How the WBC could grow even more and change baseball

Wearing a blue Venezuela jersey, Jose Altuve raised his arms skyward to celebrate his country reaching the championship game of the World Baseball Classic for the first time.

One other pertinent detail: Altuve was in the stands at Miami’s LoanDepot Park, not on the field.

The company insuring the contracts of the tournament’s participants refused to cover his deal. Altuve wasn’t an isolated case, as insurance problems kept several prominent players out of the WBC.

Other players were prevented from playing by their Major League Baseball clubs. Many of the players who were cleared by their teams, primarily pitchers, basically had their usage dictated by them. As it was, tournament rules kept the pitchers on restrictive pitch counts.

These mechanisms threatened to delegitimize the WBC, and to some degree, they did. But once again, the cynicism over the two-week event was ultimately overwhelmed by the passion it evoked in certain segments of the sport’s fan base.

Perhaps this was the best-case scenario for MLB, which operates the tournament. Without the various safeguards protecting the financial interests of its franchises, team owners would never have released any players. The obstacles that prevent the WBC from being baseball’s equivalent of the FIFA World Cup were an existential necessity.

Then again …

What if there were no insurance requirements? What if MLB teams had no say over who could play or how their players could be used?

If a compromised on-field product can elicit as much emotion as this WBC did, how much more festive would a no-holds-barred version of the tournament be? How much bigger could the WBC be, and what would that mean for a sport that remains stuck behind football and basketball in cultural relevance?

MLB deserves credit for building the WBC over the last 20 years into what it is now. But the tournament has reached a point where it merits change. Rather than resign themselves to the perceived realities that have kept the WBC an enjoyable but ultimately inconsequential event in this country, baseball’s franchise owners should consider the upside of not placing any limitations on players participation.

Imagine if Shohei Ohtani had been a two-way player for Samurai Japan again or if Yoshinobu Yamamoto wasn’t on a pitch count. Imagine if the Dominican Republic wasn’t instructed by the Philadelphia Phillies to burn Christopher Sanchez in a lopsided quarterfinal victory over South Korea. Imagine if Altuve and Dodgers World Series hero Miguel Rojas had been allowed to play for Venezuela.

That’s an entirely different tournament, both in how it plays out and how it’s received by the public.

As much as the WBC has succeeded in expanding baseball’s global reach, it continues to be viewed with skepticism by an important demographic: Americans without cultural links to other baseball-playing countries.

Major international sporting events inspire patriotism because people from competing nations believe their athletes showcase the virtues of their culture to a global audience. For many Americans, that quality is exceptionalism. Whether the US remains exceptional is beside the point. That is the image its people want to project to the world.

But in baseball, most Americans feel as if that point doesn’t have to be proven. The sport’s most competitive league is based in the United States and the majority of its players are produced in this country. For average Americans to be as emotionally invested in the WBC as Venezuelans or Dominicans, their sense of superiority has to be threatened.

That won’t happen unless the teams are allowed to compete without governors. Japan has won half of the WBCs contested to date, but how many Americans view it as the king of the sport? The widespread assumption is that if the US fielded a team with its best players and wasn’t restricted in how it could use them, it would win the tournament more often than not. Once again, whether that’s true or not doesn’t matter. Perception is reality.

By eliminating restrictions and increasing the tournament’s legitimacy, MLB would draw in an even greater number of domestic viewers, who would be exposed to a version of the game that is never mundane. Not only would that change baseball’s image of a dying sport, it would create an additional platform on which established stars could enhance their reputations and the next generation of players could make themselves known.

Consider the case of James Rodriguez. The Colombian soccer player was exceptional in the 2014 World Cup that made him a star attraction. As underwhelming as the remainder of his career was, he remains a draw as a washed-up 34-year-old in Major League Soccer.

Here’s something baseball fans might not know: Soccer’s richest clubs don’t want to release their highest-paid players to their national teams either. They do so because they are forced to by FIFA, the sport’s international governing body. But the sport as a whole is healthier because of global competition, even though players sometimes are injured representing their countries.

There is no equivalent of FIFA, which leaves MLB to govern itself. That makes it unlikely the WBC will make significant changes in the near future. And if owners ever get on board with this idea, they will also have to work through some logistical problems, including when such a version of the tournament should be played.

Right now, baseball appears to be in a relatively good place, but that’s largely because of the interest generated by Ohtani and the Dodgers. In reality, uncertainty over the value of broadcasting rights has the sport at a crossroads. Baseball can’t ride Ohtani forever. The sport will one day have to figure out a new way to remain relevant. An improved WBC could be the answer.

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