Let's Play Ball: Kindness on the Field
- Kelly Hendrick
- Dec 1, 2023
- 4 min read
Updated: Apr 30, 2024
Baseball. “America’s Pastime.” That nickname is supposed to be an affectionate moniker, a callback to the role the sport has played in shaping our history, our culture—which is maybe what makes baseball scandals such tough pills to swallow. If this sport represents the evolution of the U.S., what do those scandals say about us as country?
I live in Northeast Ohio, which lives and breathes football like the rest of the Midwest. Yes, football is arguably the most popular sport in the U.S., but to me, it’s never held a candle to the purity of baseball. Movies like 42, Moneyball, and Angels in the Outfield (yep, child of the 80s here), always appealed to me because they showed the power baseball has to unify and evolve. I hold the sport in such a high regard that events like the Houston Astros sign-stealing scandal devastated me. The lack of consequences for the players devastated my faith in the sport. Four years after the story broke and six years after Houston’s World Series “win,” the story still stings.
Houston is the scandal of my generation. For an older generation, the steroids scandal might be the one that hurts the most. Or maybe it was Pete Rose’s ban in the 80s. The point is—baseball has had its share of scandals.
But that’s not what baseball is. Not to me and hopefully not to the millions of fans who still root for the MLB each year. I was actually inspired to write this after being sent a video of two Little Leaguers hugging on the mound after a wild pitch struck the batter. It’s a really beautiful moment, and it’s stuck with me. That’s what baseball can be; that’s where it can start.
So where do we find the kindness here? Well, from the winning and the losing.
The Unity in Loss
I’ll start with the “losing,” because as a Cleveland Guardians fan, that’s what I’m the most familiar with. (A sentiment most Cleveland sports fans have been well acquainted with at some point or another, I gather.) Jan Juffer, a Chicago Cubs fan, argues losing can make it fun. Granted, she wrote this in 2006 before the Cubs won the World Series (against Cleveland, incidentally, which means they happily passed us the “longest losing streak” baton), so her opinions may have changed since then.
But her argument still resonates with me. When there are no expectations of winning, the sport can be about something else. The priority isn’t the destination but the journey. The priority lies within enjoying the moment surrounded by fellow fans in the exact same boat. As she sums up, the baseball stadium of a losing team is “where on any summer afternoon, one finds a motley crew of retired people, crazy people, and criminals, all joined together in the devious and nonproductive practice of watching the Cubs lose another game.”
The Lessons Losing Teaches Us
R.A.R Edwards, a Boston Red Sox fan—another team with a famous long(ish)-running losing streak—argues that the losses can help shape who we are. She recounts childhood stories where her mother would watch from a distance to “spare herself the agony of losses due to late game collapses,” whereas her father watched through the final pitch, “faithful to the end.” Basketball taught her about the fun of winning, and baseball taught the resiliency through loss. I can attest; watching through the final pitch has led to the joy of seeing a walk-off, in-the-park homerun in 2016, and a game-tying double—two outs and two strikes—during an historic 22-game winning streak. And it’s led to the painful heartbreak of an 8-7 loss in game 7 of the 2016 World Series (which I will not be linking here).
The Red Sox’s legacy has changed since Edward’s childhood, and the Sox have won four pennants since they broke the streak in 2004. But this is almost bittersweet. Her Gen Z daughter has witnessed these championships and now expect those wins; Edwards points out their faith in the team is different, and this new generation “wear their fandom more lightly than older generations.” If this is true, and if my Guardians ever happen to win another pennant, I think I’ll be sad to see some of that enthusiasm die alongside the losing streak.
The Wins We Don't Think About
But then there’s also the winning, and I don’t mean the joy that comes from watching a grand slam or from a late-game rally, but from the wins we don’t see, moments like the Little Leaguer hug. Behind the scenes ripples. Its ability, as Grünke and Martis argue, to be socially inclusive of people with learning disabilities (2020). Multiple elements give baseball this unique potential. Longer game times and more per-season games give fans with an LD extended opportunities to form positive relationships. Tickets are much cheaper than football or hockey games, which makes them more affordable for fans on a budget. Fan violence is much less common than during other sporting events, like soccer matches between teams with deep rivalries. There is more time for socializing between action, so there is room for conversation without missing the game.
I’ve heard countless complaints of “baseball is too long” and “baseball doesn’t have enough action,” so it’s heartwarming to see how these complaints are turned on their heads to make something meaningful for a different fanbase.
It all reminds me of one of the best lines in Moneyball, after another moment of real-life, on-the-field kindness: how can you not be romantic about baseball?
References:
Edwards, R. A. R. (2019). Fenway faithful: Or, all baseball is local. Nine: A Journal of Baseball History & Culture, 28(1/2), 14–19.
Grünke, M., & Martis, S. (2020). The inclusive power of baseball: How a game can help people with learning disabilities move away from the fringes of society. Insights into Learning Disabilities, 17(1), 87–97.
Juffer, J. (2006). Why we like to lose: On being a cubs fan in the heterotopia of Wrigley Field. South Atlantic Quarterly, 105(2), 289–301. https://doi-org.ezproxy.snhu.edu/10.1215/00382876-105-2-289
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