On Sunday, the same night that Red Sox outfielder Jarren Duran received the MLBPAA's Heart & Hustle Award for embodying the "values, spirit, and traditions" of baseball, he was caught on hot mic in the sixth inning telling a heckling fan to "shut up, you fucking faggot." The response from Red Sox public relations was swift: Shortly after the game finished, the organization released apology statements from both him and the team. Duran's statement read, in full:
During tonight's game, I used a truly horrific word when responding to a fan. I feel awful knowing how many people I offended and disappointed. I apologize to the entire Red Sox organization, but more importantly to the entire LGBTQ community. Our young fans are supposed to be able to look up to me as a role model, but tonight I fell far short of that responsibility. I will use this opportunity to educate myself and my teammates and to grow as a person.
The Red Sox's statement read:
The Red Sox addressed this incident with Jarren immediately following today's game. We echo Jarren's apology to our fans, especially the LGBTQ community. We strive to be an organization that welcomes all fans to Fenway Park, and we will continue to educate our employees, players, coaches, and staff on the importance of inclusivity.
Corporate press releases encourage people to engage with them in corporate ways. Duran shouldn't have said a homophobic slur. Because he had, and he's a 6.5 rWAR player—too valuable for the club to simply waive—then he should apologize. Everyone knows that Duran didn't write his apology: The careful language in it can't be learned over the course of three innings and change. But whoever did write it knew how to write an apology: no "if anyone was offended," no equivocation, a mention of educating oneself. In terms of the apology itself, there is nothing to nitpick. What else could baseball fans—even if some of them are hypothetically gay, or perhaps even members of the aforementioned LGBTQ community—want from Duran?
I mean that literally. The Sox took further disciplinary action today, with Duran suspended for two games; your mileage may vary in the amount of satisfaction that you get from it considering, well, everything else. Duran's casual slur usage came when he was coming up to bat, presumably within proximity of the umpire and catcher, though it's unclear whether they heard him. The apology makes sure to mention that Duran will also be educating his teammates, which could either be a generic line or a testimony to the general state of the locker room.
It's easy to be bleak about this. These conversations have already happened, to the point where they're mostly composed of various trivialities. They will happen again. Duran used a homophobic slur casually and without hesitation; this is inexcusable; he's not unique in the landscape of baseball; don't look at the social media replies; the Red Sox aren't dropping him because he's too good; what can you honestly expect a corporation to do; he still has the chance to learn and change. It's all repetition—now teams even know what to say.
But that framing alone carries an It's always going to be like this intonation, as though rock bottom has to be acknowledged as reality. Expand a little, and I don't know that it's true. In June, I watched the Red Sox lose to the Phillies at Fenway Park's Pride Night, and mostly only paid attention to Kutter Crawford on the Red Sox side of things. It was on the better end of corporate sports pride nights. They played Chappell Roan during the game and "Summertime Sadness" on the organ after it ended. There was a lesbian proposal on the big screen. At one point in the fan dance segments, the camera caught a fan voguing in the stands; much to the crowd's dismay, the camera eventually cut away out of obligation to show lesser dancers, before cutting back to cheers.
It's easy to try and retrofit Duran—and his vaccination status or whatever else—into that landscape, but to be entirely honest, at no point did I ever consider how he or any of the other players, Phillies included, felt on that Pride Night, or even if they noticed at all. I had fun. How players think or believe affects me to a certain extent—in the positive, I enjoy little anecdotes about athletes being good allies, and in the negative, I don't think it's silly or futile to find the Rays relief pitchers and Jarren Durans at large to be contemptuous and small. But ultimately my affection for baseball is mine, regardless of the force of whatever baseball culture Duran represents. It's not a matter of hankering for something you can only pretend to have; you make space even if there is none for you, and anyway, at the end of the night, my team won. Queer baseball fans are everywhere and we will outlast Duran's tenure in MLB. That is true whether he listens and learns or not.
