Baseball: Does America’s Favorite Pastime Belong In the Past?
It is baseball’s opening day. This is usually one of my favorite days of the year. I grind through the winter and hot stove league to get here. Baseball usually means that spring has arrived, but this year it reminds me of America’s past.
I fear the game has lost itself to history. Major League Baseball has tried to make changes during this shortened season to address its dwindling fanbase, but as COVID-19 has expedited changes in other dying industries (looking at you, retail), it will likely hasten baseball’s demise.
I do not welcome its end. Baseball is and will likely always be my favorite sport. Its pace and marathon-like nature make it a persistent presence during any summer. The sounds of the game in the background alone bring comfort and peace. The game itself requires mental fortitude unmatched by any other sport. It forces you to think, whether between pitches, in the on-deck circle, or waiting for the ball to come screaming at you unexpectedly. The strategy and creativity promoted by the game has been as astounding as it’s been annoying. Just read Moneyball.
Yet baseball let America down this year. A sport that had been there through the ages, and had held the country together in good times and bad, was nowhere to be found when America was in dire straits. The NBA “restarts” on July 30th after a reprieve since March given Coronavirus. The NFL’s season is right around the corner. Baseball could have owned the spring and summer while Americans quarantined at home, but instead it decided to battle over labor relations while figuring out how to return safely. The latter was understandable. The former was baffling. Now it will face ruthless competition for eyeballs in a popularity game the NBA is happy to play.
Baseball used to be as American as apple pie. Now it is arguably third in the hierarchy of American sports. Fans care less about tradition, and more about their favorite player’s social media presence. Baseball has done a pathetic job at promoting its best individual talents. Some people may recognize Mike Trout walking down the street because he just looks like an athletic specimen, but few people can identify him as the Angel’s centerfielder. Mookie Betts‘ image and likeness should be plastered everywhere, but baseball barely makes an effort. By not promoting its stars, baseball fails to tell compelling stories.
The game was with America through two world wars, the Great Depression, September 11th, and the Great Recession. Yet Commissioner Rob Manfred thought it was opportune to engage in labor warfare when America needed the game most this year. Quarantined with no competition, baseball could have ruled the airwaves. Instead it sat out all of spring and one entire month of summer, like someone too scared to step up to the plate.
The 60 game season may have some unique storylines. The Astro’s players may only get pegged for 60 straight regular season games instead of 162. Someone might hit .400. The Mariners could get hot and make it to the playoffs for the first time since 2001. Whatever happens, it will have an asterisk. For if there is one thing baseball will forever hold near and dear, it’s the statistics and records that fill the game with tradition and history. This almost asinine approach to counting that makes the game so special may also be its kryptonite.
Perhaps this strange season plagued by Coronavirus is the jolt it needs to redefine and reimagine itself. To fend off cultural irrelevance in perpetuity, baseball must harness its tradition while retelling its story. If it fails, the game may be lost to history forever.
