A slap in the face

Put yourself in the following situation: You make $10.25 an hour. You have a wife and two kids. You live in a housing project in the inner city. You struggle from meal to meal to provide for your family.

You go to your boss. You ask him for a raise. You say you need at least $12 an hour to put food on the table. You say you need at least $12 to heat your apartment. Your boss isn't having it. He says he'll give you $10.50 if you promise to work for at least the next year.

You say you'd settle for $11 and work for at least the rest of the year. He says he can't afford it. You call his offer an insult. You call it a slap in the face. You quit the job altogether. You go look for another job that will probably only pay $10.

I bet as you were reading those three paragraphs, you said to yourself, "I know exactly who he's talking about -- Ty Law."

That's right. If you haven't heard already, Ty Law -- you know, the same Ty Law who just won a Super Bowl with the Patriots -- is in dire straits financially. He's dead broke. Not a penny in his pockets. We're talking MC Hammer in 1994 poor here. We're talking Mike Tyson post-prison, pre-Clifford Etienne poor.

So he's walking out. Folding his cards. Refuses to play for the Pats. "That bridge is burned," Law told the Boston Globe last Saturday. "I can't even see myself putting on that uniform again."

Because you see, ladies and gentlemen, the first rule of business is respect. And Ty ain't seein' none of that. And who could blame him? You work with these guys a good... uh... seven, eight months out of the year. You have to drag your ass to work every day to put up with... uh... playing a game for a living.

So last month, when the Pats offered Law -- who has two years left on his contract -- a four-year, $26 million deal to replace his current one, Law reacted like anyone else would. He called the offer an insult and a slap in the face.

The Pats tried again. What about a seven-year, $51 million deal with a $14.2 million signing bonus? Not a chance. Law was thinking more along the lines of seven years, $63 million -- including a $20 million signing bonus and $28 million over the first three years.

The Pats' response: "We can't do that. Save the paper." End of negotiations. No new deal for Ty. And Ty isn't happy. "They told me one thing and did another," Law told the Boston Globe. "They said we were going to talk. All of a sudden, negotiations are off."

I'm not even 500 words into this column, and I'm already bawling my eyes out. Who's with me? Is this a sad story or what? All poor little Ty wants is to be the highest paid cornerback in the history of the sport. Is that too much to ask?

And it's not like the team he plays for is even any good! The Pats have some nerve to turn down Ty when all his work has been rewarded with only... um... a Super Bowl title.

He's supposed to make $6.15 million this year and $8.75 million the next, plus $1 million each year in bonuses. The Pats' proposal would cut this down to a paltry $15.6 million total over the next two years. Why in the world would Ty want to take a pay cut? There are so many things you can buy with $16.9 million that you could never dream of affording with $15.6 million.

So Ty has a plan. He wants to buy out his contract. If the Pats trade him before Jun. 1, they have to pay $5.4 million in salary cap money. No problem. Ty's got that. "I told them, 'Instead of you paying me a $7 million salary, I'll pay you. For the next two years of my deal, I'll write you a check, and we'll go free and clear,'" he said.

Genius, Ty, genius. Why doesn't somebody beatify this guy, because I think that plan counts as a miracle. But you know the Patriots. They weren't buying Ty's buy-out. Something about good business practices, bad precedents, common sense... well, you understand. By now, Ty was feeling like Rodney Dangerfield, he couldn't get no respect.

But Ty says he'll show up to training camp. He'll play out this season. But no more. And good for him. Finally, a professional athlete who stands up for what he believes in; a professional athlete who's more about the thanks than the bank.

As a writer, you try to set up every quote you use, give the reader some context, explain why you chose to use the quote. Not on this one. This one is all yours: "The money ain't the thing, because I have that. Then again, I'm not going to sit here and say I don't want $7 million, either. That's stupid. Hell, we all gotta eat."

Good call, Ty, that is stupid.