Sometimes, when you feel right, there’s a groove there, and the bat just eases into it and meets that ball. When the bat meets that ball and you feel that ball just give, you know it’s going to go a long way. Damn, if you don’t feel like you’re going to live forever.
———
———
Eight Men Out is about the Chicago Black Sox, a team most of us learned about when their ghosts walked out of a cornfield in Iowa in Field of Dreams.
In 1919, seven members of the greatest team in the world agreed to take money in exchange for throwing the World Series. When the conspiracy eventually came to light, all seven players were banned for life. Buck Weaver was also banned, even though he played well in the series and didn’t take any money. He was exiled just the same for knowing about the plot and not informing anyone. His ban had less to do with his actions, and more to do with a league trying to save face in the wake of a scandal so severe it had the power to undermine the legitimacy of the entire institution.
Critics really love this film, which confuses me. It’s not a bad film, but such effusive praise seems misplaced. There’s some solid camerawork, and a few standout performances, but overall the film is really ham-fisted and clumsy. There isn’t an ounce of subtlety throughout, from the writing to the majority of the acting. I felt like there was a lot of tell, and very little show. Perhaps it’s just a style I’m not partial to. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Either way, the story is a captivating illustration of the economic realities in America, both then and now.
What the players did was unquestionably wrong. I’d normally argue against most conceptions of the so-called “purity” of baseball, but even on my short list, intentionally losing games for money is a desecration.
However, the story here is just as much about the circumstances that precipitated the crime as it is the crime itself. If the economics of the game hadn’t been rigged against the players in the first place, the whole thing likely never would have happened.
Then, as is still true today, the people responsible for revenue are not the ones who profit from it. The players were the reason people bought tickets to see the game, but they were paid very little while White Sox owner Charles Comiskey made a fortune. Functionally, they weren’t men being paid commensurately for their skill and talent, they were a product being exploited to make the rich richer.
The unfair power dynamic is also clear in that the players were banned for life for defrauding the game. And yet, while trying to minimize the fallout, Comiskey committed well-documented fraud, in conspiracy with other owners, and faced no consequences.
It’s a microcosm of the economic realities in America at the time, and the dynamic is stronger now than ever. It’s true economically — instead of being paid market value for our skills and abilities, the result of our labor primarily benefits an elite group who hold all the cards. And it’s true in terms of accountability. If I get caught conning you, I go to prison. If corporations and billionaires get caught conning the world, the worst case scenario is they get their wrists slapped and write themselves billions of dollars in severance checks.
I get that this may seem too political for this series. Playful was my intended tone when I started this whole thing. After all, I’m just following through on the ridiculous decision to watch 30 baseball movies in 30 days, because I couldn’t handle the start of April without the game. It’s reasonable to assume I’d avoid discussing anything polarizing. But I’m just going where the movies take me. As these films are immediately compared and contrasted with one another due to my daily viewing schedule, the corrupt economics of the game becomes an clear a thread I can’t ignore.
A conversation on economics isn’t coming out of left field [rim shot]. Baseball reflects the country, and economic disparity has been a part of the game for the near entirety of its history. It’s not just depicted in films indicting the game, it’s also referenced in films heralding its enduring beauty. With each passing movie, it got harder and harder to avoid the topic altogether.
I love baseball, but I can’t ignore the fact that the institution is synonymous with exploitation.
So, go ahead and call me a socialist, claiming to do so in the so-called capitalism. But if I’m criticizing the economic realities listed above, the system I’m criticizing isn’t capitalism, but aristocracy.
Up Next: Let’s leave behind talk of economics as we watch: [reads card] Moneyball. Okay, nevermind then. Let’s keep talking about wealth gaps.
