A masked man in a skimpy spandex suit and off-white briefs should never set foot on a professional baseball field.
The desire exhibited by the UCSD baseball team is becoming less frequent on the professional level, as Major League games resort to gimmicks and promotions to attract fans.
Nonetheless, this was the scene during a recent afternoon outing to Petco Park for a Padres game, in which Nickelodeon — a network that has seen better days — forked over enough money to promote Jack Black’s latest flick, “Nacho Libre,” to the paying Padres patrons. Apparently Nickelodeon’s check was substantial enough to allow the network to send one of the silly looking characters to the pitcher’s mound to throw out the ceremonial first pitch. While this despicable act may have been forgivable, it was the first of the day’s many transgressions that soured my taste for the circus formerly known as Major League Baseball.
I cannot recall experiencing something as outlandish as the masked Nacho creature in my childhood excursions to the ballpark, or anything that even came close. Perhaps the transformation is a result of the impoverished Padres’ attempt to cater to a wider demographic, but baseball has always been a family affair. Management is trying to appeal to the generation of children born in the ’90s, but in doing so, they’re tarnishing the quality of the professional baseball experience.
This current generation of 8-year-olds to pubescent teens demands immediate gratification and constant visual stimuli at the threat of a merciless temper tantrum, which is the impetus for the transition from the laid-back feel of a ballgame to the in-your-face, something’s-always-gotta-be-happening extravaganza that a trip to the ballpark has become. While I understand the need to appease the crowd, the Padres have gone too far in their latest ploys to increase ticket sales.
In addition to the “Nacho” first pitch, the Padres handed out Nacho-styled Padres wrestling masks to the first 10,000 kids under 14 years old. While it is already an unfortunately far cry from the free batting helmet giveaways of yesteryear, this ridiculous promotion has nothing to do with baseball. Magnet schedules are wonderful and trading cards are a treasure, but ugly wrestling masks are suffocating devices that turn cute-looking kids into mutants.
The ordeal wasn’t finished in the least; a break between innings led to a footrace between two Padres mascots and the aforementioned “Nacho” foe. Naturally, at the expense of the Padres’ dignity, Nacho prevailed after violently shoving the “Fathers” to the ground. Amid high-pitched cheering from the clearly excited youth, I remembered the Pittsburgh Pirates’ Randall Simon incident from almost three years ago, and marked the similarity between the two events. Simon, who knocked a racing Milwaukee Brewers “Brew Crew” mascot with his bat, received a fine and faced ridicule from the media. Nacho received no punishment, and his actions suggested to many young San Diegans that cheaters do prosper. While Simon’s incident was clearly assault and Nacho’s was probably planned, Nacho’s actions are a testament to the cheap and irrelevant thrills that kids get at the game.
While I wish I could say that the “Nacho” takeover was a one-time occurrence and that the Padres’ operations will return to normal, I fear that this new wave of supplementary entertainment in the professional baseball experience has already ingrained itself beyond repair. Spirit squads on the field excite otherwise uninterested fans between innings by flinging cheap T-shirts into the crowd; the announcer encourages Verizon Wireless customers to text message a number to select whether Bob Dylan, the Beatles or Laffy Taffy will be played at the next break (guess which song won); the Jumbotron flashes a decibel meter during a lull in play so the fans can think they’re energized and concerned about the game. Although many of the fans actually do follow the game and filter out these useless externalities, it is distressing that other patrons need these devices to tell them to be entertained.
Unfortunately for baseball, it seems as if these outside distractions have seeped onto the field and into the game as never before. Perhaps I’m paranoid and fear the worst, but at the “Nacho” game, I noticed that many of the players were lifeless and unexcited about the game. Hardly anyone ran out to their positions, used two hands when catching a pop-fly or showed any fervor for the game. There seemed to be less hustle and more swagger — a swagger that was generally unearned. The players should play the game hard; there is no excuse for lazy and passionless play. After all, the players’ emerging lackadaisical spirit wasn’t the attitude that got them to the Big Show in the first place.
Perhaps the solution to stopping the disintegration of Major League Baseball is to return to its roots, where baseball dominates the stage and the extras are inconspicuously absent.
A UCSD baseball game is an excellent example of a fun time devoid of everything except the game. The atmosphere is lively, but not contrived; the fans are social, but not distracted from the game; the players swagger, but only slightly and only after a big victory. The games are more personal and more meaningful. In fact, the Tritons completed their most recent campaign with a 35-24 record and reached the California Collegiate Athletic Association tournament. This finish is statistically better than the cellar-dwelling Padres, who are just over .500 with a record of 27-25. While Triton Baseball Field may not have the same allure as Petco Park, the UCSD baseball team can certainly provide more authentic baseball entertainment than the carnival of Major League Baseball.
Maybe the standards of entertainment have changed, but a baseball game should be able to carry itself as a performance that fans come to see. It’s obvious that the barrage of advertisements in professional baseball is a necessary evil; baseball is an interesting microeconomy that requires supply to meet demand. What is difficult to understand is the quality of the gimmicks that are appearing in Major League ballparks today in order to lure an audience that would rather watch Spongebob than experience America’s pastime. Hopefully there will be a resurgence of those who wish to return to the good ol’ days — which aren’t yet so old — when baseball was sacrosanct and Jack Black was the leader of the Nasties — not the Nachos — in “The Neverending Story III.”
