PARADE OF NONSENSE
Dumbing down Opening Day among MLB’s lunacy
THE KIDS in our neighborhood, this time of year, would envy the kids in Cincinnati. No foolin’. There was a wonderful tradition back then, before MLB placed a price tag on everything and marked up its soul for sale to TV, then pay-more cable, and now whatever it can get via streaming — even if it costs fans more and more money and costs MLB more and more fans.
With the Cincinnati Red Stockings, formed in 1869, the oldest team in the majors, the Reds, as a matter of sustaining historical deference, were annually granted MLB’s Opening Day game. None other was even scheduled.
And Cincy responded with hearts and souls. Schools were closed so kids could attend the parade that placed the Reds in open-top convertibles, so they could wave to the crowds as they were slowly driven to Crosley Field.
It was right out of a Norman Rockwell print, and all the baseball-crazy kids at P.S. 35 wished they’d been shipped to Cincy for the day. Of course, this was before teams’ marketing departments were invented, as there was no need to interest kids in what they already were crazy about. Those Opening Day Reds’ games typically were played the second week of April, a logical time of year for fans to begin to attend baseball games and baseball to begin. To play weekend games at night was out of the question, because it defied logic. There
was little TV money to play stupid for.
One wonders if Rob Manfred knows of that Opening Day tradition — or just allowed it, as did Bud “Bottom Line” Selig before him — to be destroyed for TV money.
Now, Opening Day belongs to ESPN for no other reason than money, as ESPN relentlessly proves that it wrecks everything it touches with its half-witted excesses, cross- and self-promotions and divided in-game attention.
So this year’s Opening Day became a Dodgers-Padres game, held last week, March 20, in Seoul, South Korea. A game designed to make far more dollars than sense.
First pitch for the opener, between West Coast teams, was 6:05 a.m. ET, 3:05 a.m. in L.A. and San Diego. As Lt. Kojak asked, “Who loves ya, baby?”
As for Norman Rockwell, he’s pitching parlays for one of MLB’s partner sports
books.