Opening Day. There was a time when those very words conjured a giddy thrill in my bones. “Maybe this will be the year,” my bones spoke. This year, my bones are just tired. Maybe it’s because I’ve been running myself ragged lately, doing both my day job and book promotion at a breakneck pace, but I think it’s something deeper than that. I’m not the kind of fan I used to be. Don’t get me wrong: I would love my team to win a World Series, but I’m really just looking forward to watching baseball, listening to the best broadcast team in the game, and talking to my friends about this beautiful sport for the next six months. We can do that, win or lose.
Baseball has become less of an obsession for me and more of an opportunity to self-reflect, self-improve, and maybe even self-actualize. It’s something I want to enjoy. A radical concept, I know. A little healthy optimism is a good thing, but not if it leads to crushing disappointment. Instead, I’m going to focus on the five things I can do this year to have a happy and mentally healthy baseball season. Here they are, my 5 Baseball Commandments for 2024.
Thou shalt not only watch the Mets
Last year, I bought the MLB.TV package, which allowed me to watch any game I wanted. The plan was to deepen my love for baseball, not just for the Mets, by watching other teams play. I could watch Shohei Ohtani all season long! I could watch rookie phenoms make their mark and crafty old veterans try to hang on! Maybe I’ll get to watch a no-hitter! I didn’t do any of that. I’m not sure I watched a single non-Mets game until the playoffs. And you know what? I missed a lot of good baseball.
Dissociating from the Mets has been an important part of my journey as a fan, so I’m recommitting this year. I will be a baseball fan, not just a Mets fan. I will broaden my horizons. I will use that damn subscription I just paid $120 for (again).
Thou shalt not jump to conclusions on thy team
The season is long. It’s easy to get overly confident or terribly depressed when your team has played only a handful of games, but every smart ball man will tell you that you can’t really take stock of your team until Memorial Day. I’m committing to waiting until the All-Star break. Sure, the Mets have teased me too many times with a successful April, a middling May, and a June swoon, but this is about becoming a better fan and the key to that is to take a deep breath, relax, and allow things to play out. Life is long, and so is the baseball season. Take it one day at a time.
Similarly, thou shalt not rush to judgment on the new rules
I made a bit of a fool of myself last spring with my incessant complaining about how the new rules were destroying baseball’s soul. By the end of the year, I’d held my ground on just one of them, the rule allowing only three “disengagements” by the pitcher. The pitch clock? I got used to it when the pitchers did. Within a couple of months, they found their rhythms, and I barely noticed the clock anymore. The bigger bases? Pfft. What bigger bases? They looked exactly the same.
This year, they are tightening the pitch clock even more (with men on base), and have created a new rule penalizing defenders who attempt to block a base with any part of their body. The former rule should be fine, but the latter may cause some hiccups, as it has in spring training. I pledge to give the players time to adjust before I declare baseball dead again.
Thou shalt stay in the present
This commandment is related to but distinct from Commandment #2. It’s not just about taking it day by day. I’m also committed to not obsessing about the future. Tracking prospects (i.e. young players who have not yet made the major leagues) has become as big a part of baseball coverage as the games themselves. We get so excited when a young guy is crushing fastballs or throwing heaters in the minors that we just kind of assume they’ll be able to do the same thing in the majors, even though history has told us even top prospects sometimes don’t work out. It’s fun to dream on a young player, but our eyes have tilted too far in that direction. The future has overtaken the present. This year, I’ll keep an eye on the minors, but I’m not going to put too much stock in what anyone is doing down there. It doesn’t count until they get to the big leagues, anyway. I don’t want to sacrifice the present for a future that may not even come.
Thou shalt not boo thy players
Last year, a beautiful thing happened. The Phillies’ top free agent acquisition Trea Turner was having a down year. In the first half of the season, he played the worst baseball of his career. It’s not uncommon. Free agents who have just signed big contracts often try too hard to live up to them, with predictably poor results. It seemed like a recipe for a long, ugly relationship between Turner and the famously grumpy Philly fans. Instead, something amazing happened. In an early August game, they gave him a standing ovation in his first at-bat. It was an idea hatched on social media that spread like wildfire. Let’s encourage our players, instead of dumping on them.
It worked. Turner was on fire for the rest of the season, carrying the team deep into the playoffs. It was genuinely one of the more beautiful things I’ve seen on a baseball field. It made me wish my team would do that, not just because it produces a better result but because it encourages a happier fanbase. I’ve long wondered if the panic in the Mets’ fan base influences the play on the field. If the players tighten up because they know booing is coming. There’s no real way to measure that, but I’m fine erring on the side of being kinder.
Honesty time: While I’m not a boo-er by nature, sometimes when I’m at a game, my frustration gets the better of me, and I let my team have it. I’m not proud of it, but it happens. This year, I’m committing. No booing. Every time I feel the urge, I’m going to turn that smile upside down and support my guys. If Phillies fans can do it, so can I.
I’ll try to follow all these rules too (except must change the first one to Seattle Mariners). I hope you’ll be able to enjoy my favorite closer this year.
Oh, I needed that, Noah! Committing to being kinder, to the things we’re passionate about, to the folks making it happen, to ourselves in the end.
Thank you.