KISS MY ASTERISK!
In a swift reversal, our columnist now says that if MLB completes its season, eventual champs will have conquered the biggest obstacles ever
There are people who think a 60-game, pandemic-reduced baseball season will be like a Masters tournament played on a nine-hole, par-3 course. When I say “people,” I mean me in a past life of about a month ago.
Over the last few weeks, as major-league teams lumbered toward Opening Day, my stance softened on an asterisk being attached to the winner of the World Series.
Whoever wins this sprint through a minefield will have accomplished something great, something that came with challenges no other team had faced in the history of the game. Yes, the season will be sawed off, but if it somehow makes it to the end without being canceled (a big “if ”), it’ll be a huge accomplishment. Whoever wins the title will have overcome fears, doubts, disruptions, distractions, positive test results and cardboard fans.
No small thing.
So an asterisk? No. An asterisk can carry dark connotations. It speaks of illegitimacy, nefariousness or diminishment. Of Barry Bonds and the Astros.
We need a positive symbol. How about a star stamped next to the name of the 2020 winner? It would point to an achievement that deserved special recognition. “They endured,” it would say.
A 60-game schedule obviously won’t be as grueling as the ridiculous test of a 162-game season. For players, making it through the travel and the tedium of a full slate of games and winning a title is like making it through six months of the same meal and the same movie every day. Through porridge and “Eat, Pray, Love.”
But the uniqueness of this season presents its own kind of psychological grind. One thing is certain: No matter how conscientious teams are, no matter how
stringent procedures are, players will test positive. It’s a given. The season will be a war of attrition, and the war will be against an opponent that doesn’t play fair. The World Series winner very well could be the team with the most depth, not the most talent.
So it will be a different kind of season, with its own trials. It will be lesser in terms of the number of games, but not less.
Players are creatures of habit. By order of MLB, they won’t be able to do things this season that they’ve always done. No fist bumps. No spitting. Ballplayers not spitting is like the rest of us not breathing. According to the new MLB operations manual, very much informed by COVID-19, “players and coaches should never touch another person’s equipment.”
Also not to be touched: that sentence.
Social-distancing is mandatory. Lockers are six feet apart. Media members are not allowed inside clubhouses. You don’t think that’s a disruption? Just know that players forever have spent part of their days avoiding reporters. With nobody to avoid, what are the players supposed to do with all that free time? Not spit, that’s for sure.
There won’t be fans in the stands, at least to begin with. Crowd noise will be piped in.
The whole thing is Bizarro Baseball World. Some of these guys are wired so tight that any change in their routine sends them over the edge.
Half of them probably believe that the reaction to the pandemic is overblown and that their civil liberties are being trampled on, and the other half is petrified that they’ll bring the coronavirus home to their loved ones. Dealing with that particular tension in the clubhouse will be a new thing, too.
All of this deserves more than an asterisk. An asterisk belongs on a season shortened by a strike. Winning a title in a season shortened by an act of God deserves something different, something more.
Cubs manager David Ross has dismissed the notion that the 2020 season will carry less meaning.
“If they’re passing out a trophy, I want it,” he said. “If they’re handing out rings and we’re all starting from the same point, I don’t care if it’s a five-game season. This is competition, and it’s what we enjoy doing. It’s why we suit up.”
Being committed to winning means keeping contact with outsiders to a minimum. That’s a nice way of saying to players, “No carousing after games.” Do they even call it carousing anymore? So many questions in these strange times.
The team that’s best at playing baseball and navigating the coronavirus should get a World Series trophy and a star next to its name. A gold one. If the season is shut down in midstream, then we can call on our old friend the asterisk. I have a bad feeling we’ll be seeing him.
THE TEAM THAT’S BEST AT PLAYING BASEBALL AND NAVIGATING THE CORONAVIRUS SHOULD GET A WORLD SERIES TROPHY AND A STAR NEXT TO ITS NAME. A GOLD ONE.