We’re almost to the All-Star Game, the halfway point of the Major League Baseball season. In my mind, we can already draw two conclusions.
One is disheartening: the Royals’ season is over. The boys in blue have played 88 games so far and managed to lose 63 of them. At twenty games behind the first place Twins in the American League Central, the Royals can’t even see a team that has only won two more games than it’s lost. They’re one loss away from the worst record in baseball, a dubious honor held by the Oakland A’s, whose fans are boycotting the team due to their proposed move to Vegas.
The second brings hope: this year’s changes to Major League Baseball are a success.
At the start of this season, the league rolled out three big changes: a pitch clock, bigger bases, and limits on defensive shifts. The pitch clock’s the big one. Dead time has been sucked out of the game. In fact, average game time this season is 2 hours, 38 minutes, down 31 minutes from last year. Hits are up. Stolen bases are up. Runs are up. Baseball is doing more with less.
Fans are loving it. Attendance was up 4.5% through the first half of the season. That may not sound like a lot, but attendance had been dipping for years. And more fans are tuning into games. ESPN reports their baseball viewership is up 7% from last year. Fox and MLB.TV have also reported more viewers. This comes on the heels of last year’s World Series drawing the second-lowest audience ever.
Perhaps the best article covering this resurgence is “How Baseball Saved Itself,” written by Mark Leibovich of The Atlantic. It was the cover story of the July/August edition of the magazine.
Leibovich thought he was setting out to compose baseball’s obituary, writing, “Baseball had a great run, a nice century. Boxing used to be huge too. Times change, tastes veer, attention spans shrink. Cultural gems become cultural relics. It’s no one’s fault; we move on to new things.” Sad, but true: America’s pastime was dead.
Leibovich spoke with several of the higher ups in MLB who saw the writing on the wall: year after year of lower batting averages, longer game times and plummeting attendance. They had to do something. Miraculously, what they did worked.
And no one’s complaining. Well, a few people are, as some always do. They lament how now that the game moves quicker, you might actually miss something while in line at concessions. Others say stadiums need to extend beer sales because the game moves quicker. Parents, meanwhile, roll their eyes. It’s now possible to take the kids to an entire baseball game, something that hasn’t happened in a generation.
As I read Leibovich’s article, I kept thinking about Iola. People say the same things about baseball as they do about small towns. We’re a relic of the past. We’re dying. Boring. No future. Nobody’s fault, really—we just haven’t been able to keep pace with the times.
Considering what baseball did to improve the game, I think there are questions worth asking: How can we quicken Iola’s pace? How can we return to what we do best? It’s not about trying to become something completely different. Sure, purists will always object to change, but if baseball can do it, why can’t we?
Quality housing, strong schools, dynamic small businesses, great healthcare, renewable energy and charging stations, outdoor dining, a community recycling program, a vibrant arts community—these come to mind as opportunities akin to larger bases and a pitch clock. Baseball didn’t try to become football. The changes weren’t revolutionary. 4.5% growth isn’t huge. But it’s something. It’s progress.
Leibovich ends his article, which you really should read, this way: “The idea is that baseball needs to attract new fans. But there’s a parallel notion here, with life lessons embedded. Change can invigorate at any age. It’s important to keep traditions, and base runners, moving. Obsolescence is a choice.”
Let’s play ball.
