The two national stalemates will (hopefully) be over by the first week of August
The NFL preseason is supposed to begin a month from yesterday. In a lockout-free universe, St. Louis would play Chicago on Aug. 7 in the annual Hall of Fame Game, a week before league-wide exhibition begins in earnest, as ESPN's mobile app reminds me whenever I check box scores. Every time I see that empty score for a game that probably won't happen, I shake my head.
The preseason isn't the same as the regular season (there are no real playoff- or division-related consequences) but preseason games are NFL games nonetheless, and, as such, they're worth money. TV contracts, advertising, brand exposure, per-game salaries for players -- whenever two NFL teams face off in a televised event, there are serious dollars involved for all affiliated parties. It's amazing to me that a labor dispute will prevent this game from being played.
Five days before the Hall of Fame Game doesn't happen, the U.S. either will or will not have defaulted on its sovereign debt: The Treasury has set Aug. 2 as a final deadline for Congress and the president to settle their differences and raise the statutory federal debt limit, before the country defaults and U.S. credit is downgraded.
Just like the players and owners, congressional Republicans and President Obama have been negotiating without result.
Both sides recognize a deal should be done, and eventually will be done. Yet, somehow, they haven't been able to reach one. There's been posturing on both sides. House Majority Leader Eric Cantor walked out of talks led by Vice President Biden. The players' union disbanded. On Saturday night, House Speaker John Boehner said he wants to pursue a smaller deal, closer to what Biden's working group discussed. Obama, according to his Treasury secretary, now wants more cuts than Republicans do. But when it hits the fan in early August, no one expects the U.S. to default on its debt, and no one thinks the NFL will cease to operate as a sports league, or even bring in replacement players. As serious as all this negotiating is, it is also the very definition of charade.
I'm not necessarily confident that these billion and trillion-dollar stalemates can really inform our opinions of each other, or that there is intrinsic value in sports-life, sports-politics, or sports-deficit parallels, but there's something about watching these things play out that makes people cringe in the same way.
We know they'll make a deal eventually. Why can't they make a deal now? The waiting is the hardest part.
Some broad-stroke similarities:
Millionaires and billionaires
Ever heard the NFL lockout described as a fight between millionaires and billionaires? You probably have, because, literally, it is (except that not all players have it so great), and sports commentators and columnists appropriately like to point that out when talking about fan reactions to the possibility that such impossibly rich people will deprive them of Sundays and Monday nights full of beer, wings, and the gruesome crunch-sounds picked up by FOX's on-field mics.
The same is true of the legislators negotiating over the debt ceiling, and how much money to cut from the federal budget. In 2009, the last year for which personal financial disclosures have been publicized, the richest member of Congress, California Republican Darrell Issa, listed his maximum net worth as $451.1 million. Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner is worth up to $6.05 million. And these guys might cut Social Security benefits? In the words of Keyshawn Johnson, come on, man!
The NFL is worth an insane amount of money. Five teams -- the Redskins, Patriots, Cowboys, Texans, and Eagles -- are worth over $1 billion each. In 2008, the NFL took in $8.8 billion in revenue. It makes more money than any other sports league: Major League Baseball grew its revenue to $7 billion in 2010, while the NBA took in just $3.8 billion that year. And multiple industries, including sporting equipment, advertisers who target the NFL's demographic, and local bars and restaurants all depend on the NFL. For every game that isn't played, ripple effects will be felt by Nike, FOX, ESPN, and any restaurant that serves nachos and owns a TV.