The act of ticket buying is contextualized into a supercapitalist theory that further denotes common ground between sexual identity, commerce, and the use of language to establish a narrative ("the owners are losing money" for instance) that further subjugates the fans who are, in the view of the poststructuralist, happily whistling while they pound out additional links in the chains that bind them at the feet of their masters.
I have no idea what that sentence actually means, but taking a metaphor and stretching it out to absurd lengths is a fun game for all ages. Why, just this morning I overheard my two daughters (ages 8 and 5) discussing the consequences of having clouds rain macaroni and cheese instead of water.
Their discussion focused mainly on the effects this would have on school lunches. You wouldn't have to buy lunch, because you could just hold a bowl out and collect your lunch from the sky. But if it rained mac & cheese 27 days in a row, you would really get tired of mac & cheese for lunch.
But certainly, mac & cheese rain would have plenty of effects on baseball, too.
First of all, since mac & cheese would be abundant and cheap, a lot more things would be orange. Every ballpark would probably have orange seats. The A's team colors would certainly be green and orange, instead of green and gold. And maybe the baseball itself would be orange, just as Charlie Finley once suggested.
The fields would have to be designed differently. Current drainage systems depend on the relatively sub-microscopic size of water molecules. Macaroni is much larger than water. After a macaroni storm, you'd probably need machines similar to snowplows to quickly remove the macaroni from the field. You'd also need somewhere to dispose of all the excess macaroni.
Mac & Cheese rain would affect the economic system of baseball, as well. Would fans spend $10 for a hot dog and a beer, if mac & cheese were freely available everywhere? No way. Can you drink anything besides milk with mac & cheese? Blecch, I don't think so.
Beer sales would plummet, beer ad sales would plummet, and so television and radio revenues would plummet. Baseball's whole economic system would collapse! To build a competitive team in this new economic landscape would require some very innovative thinking, the kind of creative ideas the Oakland A's have always been at the forefront of. While the other teams complain about the macaroni problem, the A's actually find a way to use it to their advantage. How they did it would be a mystery for many years, until finally unveiled in a best-selling book entitled Macaroniball.