30 versions of one game

If you engage (even casually) with the big US Sports news outlets like ESPN, Fox Sports or Bleacher Report, you could be forgiven for assuming that the NFL is a 52-week season.

It dominates the coverage here. “There is no offseason in the NFL” is the all-too-common cliché. Right now, much of downtown Chicago is covered in banners promoting the upcoming NFL Draft, which is to be hosted in the city. This is despite the fact the Blackhawks are in the Stanley Cup playoffs, and the Cubs and White Sox have started their seasons with great aplomb.

The NFL infatuates this country. Consequently, some pundits have lamented the fact that “America’s Pastime” (baseball, not to be confused with “America’s Game,” which is American football) is becoming a fading entity, and many think that, at the very least, it is only important within regional contexts. The latter is more the reality, and, as a recent new resident to Chicago, I can argue baseball is certainly alive.

When I went to Wrigley Field last weekend for my first Cubs game, I couldn’t quite grasp the notion of baseball’s demise. It’s comical when Americans talk about baseball being “too slow” and the next generation failing to connect with the game.

Having attended Adelaide Oval Test matches since I was five years old, I’m unsympathetic to game length complaints. But I adore the long form of the game (and loathe T20). So watching baseball is hardly an arduous task. I digress, however.

Wrigleyville was packed, and the sun was beaming, although at 17 degrees Celcius, it wasn’t that warm. But then again, this is a city where I was out once in -28. Needless to say, every bad tattoo choice was on show. It reminded me of the first cool day of the autumn in Adelaide when I was at university. My friend and I would laugh at all the overreacting girls in full cable knit sweaters and scarves when the temperature dropped. But I digress, again.

The bars around the field were packed with beer-guzzling fans. At one bar I ordered a Brooklyn Summer Ale and was (probably rightfully) mocked.

What struck me about the whole experience at Wrigley, apart from the uncanny parallels to pre-AFL era Adelaide Oval (rest in peace you beautiful, beautiful thing), was that baseball was not losing any prominence in the mind of these Americans, and many across the country.

If anything, the fans were more deeply connected to the game, but just in their city. Fans discussed at length the Cubs’ chances in October, but not about any of the other 29 teams. Not even crosstown rivals the White Sox.

I’ve always been a Red Sox fan, yet have somewhat adopted the Cubs since my move here. When I try and steer any conversation to out-of-town teams at bars, I realise it’s a futile effort as the eyes of the other drinker glaze over and their hand twitch for their phone. But it could just be me in general.

Our eyes and ears are far more national in Australia. As cricket fans, we basically are forced to know what’s happening in NSW all the time, and, of course, it doesn’t matter how poor the form of the traditional Victorian sides in the AFL, we always are aware of what’s going on.

Does that make us more knowledgeable and well-rounded sports fans in Australia? Of course.

With sickeningly large amounts of money being distributed to teams with new media deals, it seems Major League Baseball is cashing in on the trend of decentralisation.

The Dodgers famously started their own local channel in February 2014 with a 25-year deal worth in excess of $8 billion with Time Warner. The Yankees have YES Network (which the team owns 20 per cent of, Fox the other 80 per cent) and the Red Sox have NESN (team owners Fenway Sports Group own 80 per cent of it).

It’s become an engrossing, convoluted, and parochial web to examine. It also makes the commentary, coverage and debate quite skewed with a regional bias. And, of course, this can only excite and incite!

Play ball!