The Marlins don’t often make the front page of the Sports section, but in today’s Herald they share the page with the Heat and the Panthers. And the three headlines seem to explain why they’re so often absent there:
“Heat Culture is a Thing.”
“Cats find strength in numbers on run through the playoffs.”
“Marlins Chisholm expected to miss 4-6 weeks with turf toe.”
Yesterday in Miami, the Marlins accomplished their first sweep of the season, beating the Chicago Cubs, once again, by one run. In New York, the Heat – who were supposed to already be on vacation – took the first game in their playoff series with the Knicks. And in Boston, the Panthers (ditto) were 60 seconds from elimination against the mighty Bruins when they scored to send the game into overtime, where they scored again, advancing to the next round of the Stanley Cup playoffs.
A remarkable Sunday for South Florida sports fans.
I’m not a golf fan but I watch the majors, and any tournament at Pebble Beach, for the stunning scenery as much as for the brilliant shot making. This year’s Masters had both, as well as the drama of an old-fashioned shootout, the kind in which the bad guy wears a black hat and the good guy wears a white one.
Though the commentators ignored the battle of good vs. evil that was happening on the screen, it was apparent to even casual observers. The leader going into the final round on Sunday was Brooks Koepka, a man who, along with a number of other famous players, had joined the Saudi-based LIV tour after deciding that huge sums of money trumped any moral considerations, while the man breathing down his neck was Jon Rahm, a staunch defender of the PGA. At the end of the day, just like in a classic Western, Rahm held the trophy and put on the green jacket.
In honor of Opening Day, here is the letter I sent last week to the President of Business Operations for the Marlins:
"I know you’re very busy, especially now with the season starting, but I wonder if you could take the time to enlighten me – a long-time resident of Fort Lauderdale – as to why professional baseball is no longer played outdoors in South Florida.
"Without question, an indoor stadium is a blessing in summer. (Though I watched a lot of games at Joe Robbie/Pro Player/Land Shark Stadium in July and August, and loved how, at the end of every game, win or lose, Louis Armstrong would come over the loudspeakers singing “What a Wonderful World.”) But in recent years I have driven down from Fort Lauderdale on balmy evenings in April and May only to find the roof closed. More than once, rather than pay to sit in an air-conditioned din (it’s the music, not the fans, that rattles the ears), I have promptly turned around and headed back to I-95.
"Someone told me at the World Baseball Classic (when the roof was never opened, making me think that perhaps it’s stuck), that the decision is made two days ahead of time and is based on a variety of factors. Judging by the amount of times the roof has been opened in the last few years, those factors must include a steady outdoor temperature of 76 degrees, a wind of less than 5 mph, a humidity percentage in the single digits, and a zero chance of precipitation.
"I have also heard that it’s the players who demand that the roof be closed. This sounds plausible, as they are largely coddled millionaires. But as I write this, tennis players are playing at the Miami Open in the middle of the day, with a much lighter ball more affected by wind, and exerting more energy than baseball players ever do, yet none of them are clamoring for a climate-controlled space.
"And none of the spectators at the Open are, either. In fact, they seem to enjoy being outside. Most people do, especially after a day spent in an office or a classroom or a warehouse. It’s why restaurants here have outdoor seating, which is popular even in summer. It’s why the New World Symphony makes many of its concerts available to picnickers through its Wallcasts. You can do all kinds of things outdoors in South Florida but, for some strange reason, watching the Marlins isn’t one of them.
"As you know, a game at loanDepot Park with an open roof is a beautiful thing – even, perhaps especially, at night. It’s a gift that, if regularly available, would undoubtedly bring more people to the ballpark – something that you, the players, and everyone interested in South Florida baseball would like to see.
"But it’s not just about aesthetics; there is also an environmental cost. Miami is a city that stands to suffer considerably from rising seas, and yet one of its largest structures is regular pumped with air-conditioning – a major contributor to global warming – despite the fact that it was built with a retractable roof to let in the fresh air. This is dumber than trading Christian Yelich – and has infinitely greater consequences."
Yesterday afternoon I was reminded of a great moment in sports and yesterday evening I witnessed one.
Hania, reading on her phone after lunch, asked me if I’d ever heard of Willis Reed, then informed that he had died at the age of 80. My mind immediately traveled back to May 8, 1970, game 7 of the NBA finals, the New York Knicks versus the Los Angeles Lakers, east versus west – then seeing the injured Reed, who had missed game 6, walk stoically, defiantly onto the court at Madison Garden.
Then last night I caught the end of the World Baseball Classic – Japan versus the U.S.A., East versus West – which came down to the two greatest players in the game, Shohei Ohtani and Mike Trout, men who are normally teammates, for the Los Angeles Angels, facing each other in a winner-take-all duel, Ohtani on the mound trying to protect a 3-2 lead, Trout hoping to send the game into extra innings with a shot into the stands. Ohtani had walked the first batter – nerves? was it possible? – but then got the second to hit into an easy double play. Now he was up against one of the greatest hitters the game has ever known. Aaron Sorkin could not have written a better script. And, in front of a standing crowd at LoanDepot Park, the great Mike Trout went down swinging.
The Cuban baseball team played in Little Havana on Sunday and, after its loss to the U.S., one player from the team defected. I suppose the others looked around and said, "Nah, they play baseball indoors here."