Last week, my beloved St. Louis Cardinals played the Tampa Bay Rays and, sad to say, the Rays beat them in all three games.
It was tough for Cards fans, but the team they were playing was making bigger headlines last week than those generated by sweeping a series.
The Rays had on Saturday celebrated Pride Month, the annual June opportunity that creates thousands of opportunities across the nation for LGBTQ+ advocates to celebrate who they are and mark the advances they've made in changing attitudes.
The Tampa Bay baseball organization got behind the celebration, handing out rainbow-colored Pride flags to the audience and marking the occasion with in-game observances. It was a great success, with more than 19,000 people showing up for a team that has averaged attendance of about 16,000. It was the 16th year that the Tampa Bay Rays as an organization had celebrated by hosting a Pride Night at the stadium.
What drew the attention of advocates, though, was that five players chose not to wear the team jerseys and ball caps that featured rainbow-colored Tampa Bay Rays logos. Instead, they wore the standard team gear.
At least as far as the headlines, press releases, comments and stories arising from the event, it was the actions of the five that garnered all the attention, not the organization's considerable effort to celebrate baseball fans in the LGBTQ+ community. "Hate has a voice in baseball" one commentator screamed.
The players didn't make a big deal about it, but they did offer an explanation. They weren't judging anyone, but faced with their employers' decision to outfit the team with an advocacy statement, is it any wonder a few players might have an issue and choose to opt out of the collective expression?
And yes, it had to do with their religious values or beliefs. That does not translate into "hate," although it does make it easier to vilify people when you cast them as haters.
I'm not here to argue the morality of the argument. But I do get concerned people are supposed to swallow their beliefs just because of societal pressure.
It reminds me of a classic episode of the comedy "Seinfield" in which the character Cosmo Kramer registers to participate in the New York City AIDS Walk.
"You're checked in. Here's your AIDS ribbon," the registrar says.
"Ah, no thanks," Kramer responds.
"You don't want to wear an AIDS ribbon?" the woman at the table asks.
"No, no" Kramer says.
"But you HAVE to wear an AIDS ribbon," she says.
"I have to?" Kramer asks, to which the woman responds affirmatively. "That's why I don't want to," Kramer says.
"Everyone wears the ribbon. You MUST wear the ribbon," says the woman, attempting to hand him the symbolic piece of fabric.
"You know what you are?" Kramer asks as he begins to walk away. "You're a ribbon bully."
"Hey, you, come back here!" the woman at the table screams. "Come back here and put this on!"
Before the show is over, he's beaten up by other walkers because he won't succumb to the pressure to wear the ribbon.
When you believe in the superiority of your idea or your message, thrusting it upon people before they're ready on their own to accept it, is indeed a form of bullying, or at least unjust peer pressure.
Wasn't there unbearable societal pressure for years for LGBTQ+ people to hide who they are, to shame them into being someone or something they're not?
Sometimes you've got to give people the space to be who they are. The truth is, few people will be browbeaten into changing their minds or hearts.