Why network television is like Major League Baseball

With the All-Star game happening tonight, I thought this would be an appropriate post. 

I know this sounds like a Fairy Tale, but there was a time when a broadcast network would pick up a show and a showrunner would run it. He would make all the creative decisions. He would decide on casting. He would choose the stories, and he would hire writers to write them and directors to stage them.

During filming, he was the one who determined whether they needed a re-take. He was the one who approved the wardrobe. He alone determined that a new line was necessary, or that a close-up was required.

He would have a vision for the series, which he would carry out. If he was right the series became a hit. If he was wrong the network cancelled him, which was fair.

In Major League Baseball a team would hire a manager. He would hire his staff. He would have a certain approach to how he thought he could build a winning team. He would work with the front office to bring in the kind of players that fit his approach.

During the game he would make all the on-field decisions. He would substitute players, he would determine when a starting pitcher needed to come out and just which pitcher would relieve him. When to bunt, and when to hit-and-run, and when to walk batters intentionally was his call alone.

How he chose to motivate his team was his call as well. Was he fiery? Fatherly? Scholarly?

And if his team continued to lose he got fired. And that was fair. Another manager with another approach would take his place.

But that was “Once Upon a Time.”

Today networks own their shows. They hire showrunners to carry out their vision, whether they have a vision or not. They tell the showrunner who he can cast, which writers and directors he can hire. They approve the stories. Based on research, they call the shots.

During filming, they must be satisfied before moving on to a new scene. They dictate camera angles. They request new lines. For the most part, the showrunner is an order taker. And when the reviews are bad, the showrunner is expected to take the blame.

In baseball, the front office now firmly controls the on-field direction. Armed with analytics, they cobble together a roster that looks best on paper. They hire a young manager who will slavishly follow their approach.

During the game, the front office texts the manager telling him when to remove his starting pitcher. They often make out the line-up for him. They make strategic decisions and expect the manager to carry them out. And when those decisions blow up, the manager is expected to take the heat.

The parallel is obvious. And so are the results. Broadcast networks continue to lose audiences. The few hits they have are piloted by old school showrunners who have earned the right of autonomy – Chuck Lorre, Dick Wolf, Shonda Rhimes. And even they are fleeing for other platforms.When they're gone they will be replaced by young showrunners who will fall in line. 

In baseball you have Bruce Bochy, Joe Maddon, and Terry Francona – three managers with World Series rings. And then a parade of younger managers who “relate well to the players” and embrace the front office game plan. In other words, they get those in-game texts and carry out the orders, whether they agree with them or not. Bochy is retiring after this year.  Which 30 year-old with no big league managerial experience will replace him? 

The result: Every team is working off the exact same numbers, following the same direction, and games now are all 3:30, there are a million strike outs, a ton of home runs, and nothing else. Fifteen minutes can go by between batted balls in play. Six or seven relievers come into the game for each team on a regular basis. What once was a delicious chess game is now a computer program.  Let's see what the ratings are tomorrow for the All-Star Game.  I'm not predicting a home run. 

For network television and baseball to get better, to attract more fans, I think the solution is simple.

JUST LET ‘EM PLAY.