From home-run celebrations to tilted caps, players embracing joy continue to collide with an old guard devoted to Dust Bowl grimness

Over the last several years, simultaneously lauded and paralyzed by its ironclad traditions, baseball has undergone various forays into reinvention, trying to free itself from its unwritten rules of retaliation, its seeming aversion to joy, its demand that every generation of player of every culture and background play the game with the grimness of a Dust Bowl farmer.

The sport even attempted to change those customs by promoting a cultural shift with an industry-wide motto: Let the Kids Play. But in a time of intense division within the aggressive backdrop of Trumpism, the result is a racial clash that is actually a generational and cultural one that predates current politics by a century.

Howard Bryant is the author of 11 books, including Full Dissidence: Notes from an Uneven Playing Field, and Kings and Pawns: Jackie Robinson and Paul Robeson in America. He writes at Substack.

A decade after Kaepernick’s quiet protest shook the NFL, his exile looks less like an aberration than a blueprint for the culture war that followed

America likes nice round numbers, perfect for anniversaries and reflections, and it has, suddenly, been 10 years since Colin Kaepernick first protested police killings – more accurately, police killings of Black people that went unpunished either internally or by the courts – by taking a knee during the national anthem for the entirety of the 2016 NFL regular season. He never played in the league again.

Ten years covers a lot of ground, especially in these years of American darkness, and many of the important details surrounding Kaepernick, his banishment and significance have disappeared, time replaced by more time and more darkness – time moving faster than ever, at internet speed, where nothing matters, where nothing sticks. We consume by clip, by click, by meme, and knowledge by meme is not knowledge at all.