What Every Team Needs

When a man can write seven-figure checks, he can buy a lot of dreams--wallpaper by Rembrandt, perhaps, or an island in the sun, or a whole line of chorus girls. Charles O. Finley, 45, bought a baseball team. A cigar-chewing Chicago insurance man who made $10 million at his trade, "Call Me Charlie" had dreamed of owning a big-league ball club ever since he was twelve and a batboy for the Birmingham Barons. He tried to buy the Detroit Tigers and the Chicago White Sox, failed each time, finally got his chance when the Kansas City Athletics went on the block in 1960. Plunking down $4,000,000 in cash, he confided: "I'm a baseball nut."

Little Blowhard. Nobody argued. When Finley took over, the Athletics were so deep in the American League cellar that he needed a flashlight to find them. Over 27 seasons in Philadelphia and Kansas City, the A's struggled into the first division only twice, finished dead last 13 times. "The worst team in the history of baseball," somebody once called them, and Former Owner Arnold Johnson made matters worse by turning the team into a kind of farm club for the New York Yankees--trading away such stars as Roger Maris, Cletis Boyer, Ralph Terry, Hector Lopez.

"I may be outsmarted, but I'll never be outhustled," Finley promised. "What this team needs is color." He spent $411,000 renovating Kansas City's Municipal Stadium, painting it yellow, turquoise and orange, then boasting: "I may not have the best team, but I sure have the sexiest ballpark." He installed all kinds of odd gimmicks--a "Fan-O-Gram" that spelled out messages on the Scoreboard (sample: "Welcome to Paul Richards and his flock of chirping Baltimore Orioles"), a "Little Blowhard" that dusted home plate with compressed air, a mechanical rabbit named Harvey that rose out of the ground and fed baseballs to the umpire. He dressed his A's in green-and-gold uniforms ("Kelly green and Finley gold," explained one player), installed a flock of green-andgold-blanketed sheep on a grassy slope behind the rightfield fence, passed out free Stetsons, released thousands of green-and-gold balloons with free tickets attached. He even plumped for an orange colored baseball. "The batters could see it better," he insisted, adding that bats should be green.

Rival players taunted the dandified A's: "Hiya, beautiful." Batters quavered when Harvey burst from his hole with a shriek. The A's still finished in the ruck (ninth in 1961 and 1962, eighth in 1963), and fans stayed home in droves. Over three seasons, the Athletics averaged 694,000 fans--third-worst attendance in the league--and Owner Finley glumly totted up losses of $1,028,000--bringing his total investment to more than $5,000,000.

Up in Arms. That was enough to trigger Finley's temper. He fought skirmishes with sportswriters, got into a violent argument with the city council over the A's stadium lease. He complained that he was paying about $125,000 a year for rent on Municipal Stadium while pro football's Kansas City Chiefs were paying only $1 plus a percentage of the concessions (total: $15,000). Rumors kept popping up that Finley was planning to move--to Atlanta, Dallas, Oakland, San Diego, and goodness knows where else. As fast as they popped up, Finley denied them. "The Athletics are definitely staying in Kansas City," he said on Dec. 20. Seventeen days later, he signed a contract to move the Athletics to Louisville, Ky. --a city that had been unable to make a go of minor-league baseball. To make the desperate switch, Finley needed the approval of other American League owners, and he acted confident of getting it. "I am sure they will approve the move when they hear my case," he said. Not a chance. Kansas City was up in arms. Missouri Senator Stuart Symington was screaming for "justice," and there was talk of a congressional investigation that could spell doom for baseball's special exemption from federal antitrust laws. Besides, the other owners had long regarded Charlie Finley and his antics with ill-concealed dislike.

In Manhattan last week, the owners twiddled their thumbs while Finley pleaded for permission to move to Louisville. Then they voted 9 to 1 (Finley was the one) to ship him back to Kansas City. If Finley wants to sign a new stadium contract by Feb. 1--and maybe lose the $5,000,000 he still has left--that's all right with the American League. If not, well, he can always sell out. Sighs Finley, who promises to fight the decision in court: "Only a damned fool gets into baseball."

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