It
isn’t easy to admit when you stop loving something. There is a sense of
commitment to it even after the joy is gone. Falling out of love has been a
long and slow process for me. It didn’t happen because a singular event ripped
us apart. I am not hurt or angry. It happen because I changed and so did
baseball, and we no longer match each other. It happened because the Mariners
results didn’t change and the future doesn’t look bright. Baseball and the
Seattle Mariners just aren’t for me anymore.
I remember when my disillusion with the Mariners started. It was
2013 when the Astros joined the AL West. The Astros were one of the worst teams
in baseball for several years running. They lost over one hundred games in both
2011 and 2012. In 2013 they would finish 51-111. Yet against the Mariners they
went 9-10. In their six matchups in April, when the season
was still young and there was hope for the M’s, the Astros went 4-2. It was
very disheartening seeing the Seattle Mariners get outplayed by the worst team
in Major League Baseball. It really broke my passion for the Mariners. It
showed me they really were a cursed/pathetic/hopeless organization.
Over the next five
years the Mariners weren't even terrible; they never lost 90+ games. But they
also weren’t good and they continued to no one’s surprise to miss the playoffs.
The Mariners were stale. There were some fun times (Dae Ho Lee!) to be sure. However
there was also a lot of the same old thing. The Mariners would start slow,
start to climb back up the standings and then collapse right when it started to
get interesting.
My
cynicism for the Mariners didn’t end my enjoyment of baseball in immediately.
That happened more gradually. There wasn’t a single event that made me lose
interest. Instead it was just a slow
steady decline resulting in where I am now. Baseball is boring to me.
The games don’t hold my attention anymore. Nothing happens
for long stretches of the game. Most of the time you are just watching someone
in the batters box fail to put the ball in play. Batters strikeout about a
quarter of plate appearances (league median is 22.3%)
Additionally,
players and managers have realized the value of walks and try to maximize them
which leads to taking more pitches and earning more walks (8.5% of plateappearances in 2018.) combine these two trends and it means players don’t put
the ball in play around a third of the time.
Then
there are the constant commercial breaks (inning changes, pitcher changes, in
game trips to the mound.) It often feels like there is more time not watching
baseball then actually seeing the sport. (I must see five Lee Johnson Mazda ads
per game. ) I feel like I know the advertising jingles better than the players.
The playoffs (not that Mariners fans would know) are even worse. The games can
easily last four hours, and the networks broadcasting them try to cram as many
ads as possible in. It ruins what could be an exciting playoff system. Instead
of the broadcast amplifying the tension and drama of the game it does the
opposite by cutting away and showing promos for some new sitcom.
With
all of this downtime one of the main things to do, while you watch Kyle Seager
take another strike two, is listen to the commentators talk about how great
Kyle Seager is and how he is really going to come out of his slump soon, maybe
right now. The Mariners broadcast can be unctuous. They pride themselves on
being fans, but they fail to call out the bad play or decisions the team has
continued to make for 15 years (I won’t hold 2002 or 2003 against them.) for a
team that wasn’t so laughably inept it would be acceptable, but the Mariners
are one of the most consistently bad teams in the major American sports
leagues. They hold longest active streaks for missing the playoffs. If they
played in another market with more media coverage nationally they would be a
laughing stock, instead they are just irrelevant. The announcers need to be
able to admit the reality the fans are watching.
I
may sound bitter or mad, but I am not. I am just realistic about what the sport
and my home team have become for me. I don’t think I am leaving on bad terms. I
have filled my summer evening with other hobbies and I am sure we will still
see each other from time to time. The Mariner’s home field is still beautiful
and hard to resist on a nice summer evening. Sitting on the first base side of
the stands and looking out over the left field bleachers as the sun sets is
special. I also don’t expect other diehards to follow my lead or even
agree with me. My experience of falling out with baseball is personal. Baseball
holds a special place in the hearts and minds of many people. It is nearly
synonymous with summer for some fans. It was this way for me once, but not
anymore.
Baseball
I don’t love you anymore.
