The World Baseball Classic Taught Me A Valuable Lesson

How an international baseball tournament illuminated a stark difference between the hate-filled rhetoric on social media and the genuine camaraderie and respect shown by fans at the games.

Photo by Leo Saperstein.

Over Spring Break, I had the tremendous opportunity to travel to Miami and attend the World Baseball Classic (WBC). Many may have heard about the tournament’s thrilling championship game between Japan and the United States, with Shohei Ohtani and Mike Trout—arguably the top two players of the game right now—respectively leading their teams to the championship game. Some others may have heard of Mexico’s magical run, along with the incredible story of Randy Arozarena. Still, others may know that baseball is part of the soul of the Dominican Republic, winners of the 2013 WBC tournament, and bronze medal winners in the 2020 Olympics. I was there for a different reason…to support an underdog team.

As a lifelong baseball fan and avid Zionist, I went down there to show my support for Team Israel, the team of Jewish ballplayers who shocked the world by emerging from pool play to advance to the quarterfinals in the 2017 WBC tournament. They also stunned many by being just one of six teams to qualify for the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo.

This time, they were competing in a pool with some of the best baseball countries in the world. (There are four pools and the top two teams from each pool advance to the tournament stage). Despite Israel’s success last time, I knew it was an uphill battle for Israel considering they had to play the likes of the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, and Venezuela, who were loaded with superstar talent. However, I thought that they could at least make it competitive, even with the limited MLB star power they had. And knowing how seriously the Puerto Rico and Dominican Republic fans were taking the tournament, I thought Israel could use the support.

Although Israel lost to all three powerhouse teams that they faced, it’s hard to describe what an exhilarating experience it was to attend these games. The atmosphere at loanDepot Park for the two games I saw put crowd enthusiasm at the World Cup to shame. It felt like approximately 39,000 Puerto Rico or Dominican Republic fans and about 100 Israel fans arrived each night draped in the national flags of their teams and cheering at the top of their lungs for the entire game. Following both of Israel’s losses, countless fans of the opposing team went out of their way to console me or offer me a heartful high-five. I cheerfully accepted their overtures and felt immense gratitude to be a part of the joyous crowd—as well as some relief.

Relief, given the current surge in antisemitism that colors every interaction on social media. I’d be lying if I said I had no fear about the treatment I would receive at the games because of my hat, shirt, and obvious passion for the Jew Crew, especially watching Israeli journalists receiving threats and harassment at the World Cup in Qatar only a few months prior. However, nobody cared. And that was a beautiful thing.

In the lead-up to the tournament, a meeting among the Israel and Dominican Republic teams, and local school kids from the Dominican and Jewish communities—intended to build bridges—was met with a vile torrent of antisemitic rhetoric on Twitter and in the comment sections of every article and photo posted about the event. The love shared by former teammates Ian Kinsler (Israel’s manager) and Nelson Cruz (Dominican Republic’s general manager/player), hoped to counter some of the nastier comments on social media; comments that fanned the very flames that the two teams were trying so hard to extinguish.

But one observation was impossible to miss at the games: those in attendance had nothing but love and respect for each other. This is something that simply is not seen on platforms like Twitter, where the norm is to argue and criticize every aspect of…well, everything. And where people involve themselves in every conflict, including those they know nothing about.

One interaction that particularly stands out, occurred when I left the stadium and went into a local gas station to get a drink of water. Two guys entered the store in their Dominican Republic attire and noticed my Israel gear. They told me how much our scrappy team of Jewish warriors surprised them, and how we truly held our own for a while.

There was even a group of Dominican fans that asked to take a picture with me, excited to have a souvenir (if you will) with one of the few fans of the opposing team. I gladly accepted, moved by the fact that they would even ask a seemingly random person like myself to be in a photo with them. That is certainly one experience I will never forget!

There was never a more clear reminder of the old cliche that Twitter is not real life. As I said before, it’s so easy to get caught up in conflicts that dominate headlines in the media, which ultimately produces hate. Yet it turns out that real life is much better than Twitter or any comment section ever could be.

The World Baseball Classic gave me incredible lifelong memories. That’s what living life is all about. It’s not about getting sucked into a whirlpool of bigotry, bogus narratives, and politics—it’s about making connections and enjoying the company of others. Lived experience among people sharing your interests breaks down barriers quicker than social media polemic ever will. And that was the greatest element of the World Baseball Classic.

So because of the lesson I learned, my parting words are this: live a little. Sometimes, you have to put down the phone and try not to get caught up in everything going on in the world of social media. At the end of the day, the proverbial comment section is meaningless in the real world.