$alaries $kyrocket, robbing $ports of their innocence

Anyone that has read espn.com or watch SportsCenter has seen the staggering numbers:

$25.2 million per year.

$155,555 per game.

$17,284 per inning.

$3,000 per out.

$520 per pitch.

That's right — a $252 million contract spread out over the course of ten years.

That's enough money to buy six different major league franchises — the Cubs, the Giants, the Cardinals, the Tigers, the Phillies and the Twins.

That's enough money to purchase most of the stadiums used by Major League Baseball and the National Football League.

That's more than the GNP of many small countries, and guess what — it's all going to be deposited into the bank account of one single person, Alex Rodriguez.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not about to question the abilities of the most well-rounded player in baseball. A man who can hit over .300, collect 40-50 home runs, drive in 120-140 runs, steal 20-30 bases and provide gold-glove caliber defense every year is worth a hefty fee. But $252 million? Please.

Babe Ruth's average salary (if adjusted for inflation over the course of 60 years) would now only come to around $196,000 per year. Players like Ted Williams, Willie Mays and Hank Aaron never made close to a million dollars in any one year. Now, however, a million dollars has become chump change. It truly seems as if the finances of the game have become more important than the actual game itself.

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In an age of television contracts and commercial endorsements, money has become the bottom line. Those with it are able to purchase top-level athletes and put together a competitive franchise. Those without it are doomed to fail. It has become a sickening cycle that has damaged the game of baseball.

The problems, however, are not only limited to the diamond. Kevin Garnett of the Minnesota Timberwolves makes $19.6 million per year. And if that's not bad enough, Formula One racecar driver Michael Schumacher receives $27.6 million per year for his services. All across the sporting world, the amount of money being thrown around has reached astronomical proportions. The world of athletics has become a business, pure and simple.

Where can we find refuge from this disheartening trend?

One used to be able to turn to college sports as an escape from the money-grubbing. Rivalries like Auburn-Alabama, Duke-North Carolina and Texas-Texas A&M used to make us forget about the business of sports — and sometimes they still do. Nevertheless, it has become harder and harder to find a major college sports team that isn't sponsored by Nike or Adidas, or a major tournament or bowl game that hasn't sold its name to a corporation. What used to be amateur athletic competition at its highest level is now nothing but a breeding ground for professional talent.

So how do we shake free from the business side of sports?

It's difficult, but I think we have to start at the top. Every professional athlete undoubtedly deserves compensation based upon his or her own unique abilities, but there has to be some limit to that payment. Other sports need to take a lesson from the NFL and establish a cap on team spending. We need to avoid situations like the one we see now with the Texas Rangers. The Rangers — a team valued at just over $250 million two years ago — have dedicated more than that amount to a single player. That's over a quarter of a billion dollars invested in one man. To put it bluntly, that's ridiculous.

Professional athletes — whether they play baseball, football, basketball or some other sport —have dedicated their entire lives to a particular game, and deserve to be rewarded for this sacrifice. The rewards, however, do not have to come in the form of eight-figure contracts and endorsement deals. It used to be compensation enough just to play sports for a living. Some athletes still recognize that fact. Most, unfortunately, do not. Our society has forced athletes to become businessmen, and therein lies the problem.

College athletes used to worry about only wins and losses. Now many have to think about hiring agents and financial planners to deal with their monetary concerns. At Princeton, it's easy to lose sight of money's growing effect on the world of athletics. We don't see the monetary windfall of BCS bowl games, we don't see classmates signing eight-figure contracts (okay, maybe seven-figure contracts) and we don't see free-agent bidding wars. What we see are sports in their purest and most natural form — no salary arbitration, no scholarships, no signing bonuses. I, for one, think we're better off for it. Money, at least in the Ivy League, comes second to competition. That's the way it used to be in all levels of sports, and that's the way it still should be.

In reality, however, I think the "Rodriguezation" of sports may be inevitable. Money is a powerful force — especially in large sums. It's almost hard to blame athletes, like Alex Rodriguez, for taking what they are offered. After all, in the time it took for you to read this article, A-Rod could have made $5000.