Reflections on Baseball and America
Every year, I promise myself that this time will be different. I’ll closely follow baseball through its long season, maybe even watch at least ten regular-season games before the playoffs kick off. If I’m really committed, I’ll even hit the ballpark more than once. Yet, somehow, each year ends the same—disappointingly. This has been a familiar pattern for the last five seasons.
Perhaps, I’m simply trying to convince myself to enjoy something that I can’t genuinely embrace. You might see me as un-American, or maybe even a bit out of touch, but the sport I truly adore and keep up with is European soccer, especially the English leagues. I do have a soft spot for golf too, but only during the majors, like the U.S. Open or the Masters. Still, there’s something special about baseball. It’s so deeply embedded in our nation’s fabric; it feels like our pastime. I’ve found that each time I’ve been to a game in the past few years, especially after a few beers, I’m almost moved to tears by the atmosphere. It really is captivating. The game, the fans, the families gathered together, the crack of the bat, the seventh-inning stretch—those hot dog vendors climbing up and down the steps. It’s undeniably romantic; it embodies what it means to be American.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize that my affection for this country is rooted in the specifics—like baseball’s cherished spot in our collective memory. It’s about the diverse regions, landscapes, and cities, even the national parks. I love New York City, with its artists in rent-controlled apartments, the Orthodox Jews hustling through the Diamond District, and the bodega clerks calling you “boss” when you order lunch. I appreciate how Texas megachurches throw rock concerts for Christmas, and the warmth of southern hospitality. It’s the quirky traits throughout the country that speak to me—like the people in Long Beach who embody the spirit of “Sublime” or Vermonters who tap maple trees for syrup. I cherish the unique American experiences, from the eccentrics to the suburbanites, and everyone in between.
In recent times, I’ve watched countless grainy, black-and-white videos showing the military striking Iranian targets. Oddly enough, these images don’t fill me with patriotism. Instead, I often find myself feeling a strange detachment from my country. Perhaps I shouldn’t feel this way. After all, we’re in a war, which is very serious business. Maybe it’s just the world we’re living in now, where so much of our lives are mediated by screens. I think our political leaders, who sometimes act like war is just a video game, share part of the blame. And then, there are those same leaders, government officials, and various pundits who claim that if I’m not excited by explosions and oppose the war, I’m un-American. Nonsense!
The essence of America isn’t found in our ability to launch strikes against enemies far away. It’s not about having superior weapons or aircraft carriers. No, it’s about the moments when we can gather in a ballpark. Regardless of our support or opposition to any war—whether you’re right next to someone who holds the opposite political views—you can still enjoy the game, sip on a couple of beers, and savor a hot dog together. That’s what really reflects the greatness of America: peace, prosperity, tolerance, and baseball.
Those in Washington may try to create divisions among us. They’ll attempt to manipulate us over the war, convincing us they’re acting out of a sense of duty and love for our country. But let’s be real.
Ultimately, they might try to strip away our history and freedoms. Yet, one thing remains unassailable: our love for America, with all its unique traits. They can never take away our passion for baseball.
