AN UNWHOLE NEW BALL GAME

By Steve Wulf

A group of unemployed migrant workers gathered last Friday morning on a field at a makeshift camp in Homestead, Florida. These laborers, handy with lumber and leather and cowhide, were not only looking for work but were also looking very familiar. One man, who bore a remarkable resemblance to former National League Rookie of the Year Chris Sabo, said, "Hopefully, I'll just be here for one day, but who knows in this situation? I've always been optimistic, but I'll just have to wait and see." Actually, it really was Chris Sabo. And former World Series mvp Dave Stewart. And Bobby Witt, Mariano Duncan, Randy Velarde . . . The players, 28 in all, nearly outnumbered the fans. Welcome, gentlemen, to Camp Fehr. Welcome to Baseball 1995.

This spring training camp, organized by the Players Association for its unemployed members, is perhaps the best symbol of the bizarre and distressed nature of the national pastime. The walls of the stadium in Homestead were salmon, the seats turquoise and the mood blue. "It feels strange, to say the least," said Velarde. The players were there to get in shape and audition for jobs, but there was only one, count him, one scout there last Friday.

More scouts are expected as the April 25 season opener approaches, and more of the job seekers will descend upon Homestead as clubs pass on players they would have ordinarily kept. Baseball may be back, but it's not baseball as usual. Last week the Montreal Expos, who had the best team-and smallest payroll-in baseball when the strike hit on Aug. 12, virtually gave away centerfielder Marquis Grissom, reliever John Wetteland and starter Ken Hill because management didn't want to pay them.

All in all, the 232-day strike cost the owners an estimated $700 million, the players $250 million and the fans 921 regular-season games, not counting the World Series and other postseason games. Yet the most staggering figure to come out of the strike the players called-and the owners asked for-was zero. That was what both sides accomplished by the work stoppage, which officially ended at 11:59 p.m. on April Fools' Day, when the owners decided to tell their replacement players to stand down. The previous day, the Players Association had scored a major victory when U.S. District Judge Sonia Sotomayor issued an injunction sought by the National Labor Relations Board, forcing the owners to return to the work rules of the expired collective-bargaining agreement. So baseball was right back where it started last August, with the same old system in place and no sign of a new agreement. The distrust between union head Don Fehr and acting commissioner Bud Selig is still so vehement that they can't even agree on a mutual no-strike, no-lockout pledge for this season.

Baseball fans are left with a season of 144 games per club, instead of the usual 162; players will find much less demand for their services, and some small-market teams, like the Expos and Kansas City Royals, have already upset the competitive balance by conducting clearance sales. Says Paul Beeston, president of the (still) defending world champion Toronto Blue Jays: "While it's nice to be back, this is a less-than-ideal situation. The worst thing is that we still don't have a deal. The best thing is that we have done such irreparable harm to the game that the players and owners have to work together to win back the fans." --With reporting by Tammerlin Drummond/Homestead

With reporting by TAMMERLIN DRUMMONG/HOMESTEAD