Loser's Log #17
May 19, 2025
Week 17 of Trump 2.0.
Sports have the power to unite us, but for how long? When we attend games and “leave our politics at the door,” what happens after when we head home? Can I stand for the anthem and still feel ashamed to be American?
This week I decided to surprise one of my most loyal readers, my Dad, with tickets to the Subway Series at Yankee Stadium. On Thursday night, I was feeling some anticipatory New York FOMO for Friday’s festivities: the Knicks potential clinching game and Game 1 of the Subway Series. I had to be somewhere for all that. What better way to experience all that energy than with my father? In addition to the intra-New York rivalry between the Mets and Yankees, I was excited to experience the stadium when they put the Knicks score on the jumbotron, and I wasn’t disappointed. Whatever loathing each side’s fans had for one another dissipated in our near-united support for the Knicks, in maybe the loudest moments other than Yankee fans booing Juan Soto. It reminded me of the story I shared in Loser’s Log #10, where Lindor’s home run built a bridge between a Trump supporter and me on the day Trump got shot.
But after the jumbotron reverted to the baseball scores, we were left to our differences. We were still there, a couple of Mets hats in a sea of pinstripes, getting flipped off and cursed out. I love going to Yankee Stadium and getting scared with my Dad. As the Mets continued their slow march to defeat, my father and I focused on our gripes about the stadium. The music was too loud, the fans were clueless, and, yeah, yeah, our team was losing. Now that it’s all said and done, wishfully spending too much money to bring my Dad to a brutal Mets loss reminded me of why I love being a Mets fan. The old days of schmuckery are still here, no matter how premium the team becomes. As my father put his head in his hands every time Aaron Judge came up to bat, I reminded him there’s no point in being scared. He’s so amazing, you just have to enjoy it. Years of showing up for absolutely brutal Met games has actually taught me a lot about how to be a good American.
We’ve seen over a decade of political discourse about how to hold the cognitive dissonance between the ugliness of our country and honoring it at each game. For obvious reasons I feel ashamed of the United States and fear the direction we’re headed. And yet, by standing for the anthem and removing my cap, I imagine myself in the company of scores of Americans who came before me and, unsure and ashamed, held onto their pride for what it could be, by remaining here and fighting for what is right.
Where our institutions are being gutted and rotted from the inside out, our national pastime remains. Is it naive to engage with it earnestly? Sometimes, as a minuscule protest, I pretend like I forget to remove my hat, even though I’m standing for the anthem. While my overall feeling is one of disgust, those moments still contain quiet reflection about what it is to be not just an American, but a decent one.