It's cheap labor. Baseball essentially runs a talent sweatshop in these countries. The game exploits the hell out of those players, the ones who make it and, worse, the ones who don't. The players exploit them right back. It's an arrangement -- and, even with the age shenanigans, still a lopsided one in the teams' favor. College basketball players might find this familiar.
Even if you pay only halfhearted attention to the game, you know that this is going on.
ESPN paid only halfhearted attention to that part of the Tejada story, though.
There are ways to at least give the appearance of legitimacy to the situation, to regulate scouting, signing and identity confirmation. Put every amateur prospect in the world into the draft. Make teams pay as much of a signing bonus for the next Tejada as they do for the next Alex Rodriguez.
In return, give them a chance to decide, in the light of day, whether they want to sink that investment into a 19-year-old raw phenom or a 17-year-old. No more separate sets of rules for different pools of players.
Of course, those are two things baseball isn't interested in doing: paying more money and surrendering the upper hand. It doesn't have to agonize, like the NFL's Miami Dolphins, over paying someone $30 million guaranteed before he has even lined up as a pro. Now, that would be must-see TV, Bill Parcells being shown a birth certificate stating that Jake Long is 28.
But if, under the circumstances, a Latino player or two, or 20, gets away with the ol' birth date switcheroo -- especially if he's hitting .370 -- baseball can live with it. The Astros apparently can. So can the Orioles. Nobody seems to believe Tejada truly defrauded anybody.
The lone target of any real anger -- and it's coming from several quarters -- is ESPN.
This can happen when a real, human story is sitting right in front of you, and you don't recognize it because you're too busy waving a birth certificate in his face.
david.steele@baltsun.com
Listen to David Steele on Wednesdays at 9 a.m. on WNST (1570 AM).
