It’s World Baseball Classic time, which means it’s time to revive a controversy that seems to pop up every time the event comes around – whether there’s a big-name injury to spur the conversation or not – and that’s: Do we really need a World Baseball Classic? Isn’t Major League Baseball more than enough?
This debate intensified after Mets closer Edwin Diaz injured his knee during post-game celebrations following Puerto Rico’s victory over the Dominican Republic in the WBC on March 15. Detractors of the tournament are criticizing it as meaningless while expressing concern for the New York Mets, who will now miss their All-Star closer for an entire season. Their arguments are rooted in the fact that the Mets are responsible for Diaz’s salary, and his injury is undoubtedly a significant setback to their World Series aspirations.
However, sports commentators and reporters are taking their criticism to another level — wishing harm to other players and speaking grotesquely about their family backgrounds. “The WBC is a meaningless exhibition series designed to: get YOU to buy another uniform, to hell with the real season, and split up teammates based on where their grandmothers got laid,” wrote a sports commentator as another tweeted, “I literally hope every single one of these WBC losers has a player on their MLB team get injured tmrw.”
These critics were quick to get called out by many online, but it is crucial to recognize that the criticism the World Baseball Classic is receiving is not merely self-serving but inherently racist.
First, it’s important to note that Diaz’s injury did not occur while he was playing but rather while celebrating with his team. It was a freak accident that no one could have predicted or prevented. The injury could have occurred during the first game of the Mets’ season or even while playing a casual pick-up game at home. Injuries are an inevitable part of the sport, and while it’s undoubtedly unfortunate to see a player of Diaz’s caliber get injured, using his injury as a reason to wish for more harm or call for the discontinuation of a tournament that provides international and many Latino players with a platform that MLB doesn’t always offer them, is, at best, a privileged take.
Second, telling these players that they’re only allowed to play baseball on your terms gives “Shut up and dribble” energy. Let’s not forget when journalist Laura Ingraham criticized Cleveland Cavaliers’ LeBron James for “talking politics” during an interview, in which she said he needed to just “shut up and dribble.” Athletes are not pawns for personal gain and gratification for your country. While they’ve been afforded an opportunity under certain institutions, that doesn’t strip them of their heritage. To say they can’t represent the country they came from disregards their identity and dehumanizes them for your entertainment. But when it comes down to it, and they need protection or support when the systems in place outside of the field work against them — the same critics who demand they comply with their self-satisfying expectations are often the ones who will look the other way.
The World Baseball Classic offers players the chance to represent their countries and pay homage to the communities that have shaped them as both individuals and athletes. Winning the title of World Champion, not just by U.S. standards, holds significant meaning for players and communities worldwide with some of the most passionate fans. In fact, some players have even expressed that the World Baseball Classic holds more significance for them than the World Series. While the MLB has a devoted fanbase, historical aclaim, and provides a prosperous future for baseball players, critics of the WBC should consider the largest baseball communities outside the U.S. and the wealth inequality that exists within them. Those calling for their favorite players to avoid the tournament due to injury concerns should take the time to listen to what these players have to say and why they’re proud to compete in the WBC.
The debate over the World Baseball Classic boils down to more than just a tournament. It’s a conversation about representation, identity, and opportunity. Edwin Diaz is a human before anything else; he is also Puerto Rican before he is an athlete. The WBC is a chance to celebrate the diversity and richness of the sport and the communities that make it possible. And while the tournament is not without its risks, dismissing it outright is short-sighted and privileged.
Ultimately, as we move forward, let’s recognize and celebrate the unique contributions of all players and communities, on and off the field.
