“Ebbets Field was a narrow cockpit, built of brick and
iron and concrete, alongside a steep cobblestone slope of Bedford Avenue. Two
tiers of grandstand pressed the playing area from three sides, and in thousands
of seats fans could hear a ball player’s chatter, notice details of a ball
player’s gait and, at a time when television had not yet assaulted illusion
with the Zoomar lens, you could see, you could actually see, the actual
expression on the actual face of an actual major leaguer as he played. You
could know what he was like!”—Sportswriter Roger Kahn (1927-2020), The Boys of Summer (1972)
Sorry, folks, but what we’re seeing now, with a
midyear opening, is fake baseball—meaningless games without fans, atmosphere
and even a full schedule to compare team and individual results against those
posted in other seasons. As far as I’m concerned, the cry of woebegone Brooklyn
Dodger fans who once made Ebbets Field their psychic home makes a whole lot of
sense: “Wait till next year!”
Yet one more reason to curse COVID-19 and the public leaders who, through inaction and/or wishful thinking, enabled it...
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