There is no greater experience in sports than watching a great postseason game, a down-to-the-wire, back-and-forth affair that comes down to one final dramatic moment that instantly becomes part of the very fabric of each franchise's lore, good or bad.
And there is no worse experience in sports than watching owners and players decide not to contest games because they're squabbling over money.
Guess which North American professional sport just enjoyed the ultimate weekend of great theater and which one remains mired in an endless slog of mind-numbing, quasi-theater?
Look, we know the National Football League is king, and nothing's going to change that. Even if the weekend's four Divisional Playoff games were busts, the NFL still would be dominating the national sports conversation this morning.
But the manner in which those four games were decided on the field, capped off by Sunday night's all-time finish in Kansas City, should remind everyone why sports exist in the first place. They exist because they provide both those competing and those watching the ultimate reality show on earth. They play because they care about who wins and who loses. And we watch because we care just as much.
You know what we don't care about as much? Who gets what portion of the money.
Now, of course it's important to the participants on the field and in the owner's box how those billions of dollars are distributed. Nobody's playing for free, and nobody's owning a team with the intention of taking a financial loss. This is indeed a business, and there are legitimate business matters that must be addressed in order for a league to thrive.
But it's still secondary to the actual playing of the game. Because deep down, that's what this is all about.
We can only hope the powers that be in baseball, both on the owners' side and the players' side, still realize this. And that while they have every right to butt heads with each other over the details big and small that must be negotiated in order to have a collective bargaining agreement that allows the league to operate, in the end there will be zero tolerance from the fans who make the sport possible for any loss of games as a result.
Major League Baseball has survived work stoppages before, yes. Contrary to the perpetual doomsday declarations, the sport will not die if some games are lost. Real fans will always come back, whether immediately or after some period of protest.
But if ever there was a point in time in which a work stoppage would generate zero sympathy from anyone on the outside, this is it. No matter which side you agree with, you will not find any acceptance for the postponement of opening day on financial grounds. Not on the heels of a thrilling NFL postseason. Not with March Madness occupying much of our attention in the spring. Not with the hockey and basketball postseasons looming in April, May and June.
Baseball will be forgotten by a huge segment of the population if the season does not begin on time. Yes, most will tune back in whenever the fight finally ends and the games finally commence. But the sport will be diminished in some way, of that there can be no doubt.
Fans can accept an offseason work stoppage. They can cope with a winter devoid of any news. But they can't deal with a spring of continued bickering, no pitchers and catchers in Florida and Arizona, no sellout crowds on opening day.
Not right now. Not in this environment.
Yes, a fair, collectively bargained financial system is necessary to make the sport work. But in the end, nobody really cares what that financial system looks like. So long as there's a pitcher standing on the mound, a batter standing in the box and a ballgame taking place in front of our eyes.