NFL Lockout Would Be Huge Mistake for Both NFL and Players

The NFL and its players' association have it all wrong.

With the collective-bargaining agreement between the two sides slated to expire Thursday, the 2011 NFL season is inching closer to being postponed at best and cancelled at worst.

On the one side are the players, who want—what else—more money from the owners, including a greater share of the multi-billion dollar TV-revenue pie and another salary increase if the NFL season increases from 16 to 18 games, as has been proposed.

That's all good for the players.

On the other side is the league, which wants to reduce player salaries significantly, with some estimates of roughly a 30-percent pay cut—or more.

And as for increasing the NFL schedule from 16 to 18 games, the league wants that hike without paying the players any more money to compensate them for the additional games: The logic is that players will have two less preseason games replaced by the two extra games that will count, essentially playing the same number of games in the league's eyes. Of course, there is the additional risk involved when it comes to injuries and the like.

Let's stop right there. It's easy to understand each side's point of view. But dig a little deeper and you'll see that both are making huge tactical errors in the way they're approaching the potential lockout, which could come as early as Friday.

The NFL has suffered a number of public relations gaffes in recent years, the most recent being last month at the Super Bowl, when several hundred fans who had paid a lot of money for their tickets found their seats were nowhere to be found come game time.

To add insult to injury, the NFL offered an embarrassingly-low financial settlement at first to the displaced fans, before coming back a second time with a much improved gesture.

While the players are hoping to capitalize on NFL troubles like that, they're not angels in this whole passion play either. They want more, more and more. And given how much the owners bring in a year—not to mention the $4 billion TV-revenue war chest that they're sitting on and have at the ready to dole out in the event the players are indeed locked out—I can see the players' point.

But it's a very small point at the same time.

The base salary for an NFL rookie is around $300,000 per season. But try finding someone who makes that little. It'll be hard, trust me.

Rather, the more significant number to keep in mind is that the average player salary in the NFL today is somewhere between $1 million and $1.25 million per season, with some of the league's top stars pushing $20 million or more per season, typically with contracts laden heavily with incentives.

You mean to tell me the average NFL player can't live comfortably on anywhere from $1 million to more than $20 million a year? Sure, the average NFL career expectancy is only about three-and-a-half years, but if a player can't sock away a good chunk of his earnings for a rainy day, even in an abbreviated career, then is it the league's fault that he can't manage his money properly?

Should teams have to pay upwards of 25 percent or more—at least that's what the players' association is seeking—just because some players would rather buy a Rolls or Bentley or Ferrari than worry about funding a decent IRA?

This is the absolute worst time for the players to be seeking more money. How many NFL fans have been laid off from their jobs in the last three years? How many have been laid off more than once in that same span? How many fans have stopped buying tickets and going to NFL games because they simply can't afford them?

Sorry, but I have little sympathy for the "poor" NFL players that want more of the pot controlled by owners and the league. The owners are entitled to most of that money because they're the ones who foot the bill for the team, the equipment and oftentimes the stadiums their teams play in. And I know I'm not alone in my feelings.

If the NFL gives in to the players' financial demands, who's going to be the one to pick up the tab?

Joe Fan, that's who, through higher ticket prices, higher souvenir costs and higher concession stand prices. Trust me, the $10 stadium hot dog is not as far away as you might think.

How can the NFL, in good conscience, even think about raising prices in this economy? Sure, the U.S. financial house is slowly getting better, but if a devastating incident occurs—like the continued unrest in Libya and elsewhere that could send prices of oil to record highs—all gains we've slowly made the last three years will be lost.

And money-strapped NFL fans will be right in the middle of a disaster waiting to happen. Not only will they be out of jobs or in foreclosure or bankruptcy, their ardor for the game and their favorite team will also quickly disappear.

After all, you can't pay the bills with a Peyton Manning jersey.

And how can the players—again in good conscience—think they deserve to be paid, say, 100 times more than what the average fan makes in a year and by arguably performing much harder work?

Every other major professional sports league has its eyes on what's happening in the NFL. The NBA is close behind, with the likelihood of its own lockout after July 1. Major League Baseball has already started making noise about bringing its own player salaries back "in line." And the NHL, which only a few years ago suffered through a debilitating lockout that it's only started to recover from, is also wondering how the NFL players drama will play out.

Face it, the NFL is the best reality show on TV. We all love to watch the strategies, the collisions, the interceptions, fumbles and the emotion. We also like other storylines, from one player allegedly sending a photo of his private parts to a cheerleader's cell phone, to a coach whose wife does kinky things with her feet.

If I were NFL commissioner Roger Goodell or players association boss DeMaurice Smith, I'd take a long look in the mirror, and at each other, before the rash move of a lockout is made. If they think they're still far away today, after almost non-stop negotiations for the better part of the last two weeks, they'll be back at square one if a lockout occurs.

There is a way out of this mess in which everyone can save face, however.

The NFL can earn substantial brownie points with fans if they take some of their war chest and put it to use funding better pension and medical benefits, particularly for those players who helped build the game in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s.

The players, in the meantime, can pull off a huge PR coup if they agree to maintain the current salary structure—or perhaps a modest 5-to-10-percent bump, at best—while at the same time giving back some of their earnings to the fans that support them.

Maybe players could help fund job training programs for workers who have been laid off and need to learn skills for a new career. Or maybe form a few more fundraising foundations to offer financial help to those who need it most, particularly the homeless and the working poor living in the inner city.

Both the NFL and players association need to have good news come out of their current impasse. They need a warm, fuzzy outcome that fans can point to and say: "Hey, these guys really do care about me, the little guy."

This way, the NFL and players both win, save face and avoid a lockout that is only going to prove devastating to the league, players, owners, coaches, media and particularly the fans.

It's time for the league and players to stop playing a macho game of chicken and start thinking about just how fortunate they really are in life to be playing a mere game when so many more tens of millions of us have to work for a living to make a buck—that is, if we have a job to go to in the first place.

Pick up Jerry Bonkowski's latest book, "TRADING PAINT -- 101 Great NASCAR Debates", published by Wiley & Sons, at your local bookstore, or online at Wiley.com.