Hard labor.

• Author: Schley, Stewart
• Position: Sports Biz

ECONOMISTS GENERALLY BELIEVE THE U.S. LABOR movement reached the peak of its collective power in the 1960s, when union membership was at an all-time high and corporate titans bowed to the might of organized workers.

Unions still remain alive and well across industries like telecommunications and the automotive sectors, but with union ranks slipping to about 12 percent of U.S. workers, the power once possessed by union bosses has eroded.

There is one industry, however, that still comes to mind as ruled by its unions.

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It involves Gatorade and scoreboards.

Now, you might regard the economic coddling of multi-million-dollar athletes with no more levity than you'd accord a puddle of Shaquille O'Neal's sweat. Or, on the contrary, you might be a diehard union champion who is convinced modern sports would not exist but for the labor exerted by athletes.

If you're the former, you think the owners ought to pocket the big bucks and enjoy a capitalist's right to cut a running back mid-season without pay just because the guy missed a block. If you're the latter, you probably support public team ownership and free tickets for underprivileged point guards.

As for me, I subscribe to the sage guidance uttered years ago by a guy named Neal who used to harangue local sports talk-show hosts: "What do I care who gets the money?" he would bark. "It's not mine." Exactly.

But that's easy for me, or for Neal, to say.

We're not E. Stanley Kroenke, the guy who has staked a small fortune on a local sports empire whose most valuable bookends are franchises belonging to the National Hockey League and the National Basketball Association. Both organizations are defined by labor. And both appear to be in deep muck right now because of disagreements with their workers. It's entirely possible--maybe not likely, but possible--that neither Kroenke's Denver Nuggets nor his Colorado Avalanche will play games this fall.

That means an empty Pepsi Center. That means flat beer sales over at Brooklyn's. That means a big income hit to arena vendors. And that means real bleeding for Kroenke Sports Enterprises.

The commoner's reaction to the notion of financial distress for a man like Stan is a loud and heartfelt, "phhhssssst."

Guy's worth a billion plus, right?

Put the losses on your credit card and suck it up, pal.

But not so fast. I'm lucky enough to have known a mogul or two. My experience generally is that captains of industry who have made fortunes from...