SCOTTSDALE, Ariz. — As the new leader of the baseball players union, Michael Weiner steps into a position of power and influence. The perks aren't bad either.

Weiner's salary isn't known, but it is more than it had to be.

Had the players wanted, they probably could have paid him in sneakers, World Series tickets and vintage Bruce Springsteen tour T-shirts. He's that kind of a guy.

Before Game 6 of the World Series, Weiner tried to work a regular shift in the union's office on East 49th Street in New York.

He was dressed in his normal office wear — heavily worn blue jeans, long-sleeve shirt (tail out) and Converse sneakers — and discussed developments of the day with staff between phone calls from players and agents. But he was easily distracted as he tried to coordinate transportation to Yankee Stadium for those in his party. His wry smile gave away his delight.

"I've always been a baseball fan," Weiner said. "When I started this job in '88, a number of people said: 'Before long, you won't be a baseball fan anymore. You'll know too much about it.' It's been just the opposite.

"Getting to know the players, the managers, general managers, commissioner's office people, everybody who works around the game, gives you a greater appreciation for it. If there's a World Series game in New York, and I'm going with my family and close friends, who wouldn't be jacked up to do that?"

Only a few ways would improve the experience for Weiner, 47, a New Jersey native raised on Ron Guidry, Catfish Hunter, Mickey Rivers and Reggie Jackson. One would have Springsteen singing the national anthem after a version of the mini-concert he staged for halftime of the Super Bowl. Another would be to make it Chuck Taylor giveaway day.

Rob Manfred, Major League Baseball's top labor negotiator, graduated from Harvard Law School in 1983, just before Weiner began. They've had a cast of mutual friends and acquaintances ever since, sometimes leaving Manfred with inside information on his friend across the bargaining table.

Normally tight-lipped, Manfred passed along a rumor that Weiner once hoarded his beloved canvas-and-rubber basketball shoes.

"I guess the answer is yes, in a sense," Weiner said recently, seated in a hotel conference room during the union's board meeting. "When there were talks about Converse stopping production of them, I got a gift from my wife and (three) daughters for Hanukkah. I came home one day and there was a pyramid of Chuck Taylor boxes. That's one of the best gifts I've ever received, although I'm pleased to say that Converse still makes them."

Weiner won't say how many times he saw Springsteen on his relentless tours in 2008 and '09, admitting only to more than a few pilgrimages to the Meadowlands and other venues. The music business having no DH rule, he says he frets about the future of the E Street Band, which — with Clarence Clemons' saxophone and Steve Van Zandt's guitar — rocked him into adulthood and hasn't stopped.

"I like a lot of other music too," Weiner said. "But I'm a kid who grew up in New Jersey in the '70s. That's a pretty good link to Bruce Springsteen."

Weiner, like the Asbury Park icon, uses his personal scruffiness to keep his brilliance in reserve: It's there when he needs it but not worn on his sleeve. He's usually the smartest guy in the room but also is a consensus builder and confidant.

The union, so often at odds with ownership throughout the 42 years it has bargained with management, has leaned on Weiner to build a bridge to Commissioner Bud Selig's office since the strike that wiped out the 1994 playoffs and threatened the '95 season. He and another longtime lieutenant, Steve Fehr, were the union reps in the room when a deal was struck in 2002, hours before a strike deadline. Weiner again played a leading role in a successful negotiation in '06.

Curtis Granderson, the newly acquired New York Yankees center fielder, says Weiner was an "obvious choice" to replace Donald Fehr, who retired after 24 years in charge of the Major League Baseball Players Association, a position he inherited from Marvin Miller.

Like Selig, Fehr did not do his best work behind the podium. His multisyllabic oratories were often difficult to understand and left listeners gasping for air. Baseball owners loved it when Congress turned the tables on him in drug-testing hearings in recent years.

In an interview with USA Today, Fehr lamented that he never was able to get widespread understanding of the union stance on steroids "because it takes more than 11 seconds to explain our position."

Weiner works to make himself as accessible as possible, especially to the players he represents.

"I remember the first time I was in a major league camp and the union came on its spring training visit," Granderson said. "I had seen Don Fehr on TV, so I knew who he was. But I didn't know who the curly-haired guy was beside him. That was Michael.

"It was easier to talk to him because I wasn't intimidated by him. He's accessible, but it's not that Don was any less accessible. It was just that you felt comfortable with Michael."

Pitcher Tom Glavine praises Weiner's communication skills.

"Michael has the ability to break things down to the players," Glavine told the Associated Press. "He speaks English. He doesn't speak lawyer talk."

Fehr and Gene Orza, both hired by Miller in the union's formative years, helped drive the negotiations that established the twin engines of free agency and salary arbitration, which have taken baseball's average salary to $3.2 million. They carry scar tissue from a series of labor wars, including ones in 1981 and 1994-95 that the union viewed as essential to its survival.

Weiner represents a new chapter.

"Mike is a very zealous advocate for the players' interest," Manfred said. "He does a great job representing the players. But at the same time, Mike is a very personable guy. He is a very good listener.

"What we've seen through the years is that Mike understands the importance of sometimes making a compromise so the players and the teams can move forward in a partnership."

Fehr timed his departure so that Weiner could craft the players' goals and strategy for the next round of labor talks, set to begin during the 2011 season. Weiner says it is too early to know what direction those talks will take.

He indicated he will push management to extend the division series to a best-of-seven format. He says the union will not oppose a worldwide draft, if the owners again propose one, but warns that the union will fight a firm slotting system in the amateur draft.

Weiner isn't likely to endorse expanding the testing for performance-enhancing drugs to include blood tests, even if it would provide a way to test for human growth hormone and other substances that can't be detected by urinalysis. He will react cautiously if Manfred proposes major changes in the complex revenue-sharing and payroll-tax formulas.

Weiner credits the improved climate in the last two negotiations to management ending its attempts to break the union. He says the 232-day strike in 1994-95, ended in part by a court order from future Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor, produced "a recognition that the union is a fixture in the game."

There's little that Weiner doesn't understand. Perhaps best of all, he appreciates the legacy he has inherited from Miller and Fehr.

Lockouts in the NBA and NHL produced major concessions from those unions in the last decade, and a major bargaining confrontation is brewing between the NFL and its union. How long can baseball maintain its newfound labor peace?

"It may very well be the owners have been emboldened by what happens in other sports," Weiner said. "I would hope that the respect this union has been shown by owners (in the last two negotiations) would continue into bargaining in '11. If there are owners who misjudge or underestimate the resolve of the players this time, they'll be met with the same surprise that owners of the past have met with when they misjudged the resolve of the players."

New leader, same union. As is generally the case when dealing with Weiner, the message could not have been clearer.