Analysis: What this World Series matchup should tell us about MLB’s future

The noise inside Rogers Centre was deafening, an entire fan base – no, country – going bonkers after George Springer’s three-run, go-ahead homer in Game 7 of the American League Championship Series on Monday, the volume knob somewhere past 11.

It was awesome.

And instructive.

For as much as there’s a story here about Springer, about his redemptive year in Toronto and .930 regular-season OPS, about the Blue Jays returning to the World Series for the first time since 1993, about Seattle’s Cinderella season falling painfully short, Mariners manager Dan Wilson’s pitching decision or the countless ingredients that make baseball great … it’s not that simple.

That’s because there are multiple related elephants in the room: the $500 million Dodgers waiting around the corner, as well as Major League Baseball’s widening competitive divide, where big spenders in big cities have a chance and everyone else … well, better luck next year.

Think it’s some sort of phony, small-market narrative? Look at the numbers:

• Over the past 20 World Series, 28 of the 40 entrants (70%) have been from the top half of MLB, per the sport’s own revenue-sharing market score.

• Using that same system – cited in the current collective bargaining agreement – the average market score for a winner over the past decade is 9.3.

• Lastly, teams in the bottom third of revenue sharing market score have been to the World Series just six times in the past 20 years, with two (’15 Royals and ’06 Cardinals) winning.

“I think it’s undeniable that we have fans in markets who believe they don’t have a fair opportunity to compete,” MLB commissioner Rob Manfred said this summer on ESPN. “You can blame the owner. It’s the system that produces that.

“At the end of the day, what we sell is competition. Anything that undermines competition, sooner or later, we’re going to have to come to grips with that issue, 100%.”

There’s no time like the present, huh? Or, let’s rephrase that: after the current CBA expires in December 2026.

Anybody who watches baseball, who cares about baseball, knows there’s a problem here.

The Dodgers, when you factor in luxury-tax penalties, will pay $508.3 million for their 2025 roster. That’s nearly as much as the bottom-six payrolls (Marlins, Athletics, Rays, White Sox, Pirates and Guardians) combined.

Furthermore, Los Angeles will pay more in penalties than 16 teams did for their entire roster, and it’s erroneously allowed, the same for teams on the other end of the payroll spectrum who should be forced to meet some sort of floor.

Speaking of that, it’s not like the Blue Jays represent some sort of small-market success story; their opening day payroll has been fifth, sixth and seventh the past three seasons, including a $240 million price tag this season.

It’s laughable, honestly, although we can agree with Manfred on at least one thing: It’s the system’s fault.

There’s an obvious correlation between market size and payroll, and it’s often TV deals that make it all work. For the Dodgers, that means roughly $334 million annually – or $144 million more than the Yankees and $300 million or above what the Pirates make.

The fact that MLB has been so top-heavy should surprise no one considering the lack of guardrails in place, the most obvious a cap-and-floor system that will almost assuredly cause a lockout next December.

The NFL gets it and divides TV revenue evenly among its 32 teams. The result – go figure – is better competitive balance or parity, heightened by the cost certainty available with a salary cap and resulting in the 180-degree opposite of what Manfred referenced this summer.

Fans in most NFL cities feel their team has a chance within about a two-year window.

It’s markedly different in MLB, where things like the Brewers winning five NL Central titles in eight years feel more like lipstick on a pig, the result of big spenders de-emphasizing the regular season because 12 teams reach the playoffs.

The competitive disparity and predictable domination of the rich teams long ago knocked baseball from its perch atop the American sports landscape.

Need evidence? Just look at who will be watching the World Series. Or, more appropriately, who won’t be tuning in.

Examining a 21-year stretch from 1973-1993, the average rating was 21/2 times higher (20.4) than it has been since 2008, 17 years with an average rating of 8.3.

In terms of average viewership, the World Series audience has almost – and scarily – been sliced in half, starting at 27.8 million in the previous sample and falling to 14.5 million over the second one.

All of it seems to say a simple thing: The sport needs real parity, without the super-spenders and big markets controlling everything. In essence, recognizing how football has become our national past … er, current time.

It’s certainly not to diminish anything we saw on Monday.

Springer has an amazing story to tell, gutting it out after stopping a 96-mph fastball with his right knee Friday. We’ve seen Vladimir Guerrero Jr.’s dominance, Shane Bieber’s return from Tommy John surgery and the Blue Jays echo the heartbeat of Canada.

Incredible, every ounce.

It’s also hard to not be entertained by Shohei Ohtani’s greatest game ever played or the splendid pitching the Dodgers have gotten from Blake Snell, Ohtani, Tyler Glasnow and Yoshinobu Yamamoto.

But if anyone here thinks a short-term entertainment hit will fix a long-term problem, they’re either wrong, in a big market … or probably both.

Last year, it became a story when Game 3 of the World Series outdrew Giants-Steelers on “Monday Night Football” by an average of 200,000 viewers. Some celebrated, but it sadly demonstrated how far baseball has fallen from the mainstream.

There will always be a current audience due to the excitement of good playoff baseball, another example coming Monday. But if you step back – and let’s hope the sport does – there’s a far higher ceiling available if it involves everyone.