
The team of the '90s is a team on wheels. Even the Pittsburgh Pirates, after 109 years at their current residence, are thinking of moving. Somewhere Robert Clemente is crying.
Teams change addresses almost as often as players. Deion Sanders is the modern itinerant athlete, hiring himself out to the highest bidder, whether it's the Braves, Giants, Falcons, 49ers or Cowboys. The move from the 49ers to the Cowboys seems especially galling and disloyal; he went right over to the enemy for money.
Let's see, who does Jose Canseco play for these days? Has anybody seen where David Cone unpacked his bags? Did he bother? Anybody know the whereabouts of Rickey Henderson and Dave Winfield? Brett Saberhagen? The New York Yankees - "best team money can buy" - change players like clothing.
Blue Edwards will join his fifth NBA team in three years this fall, counting the Jazz twice. Tom Chambers and Eddie Johnson have played for four teams, and they're by no means unusual. Question: For which of the following teams has Moses Malone played? Stars, Spirits, Braves, Rockets, 76ers, Bullets, Hawks, Bucks, 76ers, Spurs. Answer: All of them.
Besides John Stockton and Karl Malone, only two current Utah Jazz players were with the team three years ago (and none of them five years ago).
Being a fan is different than it used to be. Fans can't get attached to a team in the same way they once did. The attachment, in large part, is to the franchise, not to players, because in a year or two the players will be different. It's like cheering for a faceless corporation, like IBM.
It wasn't always this way, of course. There are middle-aged men who can still tell you the starting lineup of the New York Yankees or Green Bay Packers of the 1960s, because they were largely the same teams for years.
Teams used to stay together until nature (read: age) forced change. They became the community and fans for which they played. Even if you weren't a fan of the Pittsburgh Steelers of the '70s, you knew who they were - Bradshaw, Greene, Lambert, Blount, Greenwood, Harris, Swann, Ham . . . a team as tough and hard-bitten as a Pittsburgh winter and the city's blue-collar fans.
The Baltimore Colts were John Unitas, Ray Berry and Lenny Moore. Now they aren't even the Baltimore Colts; they stole off to Indianapolis one night, like burglars. Who can name more than one or two Colt players now?
The Celtics built and maintained a dynasty with the same players, and when they retired, they methodically assembled another team, kept them together and won more championships.
Success used to mean stability; now it means increased marketability and greed and an opportunity to strike out for more money, all of which combines to pull teams apart. The world champion Chicago Bears of 1985 and the world champion New York Mets of 1986 should have been dynasties, but success and the pitfalls of the modern game (free agency, trades, etc.) quickly disassembled those teams. Ditto for the 1991 world champion Minnesota Twins.
The Pittsburgh Pirate teams of early '90s were on the verge of advancing to the World Series, but shortly after winning a second straight division title Barry Bonds, Bobby Bonilla and Doug Drabek left town.
The irony is that, although most of these players make huge financial gains by changing teams, many of them are never the same player again. What most players forget is that their success was at least partly aided by a particular coaching philosophy or style of play and the chemistry of his teammates. Finding those things once is difficult; finding it again . . .
Does anyone think Ricky Watters will be the same player with the Eagles that he was with the 49ers?
But make no mistake; today's itinerant game is here to stay. There's no retreat. Too bad, too. Pro sports are not as fun as they used to be.