One of the problems with hiring the best in the world at something is that they expect to be paid nicely for their efforts. This is especially true when they help generate tons and tons of cash -- they just get to the point where they think there is no upper end to how much of your money they should get for letting you watch them do what they do.

Naturally, I am talking about the players of the major leagues who are about to withhold their services from you, in spite of the fact that you've purchased tickets and satellite packages. (Admittedly, the closest I ever got to a law degree was bagging groceries for attorneys who shopped at the supermarket where I used to work, but that sure sounds like breach of contract to me.)

When you go to an RFL game, you would be seeing people just like you doing things about as well as you could. "Who would pay to see this?" you ask, your eyebrows raised in a display of incredulity. Why, you would, of course -- because then, when a pitcher isn't doing well and you trot out that old fan cliché, "I could hit this guy," well, in the case of an RFL pitcher, you probably could.

And what is so important about seeing the very best ply their trade, anyway? Why do we have to see the strongest hitters, the fastest pitchers and the slickest fielders? Isn't there something inherently humiliating in giving somebody money to essentially show you up?

Personally, I find it demeaning to have to watch men who are so much better at what they do than I am. "Oh, look at me, I just hit a ball 450 feet!" they say, while you and I sit in the stands, knowing we'd be lucky to foul off one pitch in a hundred from a major leaguer. Collectively we say, "That's just great! Thanks for reminding me that I'm terrible!" And oh, the money we have to pay to be reminded of our shortcomings! Thirty, forty, fifty dollars per ticket for the privilege of watching a man throw a ball twice as fast as we could ever hope to.

So, if the very best in the world will no longer condescend to condescend to us, let's do an end around on them and the people who hired them. (Lest you think I am letting the owners off the hook for complicity in this work stoppage.)

I come before you today to recommend the creation of a new professional baseball league; one that will nicely fill the void vacated by the warring owners and players and that will also serve a purpose that the major league brand of baseball never could. I am proposing the creation of the RFL, which stands for "Reg'lar Folks League." Now, this is not a haven for scabs -- those career bush leaguers and wannabes who don't deserve a shot at the majors unless the owners are desperate. No, those guys are too talented for what I have in mind.

I am calling for a league comprised of players who not only never paid professionally, but who didn't even play in high school. These would be guys who gave up after Little League or Babe Ruth League -- you know, what most of us do when we realize we've gone about as far as we can go playing baseball. They wouldn't be terrible -- at least not in the context of the subgroup of the population which fits this category -- as tryouts would see to that. Compared to the striking major leaguers, yes, they would be a grim nightmare. Compared to everybody else, though, they would be, well ... average.

And that's just the point! When you go to an RFL game, you would be seeing people just like you doing things about as well as you could. "Who would pay to see this?" you ask, your eyebrows raised in a display of incredulity. Why, you would, of course -- because then, when a pitcher isn't doing well and you trot out that old fan cliché, "I could hit this guy," well, in the case of an RFL pitcher, you probably could.

Ticket prices would be considerably lower because, let's face it, that's not going to be Alex Rodriguez at shortstop out there. No, it's going to be your milkman; and his keystone partner is going to be your podiatrist, taking a leave of absence from his practice until he realizes how much money he's losing.

My plans are preliminary at this point in time, but I have come up with the initial 10 franchises. They are:

The Reg'lar Folks League
Baltimore Average Joes
New York OKs
Detroit Usuals
Philadelphia Means
Boston Commons
Chicago Customaries
Seattle Normals
Los Angeles Typicals
Texas Regulars
St. Louis Middlings

(If you do not see your city on there, the ball is in your court: purchase a franchise from me at a nominal cost. This list is not set in stone as of press time.)

As a baseball fan, there are certain things you crave to complete your day. The RFL will provide them. For instance: