Where did I come from?
Where does this road go,
Will it lead me home?

The above title and lyrics are drawn from my debut CD and its title track. While I am obviously not above some shameless self-promotion, I think it is a very appropriate place to begin a discussion on how an MLB team says goodbye to a legend.

For 2009, we have Griffey's return to Seattle and Giambi's return to Oakland -- and that only counts players whose names begin with the letter 'G', (sorry Glavine, but you came back in '08, so you don't count for this season). But it begs the questions, "Why did they leave?" and "Why did they come back?"

Mostly, the answers lie with the economic oddities of MLB. The simple truth about baseball is also true in large part throughout all of the American workplace. This truth is that almost no one is actually paid what they are worth. There is a natural, (almost unavoidable), lag between production and compensation. Excluding pure commission based jobs, before you have a chance to PROVE your value, no one will, (or should), throw scads of money at you. So, initially, you're paid "as if" you're going to fail. Given the 75% washout rate for first round draft picks, this makes sense. But, in real-world land compensation inches upward a bit each year with an occasional salary jump from a promotion.

For MLB, clubs don't HAVE to pay more than league minimum for three years. Then they get another three years of arbitration, (the ultimate backward looking compensation program, where you are paid based specifically on what you've just finished doing). Of course, arbitration is designed to include longevity in the calculation, so the younger you are, the less money you'll get even with equal production.

While common wisdom (perception) assumes salaries pay for the production DURING the contract, in truth, they largely pay for the production immediately BEFORE the contract was signed. Of course, potential changes in production are given lip service. But, the salaries actually signed are skewed severely toward the past, not the future. If you have eight years of stellar production, you may be forgiven for a bad season, (Andruw Jones), but rarely will you be forgiven for two. But, future production can always simply be a guess. NOBODY knows with any certainty the exact point in time when age catches up to a player and he goes from being an everyday playing All Star to a regular visitor to the DL with declining skills.

AROD got his $25 million a year AS A REWARD for his production for Seattle. Of course, Texas hoped for that production to continue, and given his age this was a reasonable expectation, (but still a risk). The Phillies hope Ibanez to continue duplicating his Seattle numbers, but given his age, it is a much larger risk that the Phillies are taking. They "hope" he is worth what they are paying, but the amount of money he got is based on what he just finished doing.

It may seem from a pragmatic standpoint to reward a player for production he gave to his former team is insane, (and it is). But, that's how things are set up. It's the rules the vast majority of teams play by. So, nobody really pays much attention, since it is, in fact, business as usual. How did San Fran reward Zito? How did L.A. compensate Schmidt? Or, Brian Giles in San Diego? The list is endless, because it's business as usual in MLB.

OF course, what's true in general doesn't apply in every situation. Single season contracts minimize MONEY/Production lags. But, we're talking about legends, and legends don't (normally) settle for 1-year deals -- at least not until the bottom of the 9th of their careers roll around.

The problem here is that it is economically easier to ACQUIRE a legend than to retain him. The ARRIVAL of a legend will often immediately fill seats, create excitement, (make money). Retaining an existing legend retains the status quo. A decision to let a legend go may induce some vocal outrage, but it rarely has significant negative impact on a franchise that seems to be TRYING to stay competitive. A sad truth of human behavior is said best by Joni Mitchell - "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone ..."

The glory days, when players stayed with one team from draft to retirement are gone because of an economic system that penalizes loyalty -- at least in the pocketbooks of ALL involved parties. When a legend reaches the age where decline is likely, it is almost impossible to maintain a competitive edge (financially), because the money is huge and the decline is impossible to accurately assess. Houston was the most loyal club around to Bagwell and Biggio. But it cost them $16 million a year for a broken Bags, and allowed a top prospect to whither in the minors behind Biggio. Admirable, perhaps. But, without the Bagwell contract and uncertainty of health, maybe the club retains Beltran and gets to a few more World Series. Instead, the loyalty slowed the agility of the organization.

Atlanta allowed Maddux, Glavine and finally Smoltz to all leave. While they were unable to flip the roster and keep winning, they did give themselves a chance to do so. And based on the results of Glavine and Maddux and Andruw Jones after departure, they made the right call.

But what about all these discarded heroes returning home? Well, this happens almost exclusively AFTER decline has set in and salary is shrinking for these players. Once again, it works great financially, because even though the fans know they are getting echoes, those original fans are the ones most likely to appreciate those echoes. The expectations are more realistic - the salaries are more realistic - but the adoration is just as strong, or maybe even stronger.

But, the reward for the player is likely far richer. The grab for money is mostly a young man's obsession. As the legend approaches retirement, when they know the end of the road is near, it is then they are most likely to have a far greater appreciation for all the non-monetary ingredients of their lives. The players are human, too. And like the fans, they can enjoy the echoes from their former greatness most readily where they were greatest. Manny was recently quoted as saying how neat it would be to return to Cleveland to end his story where it started.

This may actually be the ultimately perfect path for a legend. The fans who watched the rise to greatness do not have to witness the slow and frustrating decline of age and injury up close. The glory years will remain strong in the memory and the highlights of the swan song will add poignancy and depth. Like seeing a high school sweetheart at a 25th reunion, they may be older, larger, grayer -- but the heart can see through time and space.

Though there may be only moments instead of montages as the legend returns for his curtain call, they will be magical moments magnified, not minimized, by time.

Where did I come from?
Where we all come from.
Where I'm headed now,
To a place of love.

The Road Home may take strange twists and turns, but as the saying goes, "If you love something, set it free. If it returns, it is yours."

The city of Seattle has received a great gift. The Prodigal Son has returned. Now, how about we go and slay some fatted calves?