SAY MY NAME, SAY MY NAME

MLB has unveiled their “Players Weekend” jerseys and the whole thing just comes off as gimicky

MLB.com

On the positive side, I actually really do like the idea of players designing the jerseys that they will wear for the weekend. It adds a personal touch and that’s something I can get behind. I wish my home town Blue Jays had somehow incorporated their vintage powder blue into their design, but that’s another story.

I guess at the root of my dislike for these jerseys is my belief that a nickname should happen organically, not through a targeted marketing campaign. Not every player has a nickname as you can clearly see by some of the last minute additions to yesterdays big reveal. (only in rare cases does adding the letter Y your last name constitute a nickname) I also believe that through this campaign, baseball is unnaturally forcing us to look at MLB players in the the same way that we view NBA players, a league where individual personalities are king.

The pathway for MLB to market not only players but their personalities as well always hits the same roadblock on the same stretch of road. The institution of baseball doesn’t yet want players to truly be themselves and seems almost incapable of reconciling it’s rich history with the people that play the game now. If you take a close look at baseball there is clearly a movement happening, one towards individuality and away from the unspoken rule that players just play and should only distinguish themselves from one another by the level of their play. This is definitely happening but it’s also being met with resistance every step of the way. Every time something green sprouts up there is an old farmer to spray herbicide on it.

As a fan I want to see players express emotion. I want to see confrontation and rivalries and expressions of joy and anger. If those elements were to be eradicated I probably wouldn’t watch nearly as much as I do. The whole idea of being a fan revolves around living vicariously through what’s happening on the field. You get to be the manager who is faced with a tough late inning decision. For a moment you get to the be the pitcher who pumps his fists after a strikeout that extricates the team from a tight situation. You get to be the player flipping the bat in triumph or you get to nurse the same grudge as the pitcher who gave it up.

In short, let the players market themselves. The NBA has been doing this for decades and it’s what makes the league so fascinating and entertaining. There is no longer an off season because the drama of who is going where and what alliances are being formed have become as captivating as the season itself. Baseball’s biggest problem isn’t the time of games, juiced balls or the umpires strike zone. It’s that the league sometimes just can’t get out it’s own way.

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