The Detroit Tigers are opening their season this afternoon, in an indoor stadium called the Rogers Center in Toronto. Forgive me for saying this, but to open the baseball season in Canada in March is, verily, an abomination unto the Lord.
Baseball, America’s national game, was meant to be played outside, and the season was meant to begin in April and end in September, or maybe the first couple days of October.
Not anymore. The World Series sometimes is still going in November. They’d probably have it last till Christmas and have the new season start on New Year’s Day if they could.
That is, if that made more profits. Let me now make a confession. I essentially see myself as a conservative – that is, about things worth conserving. Unfortunately, the term conservative, like the term liberal, has been ruined by politicians. There’s nothing conservative about taking health care away from people.
Nor is ruining and changing the character of a game that grew out of the very nature of what it means to be an American a good thing. When I was a child, the world of major league baseball was clear, coherent and symmetrical, and easy to understand.
There were the National and American Leagues. There were eight, then ten teams in each one. Teams played every other team in their league 18 times a year during the regular season – nine at home and nine away. They did not play teams in other league, except in exhibition games and during the World Series. Everybody could be equally measured against their rivals for the pennant. Well, that changed after the Tigers won the World Series in 1968.
Suddenly, there were two divisions in each league, with a round of playoffs between the division winners. Then a third division was added, and then some inter-league play during the regular season. Deciding whether to let a weak-hitting pitcher bat or yank him from the game was always one of the more interesting elements of baseball strategy.
Now the pitchers never have to bat in the American League, cheapening the game, and there’s pressure to bring the designated hitter to the National League as well.
I am fully aware that I sound like the quintessential old fart, and I suppose I am. Star baseball players weren’t paid what they were worth back in the 1960s, and the reserve clause binding them to one team forever was a violation of their rights. I get that.
But in the old days, teams stayed together longer, and played together long enough to have true coherency as a team. A star could stick around into his late 30s or even 40s, helping younger players and adding to his legend. That doesn’t happen much now.
The salaries are too high. The major league minimum is $555,000 a year, which, adjusted for inflation, is almost as much as Hall of Famer Al Kaline ever made. This year, the Tigers will not only pay one aging player $30 million, they will pay another $8 million to Justin Verlander, who hasn’t been with the team for two years.
The Tigers, who are expected to be one of the worst and cheapest teams in the major leagues, have a opening day payroll of more than $100 million.
There’s something wrong with this picture. True attendance is hard to calculate, since they now count tickets sold as people showing up. But even by that measure, attendance has been declining nationwide for the last five years.
Greed is, indeed, killing baseball, along with forgetting what this game is really supposed to be about. They say baseball has always mirrored the times. I am beginning to be afraid that is right.
