Not even James Earl Jones wonderful soliloquy from Field of Dreams could shock people into caring about a game that is now alien and foreign to them.
Mighty Casey wouldn’t recognize Mudville anymore. If the mighty poetic slugger could be brought to opening day in 2010, nary a soul would see him strike out (baseball attendance is woeful).
America’s past time is dead. It is isn’t dying, it is dead. Baseball is a sport behind NFL football, NASCAR, college football, college basketball (around NCAA Tournament time), Mixed Marital Arts and World Wrestling Entertainment (just look at the numbers WWE gets for Monday Night Raw) in popularity.
The only sport baseball beats in popularity in America is the WNBA, but never doubt the power of 200,000 lesbians to pull their beloved sport ahead of “America’s game”. Certainly, Tiger Woods is more newsworthy than baseball.
Ratings are woefully, attendance -as stated – is dropping faster than Lehman Brothers and Bear Sterns stock and the media is doing everything possible to drum up interest in a game that not even the magical appearance of Shoeless Joe Jackson could resurrect.
Baseball is no longer a game played by Americans (for that matter, the nation of America is no longer a nation of Americans, as the realization that half of all births are non-white).
Black people have long since abandoned the game of baseball for the greener pastures of the NBA and the NFL (or, if that fails, prison or Federal Government employment).
As the first pitch of 2010 prepares to be thrown, Los Angeles Angels outfielder Torri Hunter has decided to prematurely fling his bat directly into the delicate – unmentionable – glass foundation of the racial dynamics of the MLB. Bemoaning the lack of Black players in the league, Hunter told USA Today: