I’ve been an SF Giants fan forever.
In 1986, I went to my first ballgame with my dad, our landlord, and his kids, nestled in the orange and grey concrete bowl that was Candlestick Park, watching Bob Brenly commit three errors but still hit the game-winning home run against the Atlanta Braves.
In 1989, from Montana, we watched the Bay Bridge Series, watched the world fall apart around Will Clark, Kevin Mitchell, and the rest.
I’ve dealt with mixed feelings about Barry Bonds.
I fell in love with Bruce Bochy, Buster Posey, Matt Cain, Tim Lincecum, Madison Bumgarner, and the rest of the crew that brought us joy in even numbers (2010, 2012, 20214).
So it was a bit of a harsh reality check to remember that ballplayers don’t always see the world the way I do.
Ballplayers are people. And you absolutely have the right to believe what you believe. I also think you have the right not to wear special Pride Night caps, if that bothers you that much.
But going out of your way to write Bible verses on your hat shows a profound misunderstanding of what Pride Night means, and on many levels.
First, you’re acting like a victim. You’re acting as if any recognition of the existence of LGBTQ+ people is somehow an oppression of Christians, as if human value is a zero-sum game. Christians, you are not a victim. Look at the numbers in the world and in history. You’re a sizable demographic. In the modern world, you’re the bully more often than you are the victim.
Second, Pride Night – and Pride Month – is not about putting one group down. It’s about asserting the value and humanity in all of us, in celebrating the diversity and wonder that is the human experience.
Don’t believe in gay marriage? Don’t get married to someone of the same sex. On a night intended to make all people welcome – and we won’t even get into the question of making all paying fans welcome – you don’t need to go out of your way to make people who don’t love like you do feel unwelcome.
Your religion can be a beautiful thing. If it gives you strength, great. If it helps you explain the dark nights, the vast cosmos, and the myriad evils loose in the world, more power to you.
Writing Bible verses on your hat on a night designed to humanize people who simply don’t have the same sexual desires as you do, that’s just putting a bully pulpit on your head. You’re not a hero. You’re not a victim.
You’re just celebrating the attitude that killed Matthew Shepard on a lonely barbed-wire fence in Wyoming.
You just want to make sure that other people who think like you don’t think that you could possibly have empathy for anyone who isn’t like you.
It’s shallow. It’s not holy. It’s sad. You could be using your platform in so many better ways. Justice for victims of sex trafficking, for instance.
Plus, none of you are pitching well enough to justify antagonizing a huge swath of your fanbase.
Writing At 1 AM 