"Just Be Fair": Why I Have No Sympathy For Veteran Holdouts

Osi Umenyiora, keepin' it awkward at Giants training

camp.  (Voodoo doll of Jerry Reese not pictured.)

Now that most free agents have signed their new contracts, attention turns to those players who wish they had new contracts.  This year, Desean Jackson and Chris Johnson are among those holding out because they think they’re underpaid.  But no one is more front and center of the messy contract dispute stage than the Giants' Osi Umenyiora.

(For the record, Osi is technically not a holdout, since he reports to the Giants’ practice facility every day to crack jokes with his teammates on the sidelines while giving Jerry Reese the stank eye whenever the General Manager walks by.  No, it's not awkward at all.)

This comes as no surprise, since Umenyiora griping about his contract has become an annual ritual.  However, it reached new heights in June, when the disgruntled player claimed in a lawsuit affidavit that Reese broke his promise to renegotiate Osi’s contract.  And last week, he compared his personal contract situation to a microcosm of the systematic oppression that players suffer at the hands of owners (while ignoring the fact that the NFL Players Association just signed a CBA upholding that system).  In an email to the Associated Press, he laments the one-way nature of NFL contracts, where the athlete has to play out his term while the owner can cut him at any time.  He shrewdly uses his former teammates, Shawn O'Hara and Rich Seubert, as examples of two veteran leaders who were unceremoniously cut when the injuries of a long football career had seemingly caught up with them.  He implores Giants fans to see both sides of the dispute, and to “Just be fair.”

And the fact is, Osi is right.  Contract disputes in the NFL are one-sided.  When an owner wants to void an agreement that’s no longer profitable to him, he can cut the player on the spot.  For the athlete to do the same, his only option is to withhold his services, and even then he suffers daily fines and has to eventually report to the team to reach free agency (see: Vincent Jackson and Logan Mankins).  And on top of that, every time he steps on the field, the player risks an injury that could end his career in a heartbeat.

So what is a guy like Osi to do?  Well, there is one way for a player to guarantee that he won’t get trapped in a long-term contract: don’t sign a long-term contract.  It’s very simple.  Every year, sign a one-year deal.  That way, every March you’ll be a free agent, and teams can bid to reward you for what you showed them the previous year.  It’s the ultimate pay-for-performance strategy.  You will always earn what the market says you should earn.  It’s as close as you can get to capitalism in the socialistic NFL.

So why hasn't Osi done this?  One word: insurance.  Osi is quick to blame the obvious lack of job security that a player has when his play becomes too poor to justify his contract.  But he forgets the inherent insurance that that very contract gave him when he first signed it.  Back in 2005, Umenyiora was the 104^th highest paid defensive end in the NFL, still receiving less than $1 million annually under his rookie contract.  Then, mid-season, he signed an extension for $42 million over 6 years, with $15 million of it guaranteed.  It was thought to be the most guaranteed money ever paid to a third year player, and it gave him the 5^th highest salary among defensive ends in 2006.  At the time, his agent said: "This moves Osi into a category with the most elite ends in the game, and that's saying something for a player who hasn't even completed his third season yet."

Umenyiora’s agent knew that the contract, so lucrative then, would become outdated in a few years.  But at the time, Osi needed insurance.  He wanted the $4.5 million signing bonus that would bring him lifelong financial security, even if he tore his ACL the next day.  And he wanted the long-term investment from the Giants, assuring that, if he played as well as he thought he could, he would still have a job if he tore his ACL in three years.  And wouldn't you know, less than three years later, that insurance check came in handy.  In August of 2008, while playing in a preseason game against the Jets, Osi tore his lateral meniscus, ending his season.  And yet, despite not playing for the Giants at all that year, Osi collected his usual seven-figure paycheck.  And when he played poorly the next season, so poorly that he was repeatedly benched, he again collected his usual seven-figure paycheck.

And herein lies the other side of the NFL contract dispute.  If long-term contracts were indeed completely one-sided, with all benefit to the owner, then players would have no reason to sign them.  Players like Osi run to the media to deride the system when they outplay their annual salary, but you hear no complaints when they collect their signing bonus or cash in their paychecks despite underperforming.  The reality is, players surrender part of their earning potential for the insurance and job security of up-front cash and a longer commitment.  Owners pay up on the front side of a contract with signing bonuses and long-term guarantees, and players pay on the back with bargain salaries.  The fact is, one side doesn’t have it any better than the other.  Osi might not want to hear that, but it’s the truth.

After all, I’m just being fair.