I am not that old.
At least that’s what I tell myself, whenever I look in the mirror and spot a new gray hair peeking through my beard, or when I hear a new musical artist and think to myself, “That’s not music!”, or when my son complains about something like poor Wi-Fi connectivity. At heart, I like to think I’m as young as anyone. But I must admit, the more years I put in, the more I crave normalcy, and the less I crave excitement and new experiences. The other night I found myself lying in bed, watching the evening news and reading a book, and I thought, “Uh oh, I’m turning into my parents!”
Perhaps my advancing age shows itself most in my love for Major League Baseball. There is very little that satiates me more at the end of a long day at work than coming home, getting most of my house off to bed, then sitting down, putting my feet up and watching the Atlanta Braves blow a lead in the late innings. (Obviously, I would prefer to watch them not blowing leads, but this is what happens when you elect to move forward without an effective closing reliever.)
I can’t entirely explain why this is such a satisfying time of my day—I’m sure it’s partially because it means my work is mostly done and I can de-engage a bit from the treadmill I’m on all day. But it’s also, I believe, because baseball is involved. I’ve watched baseball for as long as I can remember, specifically the Atlanta Braves. The Braves have basically always been a part of my life, and as such, no matter where I am in the world, no matter how my day is going, there is some comfort in being able to hang out with the Braves for 160-something nights per year. As someone who played baseball from childhood through high school, I understand and appreciate just how hard it is to be great at baseball, and marvel at the ability of athletes like Ronald Acuña Jr. and Freddie Freeman, who make it look easy. I love the strategy involved, how every pitch speed and location works in tandem to set up the next pitch. And perhaps most of all, in a world that never seems to stop going 100 miles an hour, I love sitting down with a sport that is deliberate and even, gasp, thoughtful.
The problem for baseball, of course, is that it seems like fewer and fewer people each year agree with me about the sport’s merits. Baseball was once so popular it was known as “America’s Pastime,” but lately seems to have seen its popularity fade, at least nationally. And clearly, the rise in the popularity of other sports, particularly football and basketball, has eroded baseball’s prominence. Even the game’s stars are not nearly as universal as they once were, like back when Joe DiMaggio married Marilyn MonroeMike Trout, the consensus best player in the game, looks like. I grew up poring over box scores in the morning paper, which I no longer receive, and I spent hours memorizing stats that have more recently been deemed irrelevant. While much has been made of baseball’s recent influx of charismatic younger players, from Acuña to Fernando Tatis to Tim Anderson, I’m not so sure they’re actually moving the needle in any significant way, either: I can’t get my eight-year-old son to watch one at-bat from a Braves game with me, even with engaging players like Acuña or Ozzie Albies playing; meanwhile, he wants every piece of Ja Morant gear that’s available to purchase.
Baseball is clearly trying to make the game more palatable to the masses, speeding up at bats, limiting pitching changes and hoping to shorten extra-inning games by allowing teams to start each half-inning with men on base. But will all these changes make a difference? Will baseball suddenly seem watchable to younger viewers?
These days baseball can seem, well, hurried. During last night’s Braves/Yankees game, in the top of the 7th with the score tied at 1 and the bases loaded, Braves outfielder Ehire Adrianza faced off against Yankees reliever Chad Green. As they got deeper into the count, both Adrianza and Green continued to step away, playing mind games with each other and ratcheting up the tension. Except home plate umpire Laz Diaz kept clapping his hands together, over and over, telling everyone to hurry up. Did he have somewhere else to be? That was unclear.
I wonder if instead of trying to change the game, maybe baseball should pivot the other way? What if baseball, instead, decided to embrace what it makes it different, to appeal to everyone’s innate desire for a little peace and quiet. In a world where we are all glued to our phones, baseball actually provides time to peruse social media, without missing any action. What is baseball if not an extended meditation, with a couple of exciting moments thrown in along the way?
Perhaps all of this isn’t a surprise. Baseball has spent years unable to get out of its own way, from players striking while the game was wildly popular to nearly arguing themselves out of even having games at all last season. Remember the year the All-Star Game ended in a tie? Baseball is the very definition of a something paralyzed by committee rule. Trying to make everyone happy generally ends up with everyone unhappy.
Baseball became America’s pastime in part because it helped America pass time. Hitting fast-forward on what you’re great at is a very baseball mistake to make. Maybe baseball will pick up a few fans who love starting extra innings with a man on base. But for most of us, I think joyfully hastening one’s own death is something we’d all rather see the sport avoid.