MILWAUKEE — Although Milwaukee isn't necessarily viewed outside Bud Selig's office as last-straw territory for pro-sports reform, this was rookie Waterloo in 1994.

After a holdout during which his camp floated the magic $100 million trial balloon, No. 1 draft pick Glenn Robinson received from the Bucks a 10-year, $68 million deal, the largest rookie contract in NBA history.

And that was that. After years of complaining by veteran players and team owners, the league finally instituted the rookie salary cap that pays its newcomers relatively modest, slotted wages based on the position the player was selected in the first round.

For example, even as most were sold on LeBron James as the Next Big Thing, he got the standard three-year, $12.96 million contract when Cleveland made him the No. 1 pick in the 2003 draft. An eight-year journeyman by the name of Tony Battie was making more that season than the future King James, who eventually earned his fortune on merit.

Which, of course, is the way it should be. It also makes you wonder why the NBA, where the odds of a rookie having an immediate impact are so much higher, gets it so right while the NFL gets it so wrong.

A rookie salary cap is coming in the NFL, but not before its draft this weekend once again makes helpless dopes of everyone at the top of the order, with the exception of the unproven players who have yet to play one down and their agents.

In 2007, JaMarcus Russell got $31 million guaranteed. The year before, Vince Young, $25.74 million. The year before that, Alex Smith, $24 million. Take it back to 1998, and another do-nothing quarterback, Ryan Leaf, received the largest signing bonus ever for a rookie, $11.25 million, when he was taken one pick after Peyton Manning.

So even as angst is building that Ted "Trade Down" Thompson will do it again with the No. 9 pick Saturday, who could really blame him if he did in a draft that will make absolutely no sense in terms of value until the NFL finally gets control with an NBA-type rookie cap?

You want the Packers to take an interior lineman like B.J. Raji or a pass rusher such as Brian Orakpo because they have no bigger needs on a scheme-changed defense. But for the kind of guaranteed cash it costs to play in the top 10, it's possible they could do as well a few spots lower without risking their finances, not to mention locker-room harmony over rookie-envy money.

Indianapolis Colts President Bill Polian was spot-on not long ago when he said the concept of the draft helping the worst teams has been distorted beyond recognition with high-round mad money.

"We're perfectly willing to have the money that does not go to the rookies go to the veterans," he said. "Nobody is looking to save money. But we're sick and tired of giving exorbitant, incredible sums of money to players who haven't proven they can do anything but play against Eastern Michigan."

NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell made that point last year when Miami gave a boatload of money to No. 1 pick Jake Long, calling it "ridiculous." If Long is a bust, the Dolphins are financially hamstrung for years. Meanwhile, some of the established veterans are alienated.

So when Goodell insists on a rookie cap during the upcoming labor negations, he won't have to pit owners against the players' union. He can, as David Stern did 15 years ago, make it veterans against rookies.

Just ask the 1994-'95 Bucks.