Question of the Day

"Is St. Louis the best sports city in America?"

Not only is that a stupid question--yes, Virginia, stupid questions do exist-- it's stupid question with an obvious answer: no! So by all means, put it on the front page of our semi-major metropolitan daily. Ignore the many unanswered questions about war and genocide and unspeakable corruption. After all, who'd buy that paper?

Much better to look at the sporting books and conclude that, currently, baseball sells, hockey doesn't, and that the out-of-town fans who bought so many of the tickets to The Ed Jones dome this year agree with the rest of us that it's a boring place to watch a football game. And it all costs far too much money.

I think the future history book chapter I'd most like to read--save the one about the trials for the Bush Administration's crimes against humanity--would be the one that explains the role of professional sports in 21st century America. I'm as much of part of it as anyone--hell, my family room is decorated in Early St. Louis Blues, and it wasn't against my will--but you know we're all going to look bad. All that money, all that effort. All that money. And for what?

Well, not for nothing, though the cost-benefit ratio has gotten way out of whack. Once the historians get past the obvious answer about escape from the aforementioned war and genocide and corruption, I hope they explain what happens as the last real ties between teams and fans are severed. Not all that long ago, a professional franchise here had a booster club who set up card tables full of mimeographed information at each game to recruit new members. Sure, it was hockey, but most minor of major sports, but can you imagine such a thing in the hermetically sealed corporate arenas of today? When the average fan either can’t get a ticket or can’t afford one, when the games become all but impossible to get on free radio and TV, when the roster of players changes so often that we really are reduced to cheering for uniforms that we've heard about but never actually seen--will anything change? Maybe not. We seem hardwired to live vicariously through sports, and if the connection between the team and its town is tenuous at best, maybe that's somehow irrelevant. That must be what the big business of sports is counting on as they make their product less accessible to those who make it all possible. Part of me would love to see them fail, for their money making maneuvers to finally come crashing down. But the other part of me, well, I just want to see a game.