Marlins' spending doesn't make sense

DALLAS

Here at the Hilton Anatole, we're seeing a real-life rendition of the film "Freaky Friday." Only instead of a mother and daughter switching bodies, it's the Mets and Marlins.

Or, to summarize the opinions of most industry people at the baseball winter meetings, who are these drunken sailors identifying themselves as the Miami Marlins, and what have they done with the cheapskate Florida Marlins?

As the meetings crept into Tuesday night, most industry folks believed that Albert Pujols, arguably the game's best player of the past 10 years, was very close to deciding between a 10-year offer (for a reported $220 million) from the upstart Marlins and a lesser offer from the Cardinals, the only club for which Pujols has played.

The reaction, to be polite, has been extremely negative, with questions surfacing about how the Marlins could take such immense risks and where exactly they were getting all of this money. One official from another club, trying to find the silver lining, postulated that the nine-figure acquisitions of both Pujols and Jose Reyes would serve as a hedge against an attendance depreciation in their new ballpark in, say, 2014 and 2015.

In all, though, no, it doesn't make a great deal of sense.

Pujols is an old 31, with thousands of miles on the odometer. He's coming off the worst season of his professional career. Granted, most ordinary players would kill for such a campaign -- a .366 on-base percentage and .541 slugging percentage in 651 plate appearances -- but Miami would bring him aboard wondering whether 2011 indicated a trend or just an aberration.

Maybe not wondering, though, or just not caring. Marlins owner Jeffrey Loria, about as hands-on with his ballclub as George Steinbrenner was in his Yankees heyday, has been adamant about opening his new ballpark with a bang. Reyes' and Pujols' Hispanic heritage served as value-adds to the Marlins, who are hoping to better connect with Miami's Latino market.

The Marlins' spending was so limited in recent years that Major League Baseball felt compelled to issue a statement in 2010 that the club's expenditures would be monitored. Now, Bud Selig likely is pulling his hair out as he watches the Marlins try to sign off on what looks like a potentially huge albatross down the road.

The Cardinals? The defending World Series champions badly want Pujols to come back. They appreciate what he has meant and would continue to mean to the franchise. They tried to re-sign him in spring training and failed to do so, and the Pujols negotiations are holding up most of the other business they want to transact.

Ultimately, though, St. Louis has its limits, both financial and philosophical. The Cardinals can generate only so much revenue thanks to their small-market television contract, and general manager John Mozeliak -- who, for what it's worth, doesn't have much of a personal relationship with Pujols -- is recognized as someone who will stick to his guns. The same goes for the team's owner, Bill DeWitt Jr.

The Cardinals will operate with some common sense. These new Marlins have yet to exhibit that quality.

Which reminds us of the old Mets, who threw money at every problem and overvalued the short-term high of "winning the offseason." For whatever you want to say about the stripped-down National League operation in New York -- and there's plenty -- at least they're not stupefying us with silly investments.

Maybe Pujols (if he signs), Reyes and new closer Heath Bell will lead the Marlins to great heights before the decline phases kick in. Maybe two or three years from now, Loria and his charges will be mocking those who doubted them.

In the meantime, baseball's perennial invisible club has achieved one goal. For once, everyone is talking about the Marlins.