How We Got Free Agents in Baseball

In 1969, Curt Flood—the best center fielder in baseball and a three-time World Series participant with the St. Louis Cardinals—was traded to the Philadelphia Phillies against his will. He refused to go, arguing that baseball's "reserve clause," which bound players to their teams in perpetuity, violated basic principles of free labor. His lawsuit against Major League Baseball went all the way to the Supreme Court, destroyed his career, and ultimately helped transform professional sports forever. This episode of Planet Money, hosted by Jacob Goldstein, Robert Smith, and Keith Romer, tells Flood's story as a case study in monopsony, antitrust law, and the moment Americans stopped thinking of professional sports as a game and started seeing it as a business.

0:00The 4 AM Phone Call That Changed Baseball

On October 8, 1969, at 4:00 AM, Curt Flood was woken by a phone call from a middle manager in the Cardinals front office. He was told he had just been traded to the Philadelphia Phillies. Flood was 31 years old and had spent 12 years—virtually his entire adult life—playing center field for St. Louis. He was an All-Star, had led the Cardinals to three World Series appearances, and *Sports Illustrated* had called him the best center fielder in baseball. He planned to finish his career in St. Louis.

Flood did not want to go to Philadelphia. The Phillies had finished second-to-last in their division. But there was a deeper reason: Flood was Black, and Phillies fans had a notorious history of racist abuse toward the team's Black players. One Black Phillies player in the 1960s had worn a helmet in the outfield because fans threw batteries at his head.

Under baseball's rules at the time, Flood had no real choice. When a player was drafted by a major league team, he played for that team. If they traded him, he went where they sent him. If he didn't like it, he could quit baseball. This was explicit in every player's contract, codified in what was called the "reserve clause"—teams reserved the rights to each player indefinitely. Flood thought this was not just ridiculous but illegal. He decided to sue Major League Baseball for the right that most workers take for granted: the right to work for whatever employer might want to hire him.

5:02The Economics of the Reserve Clause: Monopsony in Action

At the time of his trade, Curt Flood was one of the highest-paid players in baseball, earning $90,000 per year. Adjusted for inflation, that is roughly $800,000 today—a substantial salary for an ordinary worker, but about 30 times less than what a star baseball player would make today. The hosts explain that part of this gap is due to baseball being a smaller, less lucrative business in 1969. But the central reason is that players had almost no leverage because of the reserve clause.

The hosts introduce a key economic concept: monopsony, the lesser-known cousin of monopoly. In a monopoly, there is one seller who can charge high prices. In a monopsony, there is only one buyer—often applied to job markets, like a company town with a single employer. The reserve clause created a classic monopsony: the only buyer for Curt Flood's labor was the St. Louis Cardinals. He had to take whatever they offered, or accept whatever trade they arranged.

To make the absurdity concrete, the hosts offer a thought experiment: imagine if every year, Google and Apple drafted computer science graduates from Stanford, Carnegie Mellon, and MIT. If you were drafted, you had to work for that company forever, until they fired you or traded you to another tech company—in which case you had to work there or stop being a computer engineer. Employees would have no bargaining power and would be dramatically underpaid. This would be flagrantly illegal. In fact, around 2010, Google, Apple, and other tech companies were caught in a scandal involving secret "no-poaching" agreements not to recruit each other's employees. That was far less restrictive than the reserve clause, and the companies had to pay hundreds of millions of dollars in penalties.

8:00The Long Odds and the Civil Rights Context

When Flood considered suing baseball, he consulted the head of the players' union, which had only recently become a full-fledged labor union. The union head told him that similar court cases in past decades had all been lost by players. He gave Flood the bottom line: his case was a million-to-one shot. Even if he won, he wouldn't get damages because he was already making a huge salary for the time. And if he brought the case, his career as a player would be over—no team would hire the man who sued baseball, not even as a manager or in any other capacity.

Flood had already endured a great deal. Coming up through the minor leagues in the 1950s, he played in North Carolina and Georgia, facing constant racist heckling from fans. On one occasion, his own team's trainer pulled Flood's dirty uniform out of the laundry with a stick because it had been mixed with white teammates' uniforms, and sent it to a Black laundry ten miles away. As Flood weighed whether to sue, race was clearly part of the dynamic in his mind: all the owners were white, and more and more players were Black.

After the union head explained the likely consequences, Flood asked: if I do win, will it help other players in the future? The union head said yes. Flood replied: "That's good enough for me. Let's do it."

11:05The Legal Strategy: Court of Law and Court of Public Opinion

To find a lawyer willing to take a million-to-one case, the union turned to Arthur Goldberg, a former Supreme Court justice who had stepped down to become U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations. Goldberg agreed to take the case if the union covered his expenses.

Goldberg and Flood devised a two-front strategy. They would fight not just in court but also in what journalists call "the court of public opinion." Their first move was not to file a lawsuit but to send a letter to the commissioner of baseball, Bowie Kuhn, in 1969. The letter's language deliberately invoked the civil rights movement. Flood wrote: "After 12 years in the major leagues, I do not feel that I am a piece of property to be bought and sold irrespective of my wishes. I believe that any system which produces that result violates my basic rights as a citizen." He requested that Kuhn inform all major league clubs of his availability for the 1970 season.

A week later, Kuhn called Flood at home and read his response. Kuhn agreed that Flood was not a piece of property to be bought and sold—"This is fundamental in our society and, I think obvious"—but argued that this principle did not apply to the situation, since Flood had entered into a playing contract. He refused Flood's request.

Flood then gave an interview with famed sportscaster Howard Cosell, who asked a version of what many commentators were saying: you say you're not property to be bought and sold, but you're getting rich playing baseball. How can you compare yourself to somebody who's enslaved? Flood replied with what became his most famous line: "A well-paid slave is nonetheless a slave." (A biography of Flood by Brad Snyder is titled *Well Paid Slave*.)

There was also a subtler argument against Flood's case: if the reserve clause disappeared, the richest teams would buy the best players and win all the time, destroying competitive balance and the league itself. A poll at the time found that 69% of people thought the reserve clause was necessary for baseball. Flood was losing in the court of public opinion.

14:49Jackie Robinson Testifies

When Flood's case went to trial in Manhattan in 1970, his lawyers needed a compelling witness to shift public opinion. No active player would testify—they were too scared. But Jackie Robinson agreed. Flood's hero, the first Black man to play in the major leagues, was then 51 years old, retired, and going blind.

On the stand, Flood's lawyer asked Robinson about the reserve clause. Robinson said: "Anything that is one-sided in this country is wrong. And I think the reserve clause is a one-sided thing in favor of the owners. And I think it certainly should be at least modified to give a player an opportunity to have some control over his destiny." Robinson's testimony was fundamentally similar to Flood's argument but framed more moderately. As a national hero, he commanded attention. The judge even asked Robinson for an autograph for his grandson. News coverage became warmer toward Flood's position.

But the judge cared about legal precedent, not public sentiment. The Supreme Court had repeatedly upheld the reserve clause. The judge ruled against Flood and in favor of Major League Baseball. Flood's lawyer declared this "only the end of the first inning." Flood appealed, lost on appeal, and appealed again. The Supreme Court agreed to hear the case.

19:14The Supreme Court Showdown

Oral arguments in *Curtis C. Flood v. Bowie K. Kuhn, Commissioner of Baseball, et al.* took place on March 20, 1972. The courtroom was packed, the press box overflowing. But Curt Flood was not there. By this point, he was living in Majorca, a Spanish island in the Mediterranean, working part-time as an English-language sports announcer and part-time at a bar. He was drinking heavily and having a very difficult time. A few years earlier he had been an All-Star; now it seemed like everyone in America was angry at him for shaking up baseball.

Flood's lawyer argued before the Supreme Court that the reserve clause was "a group boycott and a blacklist"—literally a bunch of businesses agreeing not to hire a particular person. He called it "the most obvious restraint of trade known to man." The phrase "restraint of trade" is central to American antitrust law, dating back nearly as far as baseball itself. Flood's lawyer then delivered a line designed for broader appeal: "Free American workers determine their own destiny. This fundamentally is what Curt Flood wants to be. A free American worker determining his own destiny."

The lawyers for Bowie Kuhn and the owners made their case. They argued that a truly free market in players' labor could lead to one team buying all the best players and winning every game, making baseball boring and destroying the league as a business. They pointed out that courts had previously ruled baseball exempt from antitrust laws. And they made a new, important argument: the players' union had recently negotiated its first collective bargaining agreement, which included the reserve clause. The league's lawyer argued that if players didn't like the clause, they should negotiate a different deal through their union, not file a lawsuit.

A few months later, the Supreme Court issued its ruling. The justices noted that Congress had frequently considered applying antitrust law to baseball but had never passed such legislation. In the Court's view, this inaction proved that Congress did not want antitrust law to apply to professional baseball. The opinion stated: "If there is any inconsistency or illogic in all of this, it is an inconsistency and illogic of long standing that is to be remedied by the Congress and not by this court." The reserve clause remained in place. Curt Flood lost.

23:44The Aftermath: How Free Agency Actually Happened

Although Flood lost in court, he had won in the court of public opinion. Over the course of the case—from the late 1960s into the early 1970s—public sentiment shifted dramatically. People began to see baseball players not as grown men playing a boy's game but as workers. And when you think of baseball players as workers, the reserve clause becomes ridiculous—you want the freedom to work for any employer you choose.

After the verdict, newspapers across the country ran editorials condemning the decision. The *New York Times* wrote that "the highest court in the land is still averting its gaze from a system in American business that gives the employer outright ownership of his employees." A new poll found that by an overwhelming margin, the public now supported Curt Flood and the players.

The players saw this shift and took action. A few decided to test what the reserve clause actually meant. The clause stated that if a player refused to sign a new contract, "the club shall have the right to renew the contract for the period of one year." For decades, this had been interpreted to mean the team could renew forever—always another year. But a different reading was possible: perhaps the team's right to renew lasted for exactly one year, after which the player could go to any team that would hire him.

In 1975, two players decided to test this interpretation. They refused to sign new contracts, played for one year without a contract, and then went before an arbitrator. The arbitrator ruled in favor of the players: after one year, they were free to sign with any team. They did, and got paid much more money.

Around the same time, the players' union was negotiating its overarching contract with the owners. Armed with the arbitration ruling and public opinion on their side, the players had strong leverage. The owners agreed to eliminate the reserve clause—though the new contract allowed players to become free agents only after six years in the major leagues. Teams got several years of exclusivity from the players they drafted and developed, but players could look forward to free agency after putting in their time.

Similar changes happened in other sports. In 1976, two separate cases made it easier for NBA and NFL players to become free agents (though NFL free agency remained quite limited until the 1990s).

28:35The Economic Impact: How the Pie Got Redivided

The shift from the reserve clause to free agency fundamentally changed how revenue is split between owners and players. In the early 1970s, when Flood brought his case, less than a quarter of team revenue went to players. Today, roughly half of all revenue goes to player salaries. The players' share of the pie has essentially doubled—a remarkable change in economic terms.

The hosts note that in recent years, the potential downside that owners warned about has partly come to pass. The Los Angeles Dodgers have far and away the highest payroll in baseball, famously paying Shohei Ohtani $70 million per year (most of it deferred). They have won the World Series two years in a row. There is a reasonable argument that they are simply buying championships.

However, the hosts point out that this outcome is not inevitable. In the NFL and NBA, about half of all revenue also goes to player salaries, similar to baseball. But those leagues have salary caps—a total amount each team can pay all its players. This means players can get a larger share of the pie without allowing one team to buy its way to victory. The current baseball players' union contract is up for renewal at the end of the year, and the owners want a salary cap. The players do not. The hosts note that a salary cap does not necessarily mean a smaller share of revenue for players, but the battle lines are drawn.

30:55Curt Flood's Final Chapter

When last heard from in 1972, Flood was working at a bar in Majorca and drinking heavily. He eventually got sober, moved back to the United States, and became recognized for what he had done for baseball and for all of professional sports. His last big moment came in 1994. Baseball players were on strike, there were accusations that teams were colluding to suppress free-agent pay, the strike was dragging on, and the World Series had been canceled. Public opinion was shifting against the players, and some considered calling off the strike.

The players called in Flood to give a pep talk. He stood before a room full of major league players and told them to stand their ground. "I fought so you could be where you are today," he said. "Don't let the owners put the genie back into the bottle." When he finished, the players stood and applauded.

Conclusion

This episode matters because it tells the story of how a single player's willingness to sacrifice his career changed the economic structure of professional sports forever. Curt Flood lost his case, lost his livelihood, and spent years in exile and alcoholism—but his fight shifted public opinion, emboldened the players' union, and ultimately led to the end of the reserve clause. The episode reframes a familiar sports story as a fundamental labor economics case: a monopsony was broken, and the share of revenue going to workers doubled. It also leaves the listener with an unresolved tension: free agency gave players more power and money, but it also created the conditions for dynasties like the Dodgers, and the battle over salary caps continues today.

Key takeaways

• The reserve clause created a monopsony in baseball, where only one team could buy a player's labor, suppressing salaries dramatically.
• Curt Flood's 1969 lawsuit against Major League Baseball went to the Supreme Court, where he lost, but his fight shifted public opinion and inspired later action.
• Jackie Robinson's testimony at trial was a pivotal moment that helped change public perception of the reserve clause.
• In 1975, an arbitrator ruled that the reserve clause only bound players for one year after their contract expired, effectively ending the system.
• The players' union then negotiated free agency into the collective bargaining agreement, though players could only become free agents after six years.
• The share of team revenue going to players roughly doubled after the end of the reserve clause, from under 25% to about 50%.
• Modern concerns about teams like the Dodgers "buying championships" echo the owners' original arguments, but salary caps in other leagues show it is possible to give players a large share of revenue while maintaining competitive balance.