In 1954, at the zenith of America’s postwar society, historian Jacquez Barzun wrote, "whoever wants to know the heart and mind of America had better learn baseball.” Today, albeit for different reasons, Major League Baseball remains a microcosm of the country—it’s handcuffed to the profit-making interests of owners and advertisers, at the expense of fans like myself.
This is best seen at the ballpark, a commodified space that symbolizes both the infiltration of market values into everyday life and the outsized impact sports has in modern society. Most ballparks are built on public land with public money to the benefit of private corporations and wealthy owners. In turn, these entities use the stadium to manufacture consent. We sing the National Anthem, pay tribute to law enforcement, and buy overpriced merchandise. The cherry on top? Major League Baseball’s revenue exceeds $12 billion and the average franchise value is $2.9 billion, a 914% increase since 9/11.
What So Proudly We Hailed repurposes the ballpark to expose the heart and mind of America.
