Dear Baseball,
I am your typical fan. Do not worry, though; I am a typical fan of other matters of entertainment, as well. I am a typical fan of international soccer, the Avett Brothers, primetime television slots, etc. I have been a lifelong Braves fan. Guess you had other plans for us this year, right?
However, I would like to address an issue that haunts us typical baseball fans.
Speaking of primetime television slots, my relationship with you can best be compared to my relationship with the television series “Lost.” Previews for the show, equitable to spring training, were around for a while. Intrigue was produced, but no real fanaticism followed. Finally, the debut aired.
The opening of a great television series is as amiable as the aroma of your opening day. For months, or seasons, in this analogous television metaphor, my attention was primarily focused on the day-to-day occurrences on your diamond and the week-to-week struggle to survive and discover on the Island.
I was puzzled at the fact the Braves could be down eight games to the Marlins in June – although there were still a billion games left to play. As for Lost, I was puzzled at the fact that (insert any person, past happening, dietary preference, polar bear) had taken place.
Suddenly, at the end of season four and my two-week free trial of Netflix, all interest was lost. For baseball, the end of season four lies somewhere around the All-Star game. As the abrupt ending was unintentional with “Lost,” you were dropped with the best intentions. Our relationship was no longer benefitting me. You were transforming into a Harry Potter marathon for churchgoers against sorcery and “devil-worshipping.”
However, I would check in on you from time to time. SportsCenter provided me with some highlights and an up-to-date playoff race, and I reminisced to a time where you were enjoyable to watch. I would catch some episodes of Lost as well, only to be “lost” as hell. Truth is, I had a new interest, and she was even attractive in the preseason. Football was all that I could think about.
As a typical fan, I believe that I can speak for the typical fan base when I say, stop throwing yourself at us. It is desperate, and it does not bode well for your reputation. Your last-ditch efforts at stealing us back has included an entertaining postseason; but, honestly, honey, more people viewed the Bears/Lions game Monday night instead of your two offers, which even included the first postseason grand slam.
As I did view the last episode of “Lost,” I will most likely view the World Series. Sadly, I will probably only watch a couple of games and almost none in their entirety. For myself and the rest of the ADHD-ridden fan base out there, we have some advice.
First, why a 162-game season? Are you that vain? Lindsay Lohan does not steal the tabloid spotlight as tirelessly as you try to steal the sports spotlight. We are not looking for anything serious. We want to mingle. You have always been our late spring/early summer girl.
Second, speaking of vain, remove your title of “America’s Pastime.” No one appreciates a girl who struts around in her tiara and talks about winning Miss Flat River Creek when she was fourteen. Besides, it has been a solid twenty years since your title. You are becoming a “Toddlers and Tiaras” mom.
Third, have you ever played MLB Slugfest? It would be interesting to turn baseball into a full contact sport for a game or two. Think of things to up your sex appeal in these trying times.
Baseball, we do appreciate you. You are loyal to the United States. You provide the most entertaining, nationally televised sporting event for twelve-year-olds. You have provided other sports with reliable negotiating procedures – ahem, NBA. However, this typical fan and many others out there cannot continue to pretend that you’re our one and only.
Tyler Rigdon is a sophomore majoring in broadcast journalism and economics. His column runs biweekly on Mondays.
