Is Parity Really What We Want in Sports? Didn’t Think So.

There’s a lot of talk about parity in sports. We’re always clamoring for more parity, trying to spread talent out over the entire league to make it an even playing field for everyone.

Not me. I’m done with parity.

Parity is the equality, the balance in the league. When there’s parity, any team has a shot at winning it all because they’re all pretty even talent-wise. When there’s not, the power lies in the hands of a few and the same teams win year after year.

And you know what? I’ve decided that’s what I like. I like dynasties. I want to see the Los Angeles Lakers and the Cleveland Cavaliers face off in this year’s NBA Finals, Kobe Bryant vs. LeBron James, and I’m quite certain I’m not the only one.

The reign of the New England Patriots and Indianapolis Colts in the AFC is starting to give way, but it was a great run. The San Francisco 49ers’ sovereignty in the late 80′s was replaced by the Dallas Cowboys’ in the 90′s, and the rivalry between the two shaped my childhood.

Quite frankly, a lack of parity makes games I want to watch.

The NBA and NFL don’t disappoint. The right teams make the playoffs every year, and it’s exciting. It gives the game some continuity between years. As much as I dislike the Lakers, I don’t have any desire to see them have a .500 season this year.

Nobody outside of Denver was upset to see the Lakers make the NBA Finals this year—but in the East, it was a letdown to not see the Cavaliers or the Boston Celtics fit the other half of that bill. Even with the massive (literally) star power of Dwight Howard and the Orlando Magic, I have to expect that the ratings would have been higher if the Cavs or Celtics—who had both been in the Finals within the last two seasons—had advanced instead.

I’ll even make the argument that the complete lack of parity is what makes both college football and basketball exciting.

The essence is upsets. As much as we all enjoy close games between equally matched opponents, the upsets are what we remember. Throughout March Madness or the entire college football season, everyone is on watch for great upsets—like George Mason in the Final Four, Appalachian State taking down Michigan, or Boise State toppling Adrian Peterson and Oklahoma in the Fiesta Bowl.

Upsets, by definition, require a lack of parity. One team is heavily-favored—they’ve got the highly-recruited talent, the well-compensated coach, and the world-class facilities. The underdog runs entirely on adrenaline and, at the risk of drowning in a sea of cliché, “heart”.

Both college football and basketball have over 100 teams in Division I-A (FBS in football), and the entire spectrum of talent is covered, from the most struggling teams to long-term top dogs Florida and Texas—or Duke and North Carolina in basketball. And if the Gators or Longhorns fall to a much-lesser opponent, it’ll be one of the most talked-about games of the year.

Major League Baseball, on the other hand, defies all the odds and shows more signs of parity than in either professional basketball or football.

The NBA and NFL both have salary caps. The idea is that by balancing payrolls, they’ll be balancing talent in the league—the caps are there to prevent any one team with a wealthy owner from buying all the best players in the league, and winning every year.

That’s exactly what happens in baseball, however—strangely, minus the winning.

The Yankees are famous for treating the rest of MLB as their own farm club, picking off all best players when they’ve reached their prime. The Yankees’ payroll this year is $208 million, more than $50 million higher than the second-highest, the New York Mets at $145 million.

Alex Rodriguez, the Yankees’ crown jewel, is making $33 million this year—more than the entire Pittsburgh Pirates roster combined, which totals $25 million. Fellow Yankees Derek Jeter and Mark Texeira are close as well, making almost $22 million and $21 million respectively.

That should be enough, especially with bringing in new talent ever year, to build a dynasty. But like I said, it doesn’t necessarily translate into World Series titles.

In the past 30 years, 20 different teams have won the World Series. In that same time period, only 14 different NFL teams have won the Super Bowl, and nine different NBA teams have been crowned champion.

Now, championships clearly aren’t the only, or best, indicator of parity. Many point to the best-of-5 Division Series in baseball as creating the illusion of parity—since it only takes three games to win and advance, there’s a better chance of a less-talented team getting lucky and winning. That argument breaks down, however, when you consider the NFL’s one-game-per-round playoffs and their more-consistent winners.

But let’s be honest. If you live in New York, LA, or Boston, you probably like dynasties. Because you have them. If you live anywhere else, you could probably go for a little parity.

(And before you object, the Cavaliers don’t count as a small-market team. While Cleveland may be a relatively small market, LeBron is a market unto himself. He’s much bigger than Cleveland.)

Having never lived in Milwaukee or Minnesota or some of these smaller markets with professional teams, I can’t really say. But I’ve gotten my own taste of the frustration, as my college alma mater plays in a mid-major conference and even in its best years finds itself secondary to college football’s BCS dynasties.

But all the same, I’ll take it. Give me dynasties, even if it only gives me someone to root against.

I can’t wait to see who has a shot at squeezing the Lakers out of the NBA Finals this year, or which Eastern Conference powerhouse is going to emerge victorious this time. The bulletproof New England Patriots, with male-model-meets-Superman quarterback Tom Brady, already have a loss this year—which wouldn’t mean anything outside the context of their league dominance since 2002 or so.

So if you’re looking for parity, go ahead and thrill yourself with all the teams that fall right in the middle of the league—those that conform to the mean.

But I’ll be watching the good games.