I love baseball like I love George Carlin.
But only at the start of the weekend,  when I found myself in Row A
down the Dodger Stadium left-field line Dodger Stadium  shouting,
“Cleveland rocks!” at the top of my lungs did I feel as though I’m
sometimes too hard on the game.

Extra innings were over. My beloved Cleveland Indians had beaten my almost as beloved Senior Circuit franchise 6-4. I’d gone crazy with the screamin’ and the hollerin' and whatnot, all but physically sparring with my boys — who live and die with Ye Olde Brooklyn Trolley Dodgers. And when the Tribe of my youth beat L.A. in its first-ever trip to Chavez Ravine I let out something — but only something — like a war cry. It felt awesome, like clowning Giants’ fans did last year when my Dodgers swept them in SF.

That’s why I felt a little sad about what was said early that day. I’d mocked Major League Baseball a bit because of its creeping irrelevance among young Americans.
It's sort of offensive to me the sports administrators and marketers
are content to narrow its audience and feast off the disposable income
of aging boomers. Isn't baseball supposed to be the national pastime?

Here’s is where explanation is needed: It’s not like I haven’t been critical of MLB in the past. I got a lotta beef with Bud Selig and he crew. (Really. You are not even knowing.) But the spirit of my Friday morning public radio comments did not sit well with me on the sojourn out of Dodger Stadium.

Now, I wasn’t regretting the floating of a notion about the game developing a 24-second clock; no, that shit was mad funny.

My
contextualization just could have been better. No doubt, demographic
studies show MLB to be on a steady wane of popularity among kids. And
the World Series ratings are low outside of major East Coast cities and
participating teams’ markets. But MLB actually has a much greater
viewership than traditional Neilsen ratings suggest. Its hardcore fan
base — mature earners — follows its teams on cable and, increasingly,
online. Measuring the game’s popularity from Game of the Week ratings
went out with Joe Garagiola.

Most importantly, there’s the
baseball itself. Awesome in its leisurely spectacle. (Dodgers fans, who
now leave early, as though Eric Gagne never happened, are surprisingly idiotic.  Remember when they had that cartoonish Padres comeback that
ended with Nomar’s game-winner? If I wanna be critical of the Dodgers,
please let me. I’m a fan, and sometimes what you need to hear isn’t
what you want to hear.)

Friday’s game didn’t even really
start until the 7th inning, when a good third of the stadium was on its
way to I-5. I know inter-league play leaves Dodgers fans at an
information disadvantage, but aren’t they aware that any game in which
Cleveland closer Joe Borowski is likely to pitch is a game the opponent can win?
That’s when things got fun, in those putative closing innings.
Baseball’s amazing in the sense that time can’t bail you out. (See,
that thing about a 24-second clock really was a joke.) You’ve got to finish. Finish strong. Just like my beloved Fresno State baseball team.

Just like me. With this blog I am done.