100 Things I Love About Baseball (Pt. 1)

There’s a lot to not like about baseball. It’s as flagrantly money-hungry as it’s ever been. Owners are purposefully running franchises into the ground. People who will already make dozens of millions of dollars walk away from everything for pennies more. Countless exceptional players are overlooked time and again in favor of the same small handful of guys for years on end. Half the awards and honors are a joke. Many of the fans—and the organized sport itself—are profoundly racist, misogynistic, and homophobic (to name just a few things). Major League Baseball spent one passionate night with sports betting and, upon waking up the next morning, decided it actually rather liked being in bed together, and stayed.

And yet we’re all still here. Because there’s something about it that keeps us here—or, more likely, many somethings, all different and too many to name. Trying to describe even some of them is a wonderful exercise; it’s hardly an original idea, but it doesn’t need to be. I first thought of doing this when my father forwarded me Joe Posnanski’s newsletter post about it (which I no longer have a link to since it's moved to Substack), and decided then that it would be a really good thing to put out there on some sort of blog.

Conveniently, I now have some sort of blog. So, here are the first 50 reasons—in no particular order—that I wake up in the morning and keep being romantic about baseball.

100. The narrative.

99. The 2025 Seattle Mariners Beast Quakes.

98. A real nasty breaking ball, like Nolan McLean’s sweeper. (Or all the stuff that made the Tigers broadcast react like this.)

97. Sitting on the edge of your seat for three hours to make sure you don’t miss a pitch on your scorecard.

96. Cinema (SNY's broadcast magic).

95. Cinema (actual movies).

94. The underappreciated defensive genius of Tyrone Taylor.

93. I was originally going to say Ernie Clement’s flamboyant slide home in the World Series, but honestly, I just have to give this spot to everything he does.

92. The Durham Bulls.

91. Having opinions.

90. Complaining about other people’s opinions.

89. The view from on top of the Green Monster.

88. Mr. Celery.

87. The Mets-Red Sox game I attended where competing chants for each team turned into one big “Yankees suck” cheer. Listen: I get that some of you out there are still mad about 1986 (you broke the curse eventually, so let’s all move on). But the people know that there is no blood between us so bad that we cannot come together to hate the Yankees.

86. Players who fall in love with a city and do everything they can to stay there. You don’t see it too often these days, but you catch it here and there: Cal Raleigh firing Scott Boras as his agent. The narrative around Julio Rodríguez’s contract extension. José Ramírez and his extension. Of course I’m a little bitter about recent events, but that’s not why I love this. Because how could you hear Geno say, “Part of my heart is in Seattle,” and then watch him come home, and not be in love with that?

85. 18-inning games. Yes, I stayed up on the East Coast to watch that whole thing.

84. Walk-up (and warm-up) songs. They just couldn’t exist in other sports, and they don’t need to exist in baseball, but they do. And plenty of them suck, but then you get a Pink Pony Club or a Low Rider or a Simple Man, and you just have to think, Man, this fucking rules.

83. But the best part of walk-up songs, of course, is singing along to My Girl with a crowd of thousands.

82. It’s not a walk-up song, but singing Sweet Caroline at Fenway is pretty damn great, too.

81. Opening a pack of baseball cards. Oh, it doesn’t matter to me what year or set they’re from; why would I care? I’m there for the crinkle, the weight of card stock in my palm, soaking up the names and records of players I know and players I don’t (though, after this, I will). If I’m lucky—and I never am—maybe I’ll pull a card I’m really excited about, and the hope of that thrill feels a little bit like watching a game.

80. Josh Naylor and Juan Soto waking up one day and deciding to simply steal 30+ bases.

79. The borrowed words and phrases that sneak into our everyday language.

78. Pitchers fielding. Particularly when they do things like start behind-the-back double plays.

77. The History of the Seattle Mariners.

76. The way people look over my shoulder when I’m scoring at games and sometimes even work up the nerve to ask me questions about it.

75. Women playing baseball, from the game's inception to the WPBL.

74. The fact that you could go to Citi Field for a game and leave with a pair of Ryne Stanek’s pants. (Ask me how I know.)

73. The art of the double steal.

72. Sunset over a ballpark.

71. Watching Game 5 of the 1995 ALDS for the first time and thinking to myself: if Sandy Koufax is the Left Arm of God, then Randy Johnson is His middle finger.

70. Teammates doing little dances on the field together.

69. The Miracle Mets.

68. Walk-off home runs.

67. Going to minor league games with my friends. Even when they don’t care about the action or understand what’s going on, because that’s not what it’s about. It’s about being outside, together, having hot dogs, talking about nothing, and yes, occasionally getting to look up and hoot and holler for a home run—all for maybe $20 a pop, if you were smart about your tickets.

66. This video that gets posted on the Pittsburgh Pirates subreddit after every win, because it makes me laugh hysterically every time.

65. Pitchers pointing at pop-ups.

64. Pitchers pointing at what they think are pop-ups.

63. How much sillier and more whimsical it is than every other sport.

62. Excellent broadcasting.

61. By which I mean: The stretch and the 0–1 pitch on the way to Edgar Martínez; swung on and LINED DOWN THE LEFT FIELD LINE FOR A BASE HIT! Here comes Joey! Here is Junior to third base, they're going to wave him in! The throw to the plate will be… LATE! The Mariners are going to play for the American League Championship! I don't believe it! It just continues! My oh my! Edgar Martínez with a double ripped down the left field line and they are going crazy at the Kingdome!

60. I also mean the great Mariners broadcast team carrying on Dave Niehaus' legacy, the iconic SNY booth, and every other commentator that’s made the game complete instead of detracting from the experience.

59. And I obviously can’t talk about great broadcasting without including Matt Tuiasosopo’s first home run.

58. The spaces queer fans have built and the creativity they bring along.

57. Seeing a player in the minor leagues one day and then in the majors months or years later.

56. Ozzie Smith doing backflips. At 40 years old.

55. The fact that we call someone “Big Dumper” to the point that even Wikipedia has to say it.

54. Bonding with strangers.

53. Bonding with my parents.

52. Bonding with old friends (even the Yankees fans).

51. It would be impossible to say too much here; to sum up any one person in words is already beyond our reach, and somehow even more so when it comes to this man. It's rare to find a player who loves the sport and the game so deeply—because the two are not the same—and who honors them, knows their history and cares, sees the parts that have been overlooked and reaches for them with both hands, even when nobody has asked him to. Rarer still is for that man to be the world's hitting champion, a (nearly) unanimous Hall of Famer, and beloved by millions as not only one of the most iconic players to ever set foot on the field, but also one of the most iconic people. If there is one light in the darkness of 21st-century baseball, the people of Seattle know it well.

Whenever I start to lose my faith in baseball, I turn to face that light, and there stands Ichiro Suzuki.