Since Game 7 of World Series, Baseball has struck out
There had been close to 44,000 people in the building, back when it was safe to witness history, before Daniel Hudson struck out Michael Brantley, with a slider that twisted toward the dirt, and the sport inched into free fall.
It was Oct. 30, 2019, a night that now feels like some utopian, ancient past. Those people packed Minute Maid Park in Houston. They lined the concourse. They watched from odd angles, craning their necks, glued to a World Series Game 7 that ended with the Washington Nationals mobbing Hudson, an unlikely hero, at the centre of a deflated building.
Not long after, once that building emptied, Adam Eaton led his family up the dugout steps and onto the field. The lights were dimmed. The stands were empty. A cleaning crew swept a mess into small piles. Eaton, the Nationals right-fielder, told his son to jog around the bases. He showed his father and son where to put their feet so they could stand like him in the batter’s box. Then he walked his son, his parents and his wife to the exact spot where he watched the final out.
They all stood there, imagining it again, saving that image in the safest parts of their brains. But in that moment, as parties filled Washington, baseball fans couldn’t have known to do the same. The eight months since have brought the Astros cheating scandal, the Boston Red Sox cheating scandal, the coronavirus pandemic, the ensuing labour battle between players and owners, the troubling treatment of minor leaguers — deep breath — and, with an agreement this week, the advent of a 60-game season while the world remains in a public health crisis.
So Game 7 of the World Series is not only the last time two Major League Baseball teams engaged in meaningful competition. It was one of the last good things that happened in baseball.
It was the calm before a still-raging storm.
“If fans found something to replace baseball in this time, with all that’s happened, then the sport would have a problem moving forward,” said George Dohrmann, whose book Superfans explored the psychology of fandom. “But it’s more likely that these events — the cheating scandals, the labour unrest — will make it less likely for older fans to pass the game down to the next generation.”
Dohrmann explained that, if baseball were to be cancelled for 2020, angered fans would probably find another fix. That could still happen, with the coronavirus continuing to ripple through America, and a health-and-safety plan that hinges on a flimsy honour code. European soccer, golf and NASCAR are already operating. The NBA and NHL plan to insulate players in a “bubble” or hub cities to minimize travel and maximize isolation and safety.
But there are lots of reasons people discard a sport. They might have a child, meet a new partner or go through another lifechanging event, Dohrmann said. And if baseball sees a slow-drip exodus, whether it has a season or not, there’s a good chance 2020 is a factor.
The setup came Nov. 12, 2019, when the Athletic reported the Astros had used an illegal electronic sign-stealing system in 2017 and 2018. Mike Fiers, a former Astros pitcher, came forward to expose them and was labelled a whistleblower. By spring, when camps started in Florida and Arizona, Major League Baseball had levelled punishments against the Astros and was reviewing evidence that the Red Sox had illegally stolen signs, too.
A. J. Hinch, the Astros manager, and Jeff Luhnow, their general manager, were banned for a year and immediately fired. Red Sox manager Alex Cora, who was Hinch’s bench coach during the sign-stealing seasons, was ousted. So was Carlos Beltran, newly hired as the New York Mets manager, because he played for the Astros in 2017 and reportedly used his veteran influence to help orchestrate the elaborate scheme.
This was the talk of baseball for weeks. The Astros were peppered with questions about stealing signs, about being booed wherever they went, about the possibility of being drilled with fastballs once the regular season began. Atlanta Braves outfielder Nick Markakis told reporters that “every single guy over there needs a beating.”
Cleveland Indians pitcher Mike Clevinger said the Astros “shouldn’t be comfortable” stepping in for at-bats.
The rest of baseball seemed bound by a shared disdain for Houston. Many were also upset at commissioner Rob Manfred, saying the penalties did not fit the transgressions. Houston lost its manager, its GM, draft picks and money. But no active players were punished, and the team’s 2017 title was left untouched.
“The idea of an asterisk or asking for a piece of metal back seems like a futile act,” Manfred said in an interview with ESPN. That triggered another wave of social media criticism from players, suggesting that Manfred and MLB were out of touch. Los Angeles Dodgers third baseman Justin Turner summed it up by shifting his frustration from the Astros to Manfred, saying, “At this point, the only thing devaluing that trophy is that it says ‘commissioner’ on it.”
This was only the beginning.
By mid-march, with the virus spiking all over, MLB cancelled the rest of spring training and suspended the regular season for at least two weeks. By late March, when it was clear the suspension would last much longer, MLB and the players union agreed to a deal that would pay players prorated shares of their salaries for however many games are ultimately played.
But MLB contended the agreement called for a second economic negotiation for games played without fans, to offset lost revenue from tickets, concessions and parking. The next offer it made was for an 82-game season with a sliding-scale pay structure. It was far from pro rata, as the players believed had been agreed to.
The players rejected the offer. They made a counterproposal
May 31, 114 games with full prorated pay, and the owners rejected that. They traded proposals June 8 and 9 that went nowhere. Vocal members of the players union — Nationals ace Max Scherzer, St. Louis Cardinals ace Jack Flaherty, Cincinnati Reds pitcher Trevor Bauer — blasted
Manfred and the owners on social media. They used their platforms to shift the public narrative that players are the greedy ones when millionaires battle billionaires. But for many fans, using their social media platforms, too, that battle was hard to swallow while facing the economic realities of a pandemic.
“Fans follow those proceedings, like strikes and labour negotiations, because they want to know when games will be back,” Dohrmann said. “But the money side can be a big turnoff, especially now.”
Before the draft this month, Manfred guaranteed a season of some length. Days later, when negotiations soured again, he told ESPN he was “not confident” there would be baseball this year. Meanwhile, midway through June, the virus had left hundreds of minor leaguers without a job.
Facing the prospect of paying them US$400 per week for the summer, many teams released dozens of players. The Oakland Athletics tried to stop paying altogether, before public shaming forced them to reverse course. The Nationals tried to cut weekly stipends to $300 from $400, but public shaming, and a pledge from their major leaguers to cover the difference, forced them to restore the full amount.
The Nationals spent around $205 million on their 40-man roster before winning the World Series in 2019. They cut 40 minor leaguers at the end of May to save $70,000 in June, and because it is increasingly likely that there will not be a minor league season. A majority of teams made similar choices, and it all left another dark mark on the sport.
“Part of me is like, ‘Well, if the Royals would sign me, I’ll keep playing,’” said a player released by the Nationals in May, referring to one team that maintained its $400 weekly stipends and full benefits and did not cut any minor leaguers. The player spoke on the condition of anonymity to protect his chances of getting another job in the sport. “Then you realize they are doing the bare minimum. The minor leagues will teach you to lower expectations. All of baseball will.”
Now there is an agreement for a season. Well, sort of.
It took trading a handful of offers that looked very similar to one another. Then the players union declined MLB’S last proposal last Monday. They did so to retain the right to file a $1-billion grievance against MLB for not negotiating in good faith. But the main contents of the last proposal — 60 games, full prorated pay — is the basis of what baseball will attempt in July.
Training camps are expected to open next week. The hope is for a regular season to begin three weeks later, though the Philadelphia Phillies, Colorado Rockies, Los Angeles Dodgers and Toronto Blue Jays have already had coronavirus cases, and the U.S. is dealing with a severe spike in many states.
Since October, since Game 7, since the Eatons stood in Minute Maid Park wondering what could be better, baseball has exposed each fracture beneath its surface. The sport has had an unforgettable stretch of bad publicity and infighting. And it may just be the opening act for this dicey experiment of a season, and what could come with collective bargaining agreement negotiations in 2021.
“We owe it to our fans to be better than we’ve been the last three months,” Manfred told The Associated Press this week, suggesting that a public labour fight was all the sport had done wrong.
These events — the cheating scandals, the labour unrest — will make it less likely for older fans to pass the game down to the
next generation.