It's Selection Time

Autumn is here, the frost is on the pumpkin, the back-to-school sales are over, and the culmination of a long and bitterly fought contest is upon us. The official festivities began 10 months ago, but the planning and backroom bartering began long before that; in fact, they never really stopped from last time. But at last the end is near.

The race began with many contenders. They moved from city to city with their entourages, drawing crowds and cheers, passing out autographs and handshakes, and having their pictures taken with children and local officials, each one dogged every step of the way by the constant glare of the news media spotlight. Reporters and TV cameras were there to record every word, and to publicize every misstep and sign of division or indecision. Each contender was hoping to put together, piece by piece and day by day, the winning combination of personnel and strategy, and the all-important momentum that would carry them through to the final test in the fall.

They had their strengths and weaknesses. Some had a lot of money to throw around, while others scraped to stay in the running; some were too inexperienced and unseasoned, while others were said to be too old; some seemed to have everything going for them except the burning desire it takes to win. They had their own styles, some flashy and slick, others stodgy and dull. Each contender had a somewhat different approach, but in the end they were all playing the same game, and playing it to win.

As the year wore on it became a grinding test of nerve and stamina, and we were all drawn into the drama. We sat glued to our TV sets, waiting for the latest returns. We were bombarded with statistics and trivia about the contenders' personal lives, their families, even their dogs and cats. As the contest came into focus, we began to choose sides and root for our favorites, some hoping against hope for the underdog, some riding high with the front-runner, others simply sticking with the hometown or regional favorite. We have lived our lives through them, suffering their defeats and embarrassments and enjoying the vicarious thrill of their triumphs.

But now the sentimental favorites, the perennial contenders, and the hometown heroes have fallen by the wayside. We approach the end of the ordeal, the climactic battle in which the last survivors will vie for final supremacy. People all over the world will watch the outcome, waiting anxiously to see who will be the best America has to offer the world.

Some among us have expressed serious misgivings about the contest. They say it's boring and too long, or that the whole thing is controlled by big business. Some have even said of the final contestants that "there's not a dime's worth of difference between the two." They even say it doesn't matter who wins. That attitude is a good example of the kind of easy cynicism that is eroding our national character.

After all, we are talking about the World Series here, and it matters a great deal who wins. If the Kansas City Royals win, we will be at the mercy of the grain monopolies, agribusiness giants, and the beef industry--not to mention the dangers posed by unleashing K.C. third baseman George Brett, of whom one observer has said, "He hits like the neutron bomb; he demolishes the opposition but leaves the stadium intact."

If Pittsburgh wins, will we suffer under the tyranny of the Steel Industry Pirates?

One possibility this year is a Series between the Houston Astros and the New York Yankees. It could be that the final showdown between the Eastern Establishment dynasty of Wall Street and the emerging oil, uranium, and microelectronics power of the Sun Belt is coming up in the next month. And some say it makes no difference.

The Cincinnati Reds are serious contenders again for the first time in several years. This fall could bring domination by the Red Menace before we've even decided what shape tracks to put the M-X on.

At this writing the Los Angeles Dodgers are still in the race. We could be under the thumb of Hollywood and the TV industry. Do any of us want to live in a nation dominated by the city that gave us Three's Company, Real People, and The Battle of the Network Stars? Only the actors' strike could save us.

It is a very real possibility that this year's World Series will be won by the Montreal Expos. The Canadians have already had to rescue our national honor once this year in Iran. What will it do to our self-esteem to have our national pastime dominated by a team from another country?

If those possibilities don't represent enough of a choice for you, both leagues are always adding expansion teams like the Seattle Mariners or the Toronto Blue Jays. Unfortunately, the expansion teams are a lot like John Anderson's presidential campaign. They're made up almost entirely of washed-up veterans like Pat Lucey, misfits, and castoffs from the existing teams; and they have very little chance of winning the big one.

You can see that the choices are real in this race and the stakes perilously high. And it's more than just the particular teams involved. The two teams that will end up in the Series represent two leagues that are as different as night and day. You could almost say they are as different as Time and Newsweek, Coke and Pepsi, McDonald's and Burger King, or even Democrats and Republicans.

For example, in the American League the umpires wear their chest protectors inside their shirts and in the National League they wear them on the outside. They even use different rules. In the National League they let the pitcher bat, while the American League has what they call the designated hitter rule. The best way to explain the designated hitter rule is to say that it is a lot like the Kemp-Roth tax cut plan. It is designed to infuse the game with more runs while eliminating the least productive players from getting a chance to hit at all.

Even with such clear-cut alternatives, for some the questions still linger. They wonder if maybe we couldn't learn something from the Japanese League or the Mexican League. It has even been reported that they play a pretty good brand of ball in Cuba and that admission to the ballpark is free.

But the greatest danger facing our professional baseball system is not the criticism of a handful of dissidents. The real danger this year is that millions of ordinary Americans might be distracted from the most important contest of the fall by the presidential election. We must not allow ourselves to be lured away from the hard choices of balls and strikes by the escapism of the debates, flowery speeches, and extravagant promises of the campaigns.

So this year, as the day of reckoning approaches, let's all rise to sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." And let's rededicate ourselves to stopping the baseball draft, supporting the ERA, and curbing the powers of the RBI.

Danny Collum and field correspondents Joyce Hollyday and Jim Stentzel were on the editorial staff at Sojourners when this article appeared.