The syllogism goes something like this: you cannot put a price on great art. Munch's 'Scream' is great art. Carl Crawford has caused many to scream.
If you feel like the price of great art is on the downswing, you need only consider what the auction price of Edvard Munch's 110 year old pastel called "The Scream."
Nearly $120 million will bring its ownership to your living room. It costs about the same as the remainder of Carl Crawford's Red Sox contract. For that price you cannot even see Crawford in your living room because he isn't playing.
Carl Crawford is the one on the downswing.
At the end of seven years, Crawford will be gone (some think even sooner). Of course, Red Sox owner King John Henry VIII could have had a great work of art hanging in his living room and at the end of the seven years could sell it again.
He might even make a profit on it. Alas, Carl Crawford could be written off as a bad debt or tax deduction. The same feeling would have been achieved with the painting. In the final analysis, you end up with a scream of horror, shock, terror, or whatever emotion the grand art says to you.
One hundred years from now, "The Scream" may better state how people feel about life in general than today. In 100 years Carl Crawford will likely not even have many who will recognize his achievements.
Of course, some investments never repay what the original purchase cost, and Carl Crawford may have caused as much consternation already in screams than Munch's celebrated depiction.