The Hole Modern Baseball Left
I don’t know what compelled me to listen to Modern Baseball on my drive home from work.
In the last month, Modern Baseball released demos of their songs “Pothole” & “Rock Bottom.”
It wasn’t the new music or band reunion announcement I had hoped for, though longtime Modern Baseball fans know this hope is more of a pipedream than a realistic expectation.
As the familiar cords and voice of Jake Ewald filled my car, I could feel my heart constrict as my mind unraveled the memories I had long forgotten.
It’s been almost seven years since the band disbanded, a band whose time defined my transition from high school into college. And there’s no band better for the job. Their songs are a menagerie of motifs about drinking, heartbreak, anxiety, and downright feeling like a loser, all things I could claim from the ages of 17 to 22.
While much of that feels melodramatic in retrospect, some of it still rings true, even if it’s hard to admit. Something about the mundane culture of corporate life mimics the same feelings you felt at 20, a gnawing feeling that everyone is having more fun than you.
But if I can imagine myself, back in my freshman year of college, reading vocalist Brendan Lukens's infamous hiatus post as I scrolled Instagram, I remember the sinking feeling of something lost long before it ever really got started.
Those who came of age at a similar time can relate, it’s the hindsight that down the line some portion of their college experience or early careers were about to be ripped away due to the pandemic. That Modern Baseball breaking up was just the beginning crescendo of a long line of lost experiences, each one hollowing out the hole further.
The Party is Over.
From door to door, Modern Baseball was only truly itself for about five years. Originating from Philadelphia, the band took its name from a book called Modern Baseball Techniques that co-lead vocalist and guitarist Jake Ewald found in his basement. In 2012, they officially released their debut album Sports, marking the beginning of their short but influential run.
By the time they gained enough fame to break into the mainstream — at least within the emo scene — they disbanded.
It wasn’t in a blaze of Guns N’ Roses-style drama or the loss of a band member. It was simply that the vibe wasn’t there anymore; the party was over.
Jake Ewald and bassist Ian Farmer had already been working on side projects like Slaughter Beach, Dog since Modern Baseball’s early days. To preserve the friendships they had built, the band made the mature, adult decision to call it quits. While Ewald and Farmer continued on with their new band, Modern Baseball was officially done.
For many of us approaching adulthood, Modern Baseball's breakup was the nail in the coffin. The breakup of Modern Baseball came as emo was winding down, and like a quick flick of a light switch at closing time, we were all ushered out of adolescence and into adulthood.
The Kids Aren’t Alright
I can’t ignore the elephant in the room, which is an emo band breaking up due to mental health struggles is almost Shakespearean levels of poetic tragedy. This is not to dismiss those issues but rather to highlight the staggering rise in mental health issues among young people — the core audience of emo music and, by extension, Modern Baseball.
For a band that built their music on self-depreciation and obsessive thought, it’s no surprise that many fans, myself included, connected with it because we were dealing with the same difficulties.
Even then, cell phone culture had already infiltrated Modern Baseball’s lyrics, with references to texting, iPhones, and Instagram. Multiple studies have documented a staggering year-over-year increase in mental health issues among teens and young adults since the rise of social media. A study in 2023 from Gallup found that those in the 19–29 age demographic reported significant levels of loneliness.
Even before social media became as pervasive as it is today, the issues related to self-image and social media were already evident in their lyrics. As Modern Baseball gained popularity, these issues were likely amplified, making it feel as though they were under an increasingly intense spotlight.
I won’t resort to a simplistic “it’s because of that damn phone” explanation for mental health struggles. However, as Modern Baseball stepped away from the scene due to mental health issues, it seemed that young people were also distancing themselves — either to become more functional adults, as their social media profiles might suggest, or to become more isolated.
Nostalgia is a Cruel Mistress
Now that I’m quite a bit older, Modern Baseball holds a level of nostalgia, but perhaps partially because Modern Baseball signifies the countless beers I drank either in frat houses after hours or late-night ruminations in my childhood home’s basement.
On the one hand, I want to look at that time with rose-colored glasses, thinking about the summer before college, all opportunities with no responsibilities.
But that’s not the truth in the slightest. I struggled with unreciprocated feelings for boys who didn’t want me, mourning the high school friendships that often disintegrate before college and yearning for the college friendships that had yet to materialize.
Modern Baseball brings back memories of cold nights on Thanksgiving break from college, driving around the suburbs I was a stranger in, and listening to You’re Going To Miss it All while the growing encroachment of social media made the sense of FOMO even more overwhelming.
While some bands offer an escape through romanticization, Modern Baseball reminds us — just in case we forgot — that being 20 sucks.
In a League of Their Own
People point to Slaughter Beach, Dog as the quintessential successor to Modern Baseball’s legacy, but many would agree that they don’t quite fill the shoes, nor should they have to.
Created by Ewald and Farmer in parallel to Modern Baseball, Slaughter Beach, Dog on one hand expands on the acoustic and soft-spoken songs seen highlighted in later Modern Baseball albums like Holy Ghost, they bring to the table a different set of skills both musically and lyrically. Many consider Slaughter Beach, Dog not a replacement but a mature offshoot.
The Foo Fighters will never be Nirvana and Slaughter Beach, Dog will never be Modern Baseball; instead, they are in a league of their own.
If the members of Modern Baseball are allowed to leave and redefine their musical identities, maybe it can be a reminder to ourselves that we, too, can grow and continue to redefine ourselves on our own terms.
And perhaps to not be so hard on ourselves for our adolescent years.
