I’m going to make a deal with you, reader. After this blog I am going to write solely about the things the Mariners players do during games for the rest of the season, however long that may last. It’s going to be fun, and I’m excited about it. 

Maybe I’ll write about Ty France, for whom the colloquialism “all he does is hit” seems to have been tailor-made. I’m thinking I’ll take a look into Justus Sheffield, and how his development is a huge positive both in itself and for other pitchers in the Mariners’ system. Maybe, just maybe, we can take a real good look at Kyle Lewis, who has become perhaps the best story on the Mariners since 2015 Franklin Gutierrez, a one-man wellspring of joy, and quite possibly the heir to the Mariners proud center field legacy.

I’m going to do that. I promise. But after this blog. Because this blog is about fire, smoke, and the power of engineered incompetence. I will try to keep it brief.

*****

The Mariners and A’s played a doubleheader Monday. It wasn’t a real doubleheader, because in 2020 doubleheader games only last seven innings each. That’s ok, because all they are chasing are fictitious playoff spots made up to justify a longer, farcical postseason in order to make up for a sham regular season. The year’s manifold crises have given Rob Manfred carte blanche to open up the sport’s hood and make it look like something from Pimp My Ride. We’ve got gaudy runners starting innings at second base, 47 playoff spots, 60-game seasons, seven inning games, the works. Push this red button and the back head rest flips around, revealing a 29th roster spot. Baby this thing is fresh!

The impetus for all this gauche remodeling is, of course, the chaos of the COVID-19 pandemic, and that’s exactly why the teams were playing a doubleheader in the first place. We have to make up these games, and we have to get them in in time for the playoffs, and we have to get the playoffs in before Fall and Winter bring the disease back with a vengeance. The financial well being of the league is at stake! (Do not consider, please, that the Wilpon Family, who almost certainly serve at least partially as inspiration for the family in the show Succession, stand to make $2 billion dollars off the Mets simply by owning them for less than two decades).

Of course, as the globe is creaking under the weight of humanity’s recklessness, literal fires have popped up. It’s difficult to use my typical hyperbole to illustrate just how awful the air quality has been in the Northwest for the past week and a half. Today, Wednesday, we are celebrating that the AQI has moved from “very unhealthy” to “unhealthy”. I am a largely healthy 30-something man with no underlying health issues, and walking my dog for a half hour in the mornings has led to a sore throat, burning eyes, and a sporadic cough.

And yet, despite public health officials warning all residents of the Puget Sound region to stay indoors with the windows closed, the Mariners and A’s played 14 innings of baseball on Monday. There was no excuse for this. None. The air quality did not suddenly worsen, there was no forecast anywhere near the time of first pitch that called for improvement throughout the day. If there had been, simply delaying the start of the games would have allowed for improved air quality. Everyone knew exactly what they were asking the players to do, and they just didn’t care.

This is the modus operandi for Rob Manfred’s MLB. As others have said, there is no issue facing the league they will not ignore until after the fact, and then only if enough people cause a fuss about it. 

The A’s, to the consternation of some, caused a bit of a fuss. Game one starter Jesus Lazardo, who was terrific until the fifth inning, said afterwards he was “gasping for air.” A day later, Tony Kemp said many could “feel phlegm in their throat.” Bob Melvin summed it up:

As the games were progressing, I began asking questions. I don’t have great contacts or anything, I am naught but a humble fan blogger, but I poked around. I wanted to know: Who made the decision to play? What was the process that led to the decision? Who was consulted? What were the primary considerations made that led to the decision to put the players, who are already playing during a pandemic and conditioned very early to put their personal health secondary to performing on the field, in a situation so obviously unhealthy?

There were no answers. One source said “We were told it was the league, but I don’t know if I believe that.” It wasn’t until Tuesday, when enough people both in and outside of the sport had raised concerns, that the league, through its well-vetted reporters, began offering clues into what had allowed the games to take place. Late yesterday it was offered, finally, that indeed the decision had been left to the teams themselves. 

The next day’s game, and series, with the San Francisco Giants was moved to San Francisco. It was moved after the Giants had already flown into Seattle. It was done with the same level of foresight, thoughtfulness, and tact as the decision to play the day before had: very, very little. Kevin Mather’s statement on the decision, again, offered scarce details, and a very casual alignment with facts. They are, after all, America’s Team:

It could not be clearer that the health and well being of the players is anything but the first priority of either the Mariners or the league. MLB has spent the entirety of this awful year doing nothing but using its many tragedies and horrors as convenient leverage to gut minor league baseball, shorten games, expand the postseason, lay off staff, and every other means of profit extraction it can think of. They will vacuum up, part out, and sell off every single aspect of the game without consideration to past or future, health or safety. 

It is on everyone outside this corporate bubble; players, fans, and media, to hold them accountable at every turn, and demand better. We must re-frame our lens for experiencing this sport away from team allegiance, and towards a player-centric ideal. More than ever, we gotta love these guys, because no one else will.