I feel guilty.
I consider myself a true American. I drive a giant Chevy, like apple pie and love freedom.
But I can’t say the same thing about baseball. The idea of “America’s pastime” does not resonate with me.
That bothers me. Last Thursday was Opening Day, but I was numb. My friend was excited in the hallway the night before, pretending to swing a bat. I was confused, because I had completely forgotten that the season started the next day.
Thursday was supposed to be greatest day of the year, and writers across the country repeated the same clichés they use each April: it was officially the end of winter, and players were dusting off their cleats, returning with high hopes and dreams.
But I didn’t feel anything. For me, it was just another Thursday. Am I missing something?
The problem is that I find baseball boring. I find it really, really boring. Here’s why.
First of all, there are so many little whims and antics during the games, and I find them incredibly disenchanting. Do you really have to adjust your batting gloves in between each swing? Let’s take a bunch of practice swings in the on-deck circle, take a few more as we step up to the plate, wait to get our signs from the third base coach, dig our back foot into the dirt, face the pitcher, wait for him to get his sign from the catcher, watch as the pitch goes by and then repeat the same process three or four more times.
As Yogi Berra once said, “It’s déjà vu all over again.”
Of course, we’ll see the occasional home run or diving catch. But when the majority of the action is void of real action, how exciting can it get? There’s more downtime in baseball than in any other sport. The game is too slow. It lacks the relentless contact and energy that sports like football and hockey have as their mantra.
Frankly, it’s about as stimulating as Nyquil.
The attitude of the players reflects this. Whenever I watch a baseball game, I am amazed at how many players are socializing in the dugout, chewing gum and seeds instead of watching the game. It’s like looking at Facebook instead of listening to lecture. Red Sox manager Terry Francona admitted to chewing over 70 pieces of Double Bubble in one game. Name another sport in which the head coach can sit on his butt for three hours and chew a bucket of gum. You can’t.
The players out on the field don’t make me feel any better. How many times do you see someone hit a pop-up and then lazily saunter over toward first base? Remember when Marlins’ shortstop Hanley Ramirez was benched last year for not hustling during a play? When the stars of the game lack effort, there’s a problem.
And the season is so obnoxiously long. Each team plays 162 games. With 30 teams, that’s a grand total of 4,860 games. That’s just ridiculous. Compare that to 82 games in the NHL, 82 in the NBA and 16 in the NFL.
Each game matters so much more in sports with fewer games. If a team starts off the season 0-4 in baseball, they have plenty of time to turn things around. But if a team is 0-4 in football, a quarter of the season is already over and their playoff hopes are dwindling.
Author Edward Abbey summed it up best: “Baseball is a slow, sluggish game, with frequent and trivial interruptions, offering the spectator many opportunities to reflect at leisure upon the situation on the field: This is what a fan loves most about the game.”
But fans should not be philosophers. Sports are not about reflecting. Sports are about excitement, strategy, energy and entertainment. Baseball has got it all wrong.
This is my confession.
America, I’m sorry if I have disappointed you.
Nick Fedyk is a freshman in the School of Foreign Service. Double NickTwist appears in every other Tuesday edition of Hoya Sports.
