For those of you who read my last post, I have an update: I saw the World’s Largest Baseball!
In addition to sharing my impressions about this artifact, I will also shout into space my opinions about Play Ball Park, where the World’s Largest Baseball currently resides. (Important context: Because this giant ball was in the free portion of Play Ball Park, that is the only part of the park I visited.)
Access. I will, no doubt, go on for way too long about access to Play Ball Park. (This is an excellent example of attentional bias. Because of the work I do, I am often thinking who can and cannot access care. I regret to inform you that I am now going to carry on about access to the World’s Largest Baseball.)
In order to enter Play Ball Park, you must download an app so you can show a QR code on your phone to the gatekeepers.
- What if you don’t have a smartphone?
- What if you don’t have a robust data plan with your cell phone carrier? (MLB does not provide clear orientation about how you must have this app. A lot of people who wanted to enter the park ended up loitering outside the gate to download the app and complete the questionnaire—more on that in a moment. If MLB made it crystal clear on its website that you need this app to access any part of the park, even the free portion, people could have gotten this app somewhere with WiFi.)
The app asks for your name, date of birth, home address, and contact information. Sure, you can lie, but I’m just speaking to the principle here. Why does MLB need to know this information? (You and I both know why, but just indulge me.) Must I share this data when I just want to see a giant baseball? (I’m turning into that Old Person who is paranoid about sharing personal information… even though I maintain a blog that allows me to shout into space.)
To be fair, most, if not all, people who go to Play Ball Park have a smartphone. And most people in this area have home internet access (per the US Census, over 93% of King County households have a subscription to broadband internet), so most are familiar with apps and their data-gathering ways.
The World’s Largest Baseball is not a true baseball. It has a diameter of 12 feet and there are numerous autographs from baseball luminaries on one side. (The photo accompanying this post shows the “back” of the baseball.) Guests are not permitted to touch the baseball or sit on the base. It looks like it is made of metal or other hard material. The red stitching appears to be plastic bumps that are attached to the surface. The panel on the “side” of the ball is secured with bolts and nuts that are painted baseball white. The ball does not appear to be a complete sphere; it looks like the bottom of the ball is flat so it sits flush inside the red base.
Even though the World’s Largest Baseball is a fraud, I still took a photo with it. Who knows when I will see an enormous fake baseball again?
The Budweiser Clydesdales were in cages. They are large horses. I don’t know if they ever come out during park hours. Few people were looking at them. This entire situation made me sad.
Fake ball, real smiles? (Julio was the only cutout who was smiling.)
There was a significant police presence in and around Play Ball Park. David Gutman with the Seattle Times wrote a thoughtful piece about the “two Seattles on display as thousands attend MLB All-Star festivities” that has relevance here. Seattle Police was out on foot, on bikes, and in vehicles. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen so many law enforcement officers; it’s not often that we’re surrounded by so many people carrying lethal weapons. It’s not that I felt more or less safe; it was just unsettling to see the amount of firepower amidst a sea of baseball jerseys.
The trains were packed this afternoon for the Home Run Derby. For a few moments, I was transported back to the New York City subways: Standing room only, holding onto poles and straps in awkward angles, and taking shallow breaths to cope with body and breath odors. However, people here were only passive-aggressive (“it would be nice if people moved down more”) versus just plain aggressive (“MOVE, PEOPLE”). I did not need to throw my elbows to escape the train when I got to my stop.
Maria Yang, MD 