As the COVID-19 pandemic continues unabated into the summer, Americans are grappling with the consequences. We remain justifiably concerned about the financial and health impacts and are beginning to realize that we are nowhere close to a resolution.
It’s likely to get worse than better. Our President, who has never been wrong about anything and is better at recognizing a picture of an elephant than anyone in recorded history, says so.
Along with the sickness and death and financial strain, the virus has taken a psychological toll, too. We are, by nature, social beings and restraints — either dictated or self-imposed — have left us all feeling a little isolated, maybe even lonely.
In times of chaos, we look for signs of normalcy, a reason to be optimistic.
For a lot of people, what happened Wednesday provided a little tonic for what ails us psychologically.
Eight Major League Baseball games were played Wednesday, marking the beginning of a season that normally begins in April.
It’s a much-truncated season to be sure. Instead of 162 games, teams will play just 60, most of them against division rivals. There will be no cross-country road trips. Of greater significance, all games will be played in empty stadiums.
Even so, it’s still baseball and that matters.
Each year, about 70 million people attend Major League Baseball games, which speaks to the games’ continuing popularity.
So, even though people cannot attend the games, the interest in them remains.
Those who aren’t baseball fans might be inclined to be dismissive of the significance of Wednesday’s Opening Day.
But historically, baseball — once considered “as American as apple pie” — remains a reliable institution.
Our nation has not faced times this uncertain since the opening days of World War II.
Back then, there was some question if baseball should resume, given the great challenge our nation faced. Some believed it unseemly to play the game as American boys were sent to the Pacific and Europe to fight and bleed and die.
There were misgivings even in the highest ranks of the game.
In January of 1942, just weeks after Pearl Harbor, Baseball Commissioner Kennesaw Landis asked President Roosevelt to make the decision on whether or not to continue with the 1942 season.
FDR responded with a resounding “yes.”
“I honestly feel that it would be best for the country to keep baseball going,” FDR wrote Landis. “There will be fewer people unemployed and everybody will work longer hours and harder than ever before. And that means that they ought to have a chance for recreation and for taking their minds off their work even more than before.”
The 1942 baseball season proceeded as scheduled using a mix of players too old or too young to serve or those deemed 4F and disqualified for service. That was the year that gave us Pete Brown, a one-armed outfielder with the St. Louis Browns. That a player with just one arm could make a big league roster tells you all you need to know about the quality of players available.
But it didn’t matter. People came, watched, cheered. For them, it was not just a diversion, it was a symbol of defiance, of persistence, and resiliency.
It was a belief that the struggles America faced, painful as they were, would someday end. America would recover. Baseball was a symbol of that unconquerable spirit.
Today, we face a different but no less grave challenge.
But America is playing baseball.
We ain’t licked yet. Not by a long shot.
Slim Smith is a columnist and feature writer for The Dispatch. His email address is ssmith@cdispatch.com.
Slim Smith is a columnist and feature writer for The Dispatch. His email address is ssmith@cdispatch.com.
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