As the player representative for the Cincinnati Reds, I had a front-row seat to the work stoppage of 1994. I participated in the vote that forever changed the way fans view Major League Baseball and the men who play the game. I hoped baseball would never face this situation again.

I wish I could explain what went wrong, but to this day I'm still not sure how it got to that point of no return.

On Aug. 12, 1994, I polled my teammates in what was a unanimous vote to go on strike. We stood as a united front -- there was no shred of doubt. Not one of us believed the owners would call our bluff.

Not one of us fathomed that commissioner Bud Selig would cancel the World Series for the first time in history. No one thought we'd go until the following spring training before resuming play.

I began that year with season-ending surgery. So there I was, in the midst of the worst season of my career, on the verge of becoming a free agent, and now I was voting to end everyone else's season as well.

I wish I could explain what went wrong, but to this day I'm still not sure how it got to that point of no return. The situation is still difficult to explain to those not directly involved. But however you look at it, the end result was stabbing the sport we love in the heart.

No one wins in labor stoppages. Financially, both sides lost an estimated $1 billion. But what's worse is we lost the respect of our fans. That's not something players take lightly. We know our fans are what make us great. We know that our fans support us through rain and shine and we appreciate the boo-hissing and name-calling as much as the applause.

In defense of the players, they have a right, just like any union, to fight for what they feel are fair wages and benefits. And there is so much more to the negotiations than just the players at the table. When you're negotiating a new agreement there are other things to consider besides player salaries: insurance and pension are some of the biggest issues. Today's players need to take care of those who came before them.

Players, like everyone else, hope their employers will negotiate in good faith. To me, good faith means the two parties sit down at a table and hammer out a fair and reasonable agreement. But as long as owners continue to underestimate players' intelligence, that won't happen.

I pray every night that baseball has learned from the 1994 season.

Owners have never taken the players seriously. Many owners mistake athletes for stereotypical dumb jocks who don't understand the business aspect of the game.

News flash, guys: players can think off the field as well as on. Many players are highly educated, yet the men in suits continue to see them as dumb jocks. I just can't figure that out.

Although it may seem like I'm defending my own, I'm not. I pray every night that baseball has learned from the 1994 season. From what I see, the players are holding their own.

Players Association representative Donald Fehr loves baseball more than just about anyone I know. I'm sure the last thing he wants is another work stoppage. But Fehr, like the players, takes his job very seriously and will do his best to represent the cause. Just like the owners, players know that the secret to winning is hiring the best.