Time was, I was a dedicated fan. It wasn’t easy, either — my hometown Philadelphia Phillies struggled to win more games than they lost each season. Minor league prospects failed to pan out, and the club never quite pulled off a trade when it most needed one. There was a season when they dropped below .500 on the last game because of a poor defensive choice during the next-to-last out of a tied game in the bottom of the ninth. It was unforgettably pathetic, even by Phillies’ standards.
Still, baseball always had its incredible history and intricate strategy going for it. Even during a period of futility, there were great moments. One of those, which I took in with my dad in our season-ticket seats, was Kevin Millwood’s 2003 no-hitter. I still have the scorecard I kept from that game, especially since I’ll probably never see another one in person.
That feat occurred in the final season in the Phillies’ old ballpark. Something special occurred after the final game in the maligned ‘70s-era Veterans Stadium, too. Decades of Phillies greats stood on the field, including my choice for the greatest player of all time, Michael Schmidt, as well as Tug McGraw, the only Phillies closer to that point ever to clinch a World Series.
The game itself has something akin to sanctity about it, thanks to the tradition left behind by generations of greats. New York Times columnist David Brooks described this spirit in a January column about Ryne Sandberg’s induction into the Hall of Fame, when the player told the crowd, “I played [the game] right because that’s what you’re supposed to do, play it right and with respect.”
At some point soon after 2003, though, baseball’s dirty little drug habit become unbearable. That, and not the Phillies’ propensity to lose in soul-crushing fashion over a remarkable length of time, was what estranged me from baseball. The commissioner, the club owners and the players’ union all ignored the problem, and then attempted half-hearted solutions. Many 40- and 50-somethings feel the same way about the 1994 season-ending strike: It’s hard to trust the stewards of the game after they stomped all over it.
Last year, though, the Phillies made a serious run at the World Series. I felt like I owed it to myself to follow the playoff run that never happened during all the years I rooted religiously. The Phillies won it all for the first time in 28 years and only the second time in 125. This fall, the Phillies will go back to that most revered stage in all of sports. (The World Series will always be that, even if the Super Bowl has become more popular.) Regardless, even the excitement of having the Phillies compared to Cincinnati’s famed Big Red Machine — fairly or not — hasn’t restored my trust. Baseball, as Mr. Lemon would agree, lost its real-world credibility.
For the non-baseball fans, one comparison might be Princeton’s USG. Last year, it suffered a cascade of embarrassing disputes and gaffes that spilled out into public, culminating in a University investigation and accusations of a witch hunt. The USG, like Major League Baseball, lost its claim to responsible stewardship of a public trust.
This year’s USG seems off to a good recovery, but it will take a while. Likewise, even though baseball cleaned up its act, it will take time to restore the old spirit. The psyche just doesn’t switch on or off of cynicism. If all the MLB executives and lawyers can’t do it in a snap, then the USG certainly won’t be able to, either. When a public institution — whether diversionary like MLB or more serious like the USG — loses the public trust, it has to prove itself to us again. We sustain these sorts of institutions, and like Sandberg said, we rightfully demand a certain level of respect for the spirit of the game or the responsibility of an elected representative, as the case may be.
Fortunately for baseball and everything else, you really can always wait till next year. Once in a while, the mythical “next year” even turns out to be this year. As Lemon’s Hall of Fame teammate Bob Feller put it, “You can build on yesterday’s success or put its failures behind and start over again. That’s the way life is, with a new game every day, and that’s the way baseball is.” As for me, I’ll be watching the World Series, mindful of the game’s grandeur, and hoping that Major League Baseball does the same.
Brian Lipshutz is a sophomore from Lafayette Hill, Pa. He can be reached at lipshutz@princeton.edu.
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