The death of Marvin Miller this past week has caused me to reflect upon life. Including my own.

Mr. Miller was a labor leader generally credited with freeing Major League baseball players from lives of indentured servitude. In 1966, when his struggle to improve the lives of the downtrodden masses of hitters and spitters began, the average player’s salary was $19,000. Today, thanks largely to his efforts, it is $3 million.

The reason those numbers have caused me to become reflective is because 1966 was a watershed year in my life, too. That was the year, unfettered by any sort of reserve clause, I left a newspaper that paid me $4,420 a year and jumped to one that lured me away with a salary of $6,240. Today my salary is, well, several zeros short of $3 million.

That my income has not increased nearly as exponentially as the average cleat-wearer’s is, in no way, Mr. Miller’s fault. If there is blame, it would have to be attached to my parents, who insisted I should fritter away my time in school — learning rules of grammar and other stuff about which nobody cares anymore — instead of learning to hit split-finger knuckleballs.

And I don’t begrudge the players their money. Many of them are well into their mid-20s before they become millionaires. OK, I do begrudge them, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Not as long as there are team owners willing to pay hundreds of millions for salaries, television networks willing to pay billions for broadcast rights and fans willing to pay an average of $208 for a family of four at the old ballpark.

Besides, complaining about players’ salaries is nearly as traditional as the game itself. We’ve been doing it ever since the Yankees bumped Babe Ruth’s salary in 1930 to $80,000, which was $5,000 more than President Herbert Hoover’s. (In reply, Ruth famously noted that he’d had a better year than Hoover).

And there is the inflation factor, which I rediscovered recently when I checked the prices of a popular Broadway play and found I could buy a ticket for $3,000.

So this is not meant to belittle Marvin Miller’s contribution to the well-being of mankind.

Still, when an average 25-year old shortstop makes $3 million and a teacher who has taught for 25 years makes an average of $67,000, the word “priorities” does come to mind.

And when a relief pitcher who may save a victory for your favorite team makes $3 million and a registered nurse who may save your life makes an average of $39,475, you can’t help being just a little bit reflective.