July 6, 2011: Mariners 0, Athletics 2 (43-44)

Going into today’s Mariners game, I had guardedly high expectations. The early buzz surrounding the game was positive, and all the ingredients were there for an entertaining time. The protagonist (Jason Vargas) was in the midst of an unprecedented hot streak, and whispers were that today’s game would represent a career breakthrough. Although the antagonist (Guillermo Moscoso) was a relative unknown, his limited track record – bad, but entertainingly so – suggested strongly that he would be an ideal villain. The matchup pointed towards an entertaining, lighthearted romp – the Mariners would win, and, though they might struggle at times, we would never doubt them.

However, I know the Mariners. I’ve seen a lot of their work over the years. Their recent output suggested to me that the story might go another, much darker direction – the Mariners would lose, and they would lose in an excessively hopeless fashion. I was a little apprehensive about this possibility. It’s not that I have a problem with darkness or sadness in baseball. It’s just that that stuff works a lot better when it’s a rare exception. When it’s a common occurrence, it cheapens the emotion, and ends up feeling at best eye-rollingly immature, and at worst dry-heavesingly immature. I was afraid that the Mariners would make me embarrassed to watch them.

Still, though, I’ve had a lot of good experiences with Mariners, and I knew that there was a decent chance they would surprise me. I’m not going to downplay the anxiety, but I was more happy than not to see what the Mariners were doing these days. You never know when they might spit out a masterpiece.

What I got was a refreshingly experimental approach to the baseball experience. The Mariners interspersed two independent and contrasting narratives, rhythmically switching the focus every few minutes to prevent anyone from getting too comfortable. The first narrative was a fun, positive one, of a type we’ve seen a lot in recent weeks. The Mariners pitching cleaned up against the Athletics offense. Batter after batter came up, took a few feeble hacks, and sat back down. Some of them got their licks in, but on the whole the Athletics hitters were resoundingly defeated. In this half of the story, it was never in doubt that the Mariners pitching would triumph, but we still got to see a few token failures and challenges along the way to keep it interesting. Basically a standard, reasonably well-executed feel-good story.

The second narrative was a bit more unconventional. In this, the antagonist took center stage, while the forces of good battled to bring him to justice. Unfortunately for the forces of good, I use the term “battled” very liberally. Not only did the Mariners batters fail, but they didn’t even put up a fight. It was like they didn’t care. They kept voluntarily lining up by the batter’s box, knowing all the while that they were stepping into an execution. It was oddly one-note, and so relentlessly downbeat that it was hard to feel bad about what was happening. It felt extremely detached, and even might have been funny, if you could believe that anyone could create humor so black.

Basically, what we’re talking about is The Stupids mashed up with The Match Factory Girl, switching between narratives every seven minutes or so. It was a blinding contrast, the proximate effects of which were to make the victorious story seem naïve and existentially pointless, and to make the depressive story seem like a comically overwrought satire of adolescent mopiness. Ultimately, both stories were left seeming like essentially false perspectives on humanity. This concept, as I’m describing it now, sounds awesome, and let me tell you, it sure does feel awesome to think about. However, it wasn’t actually awesome to watch. At the time, there was no drama, no suspense, no purpose or direction or semblance of narrative arc. It wasn’t an easy game to engage with. I was interested enough to keep watching, but also fairly detached and more than occasionally bored. That’s always a hard situation to evaluate – I liked the game, I valued it, I’m glad I watched it, but it’s likely not something I would ever bother to watch again.

I think that’s ok though. Even if once is enough, I got something valuable out of that one viewing. The game made me think. It gave me ideas. It expanded my experience of the world. It made me a richer person, became a part of my life. Already it is weaving itself into a tapestry of moments, thoughts, and feelings, all of which I will look back on in my golden years with unreserved happiness. I guess what I’m saying is, I liked it.

Grade: B+