I thought baseball would become political in 2017, but it only absorbed the frazzled, babbling-lunatic tenor of the country at large—which gives me hope for the game’s future.
Baseball is not yet undergoing a revolution, but it is no coincidence that in 2017, even this politically timid game now carries a whiff of the resistance.
Every day since November has been a drag. In the midst of its dog days, one weekend of well-deserved, inclusive, player-worship was the least baseball could provide.
The Cleveland Indians are young and robust, but in a part of America increasingly known for stories about the ravages of opioids, not even baseball is quarantined from issues of health care.
Both baseball and politics invite delusions of more perfect ways of living—but some fantasies seem more attainable than others.
Tragedy, spectacle, disgrace, massive wealth, grotesque inequality, and the tasteless whims of a hated New Yorker: does any baseball franchise more resemble America in 2017 than the Miami Marlins?
As the most immigrant-dependent and racially diverse sport in the United States, baseball this year seems primed to either lose its politically aloof pose at last or look progressively ridiculous.