Make Baseball Fun Again
Don’t you remember you told me loved me, Baseball? How is it while we’ve been politely lingering through our days together the gaslight went unseen? How should we restore and preserve our most precious pastoral distraction for the oncoming, unappreciative brood? We can’t let precious, youthful consumers slip through our fingers unless we’re resigned to, and content with, our past and present taking left steps hand in hand boundlessly, nostrils towards the sun.
Fruit of our loins, Millennials of my Millennials, all fanning flames licking the bottoms of bleachers. Snapchatting in the stands.
We must make Baseball fun, again.
Baseball’s selling point is timelessness. Oxygen preserved and passed down all within walled gardens, the same air exhaled by idols a century ago filling the bloodstream today. The ichor transfused from the old to the new like a thirteen dollar pint of Miller slipping against the gravel in your throat. Ivy covered walls and local lawn care adverts framing an Edenic landscape where a past that’s not our own waves, flirts and brushes the cheek. It’s 4pm on a Saturday and if there’s one more pitching change in this inning I’m going to be two beers past useful. I have shit to do guys.
So what can we do? How to we repair this broken game that keeps us from the 10 o’clock news and dangles the relief of a seventh inning stretch just out of reach for hours? The absence of delay-of-game penalties and shot clocks are crushing our hopes for endorphin-filled rail ride to a finish line. As a community of non contributors we have the right to tuck our pants into our striped socks and get down to business sorting this whole timelessness problem out.
Football and Basketball is completely offense driven now. Between new rules soft on violence and stricter on defensive interference, it’s not unreasonable to believe Football will rid itself of defense completely in the coming years. At least that’s what Malcom Gladwell thinks, I think. Imagine how much faster the instant gratification would be if Baseball followed suit. I love my points and you won’t deprive me of my scores.
The lack of distraction in the form of explosions is problematic, especially when considering the awkward pauses between remarks with the old man next to me at the sports bar will only keep getting longer after the take tank keeps suffering withdrawals. In what lifetime is it humane to make us suffer each other throughout prolonged periods of nothingness in the very sanctuary we’ve pilgrimaged to in search of points. The light sweat stains on his supermarket shirt collar tells the story of long suffering minutes waiting for batters stepping out of boxes to adjust a dozen new pieces of equipment across their bodies before the next swing. We need excitement. Our significant others are at home holding their breath for our triumphant return. Baseball is broken.
Murder sustains attention to international Soccer. 2 strikes you’re out. Steph Curry. More friends to watch the game with. Free-er tickets to games that are closer with less traffic. A harlem-globetrotter style team which tours the league and does….er, backflips? More backflips. Fights. 1 strike you’re out. Uniformly replace all walk-up music with the Crazy Frog song. Celebrities throwing the first pitch and also every pitch. Less innings (faster games). Sell ad space on jerseys. Pay me to play baseball.