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Kevin Pillar’s Teachable Moment™
Credit: Nick Turchiaro-USA TODAY Sports
I do not know Kevin Pillar. Like me, he wakes up in the morning, has people who love him, and is probably an otherwise decent human being. What he did last night, however, was not okay. Upset that Braves pitcher Jason Motte quick pitched him, Pillar resorted to bellowing the word “faggot” back at the mound towards Motte. I don’t have to tell you this is bad and wrong and Pillar shouldn’t have done it. You already know that. Society has moved to a place where people know what they can and cannot be caught saying. Pillar’s apology seems to signal as much:
It was immature, it was stupid, it was uncalled for. It’s part of the game, it’s just, I’m a competitive guy and heat of the moment. Obviously, I’m going to do whatever I’ve got to do to reach out and apologize and let him know he didn’t do anything wrong, it was all me. Obviously, something to learn from, something to move on from. Don’t let it define me but really just I think it was just frustration from coming off a really good homestand and really just not even being in any of these ballgames, just coming out flat — not being able to build on what we were about to build on in Seattle. That just all came out in the moment.
To me, this apology makes a lot of sense. Had Pillar just called Motte a “fucking asshole” and the cameras caught it, this apology doesn’t lead anyone to bat an eye: Heat of the moment, said something I shouldn’t have, I’ll try not to do it again. Of course, Pillar didn’t choose to use a choice word without extra baggage, he chose to use the word faggot. It was a word he was comfortable using in a derogatory manner. An underlying issue is obviously there.
What that issue is, I cannot say. For Pillar, he seems to understand that using the word faggot is a no-no in society and he got caught. What he clearly does not understand is why that word is hurtful and a no-no in the first place. It is a word with one dimension for him. Unfortunately, our social media handwringing is not exactly a conduit for allowing someone to understand why what he did was wrong. Perhaps for you and me, we already understand why the word faggot is so hurtful. I’ve been called a faggot many times in my own life. As a gay person, it’s especially hurtful because its weaponization has a very specific intent. I’m willing to bet Kevin Pillar doesn’t know that. This is a good learning opportunity for him.
MLB or the team should suspend him for a few games. He should donate his salary over that duration to an organization like the You Can Play Project which advocates for inclusion in sports. More than anything, Kevin Pillar should spend those days visiting LGBT youth centers.
He should hear from kids who are bullied at school and called a faggot on a daily basis – kids who are thrown out of their homes, lose their friends, or contemplate suicide because of who they are. These kids who the word faggot is meant to define and target most. Pillar should hear the stories of the LGBT experience and have names, stories, and faces put to the word faggot. I’m also willing to bet that once Kevin Pillar spends a few days seeing what the word faggot represents in terms of felt pain, discouragement, and anguish by kids and people in the LGBT community, the word might start to have another dimension added to it. He might truly be able to understand why calling someone a faggot is taboo and expunge it from his vocabulary.
I sincerely hope Kevin Pillar can learn from this incident. While he can’t change what he did, he can still change himself. He can step into our world and see some of the hurt that comes along with it. In the end, hopefully he can see the hurt the word faggot brings. “Faggot” won’t just be any other put-down or curse, it will be a word that has a person, an experience attached to it.
Effectively Wild Is Dead, Long Live Effectively Wild
“The point of this entire enterprise is to entertain us with baseball games. The point of it is not to decide who is the best team. The illusion that that is what we’re doing has long been a powerful draw to sports. But it is ultimately not the point. There is no scenario where the universe will care or remember who the best team was out of this collection of collections. It only matters inasmuch as we create this illusion that it matters.
If you lose even the illusion, then it becomes problematic. But the point is not to have the illusion: the point is to entertain people and make them forget that we are all dying right in front of each other — that this is just this horrible, rotten slog to rigor mortis, that we are going to lose everybody we know, that we are going to lose everything we have and the only way to distract ourselves is by separating our day into distractions.” – Sam Miller, Effectively Wild (ep. 551)
This is one of my favorite quotes. I can admit I’m not the best-read person, try as I might to get better, but for whatever reason, this little bit from countless hours of baseball podcasting has stuck with me. Since I first heard it, I don’t think there has been a baseball game I’ve seen where I haven’t had this soliloquy pass through my mind. There’s something about pointing out the seeming banality of life and all the inconsequential investments people make in it that I find a strange sense of comfort and amusement in. I don’t find life as empty or pointless as Sam’s impromptu sermon might suggest – judging by the tone he delivered it in, I doubt he does either.
However, Sam is right in his assessment of the game of baseball. It’s something that does distract us from our lives, our pains, and all the stuff we’d rather not think about. It’s a game that plays to our primal instincts of competition – a game that masks itself as a bastardized Darwinian experiment, trying to identify which team is most fit to be the champion.
I would further affirm that baseball, and life itself, matters only as much as we let it matter. For many people, baseball does matter. They’ve let it matter. It’s that aforementioned perfect distraction. Maybe that’s part of the beauty of the game – that we have created such an amazing thing that we can’t help but want to hand over our time, energy, and even livelihoods to be a part of it. It’s so tantalizing. Maybe that’s an ugly thing too. All that time and energy and talent could probably be put to more meaningful causes in terms of utility.
It’s a bit of a paradox. Can something that doesn’t really matter, well, matter? It probably helps me sleep at night to think so. As someone whose path in life is still very unclear, I’d like to think that regardless of what pursuits I commit myself to, some sense of meaning will follow. Wanting to matter or be a part of something that does seems like a universal desire.
For Sam, his stop is approaching. His departing from the wonderful distraction, as he might put it, is firmly in sight. While I’m sad he’s stepping off and continuing on elsewhere, I am at the same time thankful the podcast will chug along with Ben Lindberg still strapped in and Jeff Sullivan coming in for Sam. I have great respect for Sam, Ben, and this podcast. I’ve found it to have great meaning to me in my life and for me that’s worth sharing. For me, what they’ve created mattered.
In times of joy, the podcast was there, eagerly awaiting its chance to add to my felicity through its whit and whimsy. When faced with the morbid side of life and mourning the loss of close loved ones, Sam and Ben were there to comfort with their evergreen banter. Maybe more than anything else, they served as a constant in times of uncertainty.
I’ve not been on this earth long enough to say where coming out ranks in terms of possible uncertain events one could have in his life, but for me, it seemed as daunting as anything could. I’m grateful to have had something I could find such enjoyment – such meaning – in during that period of my life. But then I take this experience, and I remember the last part of Sam’s great lecture:
But the point is not to have the illusion: the point is to entertain people and make them forget that we are all dying right in front of each other — that this is just this horrible, rotten slog to rigor mortis, that we are going to lose everybody we know, that we are going to lose everything we have and the only way to distract ourselves is by separating our day into distractions.
Perhaps it was all just one big illusion, a form of escapism. A distraction that only mattered because I let it matter.
But what if it all wasn’t? The logical part of me has already relegated baseball to being a distraction. Why shouldn’t a podcast about baseball just be an extension of that distraction?
I just don’t think that’s what the podcast has been for me. It didn’t make me forget about all the worst things in my life, it reminded me of all the good things and even added to them.
I hope when Sam looks back on his time with Effectively Wild he finds that it mattered and that it wasn’t just a big distraction – something that only served to entertain. In seeing how much a silly baseball podcast could matter to me through the good, bad, and uncertain, it made me want to be more diligent in my interactions and interests.
Being able to challenge others to be better, more intentional people seems like something that has inherent meaning. I’ve come to find that the pursuit of meaning can often be found in the people we impact. If two guys I’ve never met can so often remind me about what I love, how much can I do that with people I know in my life?
I don’t want to separate my day into distractions, I want to separate it into reminders – for me and others – of all the beauty that’s still out there in this world and in each other. For me, Effectively Wild hasn’t been a daily distraction. It’s been a daily reminder.
Fixing Corporate Pandering That Is Killing Baseball
No one could blame you for not knowing. It is human nature to not realize a mistake until the time for reckoning has come. Yet here we are, on the eve of judgement with no one presiding as our, the fan’s, advocate. Like a disease killing from within, baseball has eaten the under-cooked steak containing the pervasive parasite more commonly known as corporate sponsorship.
Almost inescapable, these little bugs seemed harmless at first. Free Domino’s pizza after a no-hitter, a #DomiNoNo if you will, appeared to be an agreeable proposition. The game trading a small slice of its soul for a medium pan pie of two-topping deliciousness was acceptable by most reasonable standards of soul apportionment. Even Pepsi sponsored t-shirts tossed into the stands at games weren’t so bad – they’re great sleep-shirts!
If only the slope hadn’t been so slippery, the incubation period so short.
Before anyone had the time to invest in a vaccination, things metastasized beyond our most desolate nightmares. Bobblehead nights presented by State Farm. Kids jersey giveaways presented by Chevrolet. Hot dog concessions brought to you by Farmer John. Grand slams branded as Papa Slams.
This all leads me to the most fatal sponsorship of them all: the branded salute to the troops. They’re inescapable. Take for example the Budweiser Salute to the Heroes done in the second inning of each Diamondbacks home game. While honoring first responders and the military is certainly a worthy cause, this fails on two levels. First: salutes and honorings shouldn’t be subject to corporate dollars. In the recognition of people who’ve made a difference, all the world should stand as one and thank those who are deserving of our praise. Attaching corporate partners to these salutes is degrading and is nothing more than an opportunity to profit off the sacrifices made by others.
The second failure may be the most damning. While few would argue against honoring those who’ve made a difference, many, if not all, MLB teams are ignoring an important group. A group that is as storied as many of the everyday heroes who garner recognition – military, police, firefighters, and paramedics most notably. While these people may not be fighting any wars, they are fighting the good fight. I’m of course talking about Cardinals fans.
Known to many as being the best fans in baseball, Cardinals fans have long been the caretakers of the game. Putting tradition, history, context, and dignity above all else. While many of the rabid dogs rampaging against old schools of thought and tradition are trying to destroy the game of baseball, Cardinals fans are busy applauding the sacrifice play. Baseball always has been and always will be a team sport. The notion of individual sacrifice is not lost among these advocates of baseball. They understand that sometimes the greater good involves the shortstop bunting over the leadoff man to set the table for greater things to come.
Knowledge and humility seldom meet but these traits are basic characteristics for those in Red Bird Nation. A Cardinals fan would never, ever, impose an unsolicited thought upon an opposing fan. Their respect for the game runs too deep. Yes, they might stand and applaud a pitcher after a satisfactory outing and even decorate the opposing team with approval after an impressive play or performance, but these displays are done out of a solemn understanding of the meaning of the game of baseball, not out of grandstanding and a need to feel important.
There are few reasons to preclude these heroes from our formal moments of recognition. Their understanding of sacrifice, teamwork, honor, history, tradition, and dignity rivals that of any of the other groups we bask with our appreciation. This isn’t to diminish the courage and sacrifice others have made, but it’s to advocate for the forgotten heroes.
This is a wrong that can be righted. An injustice that has a remedy. The merit of recognizing these people has been established. What better way to begin combating the bastardizing of the game than to honor those who work hardest at preserving the basic tenants of America’s Pastime? Teams like the Diamondbacks can start down the track of healing baseball and the fans from the game’s rampant greed. That’s why it is important that during the Cardinals’ impending visit to Chase Field, the Diamondbacks shelves their Salute to the Heroes and replaces it with a Salute to the Cardinals Fans.
While this may not address the issues of corporate sponsorship, it at least gets the game to start recognizing the right people. Once society has moved to a higher place, a place where the sight of a fan sporting the iconic image of the birds on the bat is held in veneration, people will demand that the stewards of the game become the ones who bring us the game.
Angel Stadium of Anaheim can embrace the Trout Farm presented by Viva El Birdos and Rally Squirrels instead of Rally Monkeys. Across the country, Fenway Park could unveil the Green Monster, adorned with images of legendary Cardinals fans like Jon Hamm and Nelly. Even the rival Cubs could have Kris Bryant bobblehead night with him wearing a Cardinals jersey – all made possible by The Best Fans in Baseball.
Imagine a world where stadiums could sport the name Birds on the Bat Ballpark or Fredbird Field. Teams like the Reds could be renamed the Redbirds. This is a world where the ideals of baseball unassumingly reside. The whole nation could be Cardinal Nation. Gone is the bald eagle and in is the cardinal. In today’s global environment, a time might even come where Cardinals players could become cardinals at the Vatican. They are certainly pious and moral enough.
While the game may not currently be in a place where it could handle such a drastic changing of the sponsorship guard, there is no doubt that these hollow corporations don’t understand the game of baseball the same way the Cardinals and Cardinals fans do. I hope that the game I so dearly love can come to see the ever-apparent reality that it has been corrupted. Progress starts with acknowledging the true heroes among us.
Foul Lines Blog 