Baseball’s new jerseys were designed for the long con of sports merchandising, not the players

Open this photo in gallery:

The first baseball uniforms were made of coarse wool. Cotton would have made more sense – cheaper, more breathable – but those initial haberdashers of the diamond wanted to look like proper business types. That also explains the first hats, which were made of straw.

The New York Knickerbockers dressed that way for a few years in the mid-1840s. It caught on.

Before the invention of the elasticated boxer-brief and the athletic support, one can imagine what it must have felt like to throw a hundred pitches in form-fitting burlap. This must be why old-timey pitchers in the movies are always angry.

Amazingly, the baseball uniform hasn’t changed much in the nearly 200 years since. It remains an impractical sports-business suit. Such as, why are there buttons up the front? Why the belt? What are the stirrups about?

You watch a guy slide headfirst into second base – pretty standard baseball stuff – and he will rise in a state of dishevelment. His shirt has been pulled out of his pants. His pants have started to corkscrew around his waist. Everything’s akimbo.

This problem is worse if the player is carrying a little extra baggage around the middle. God help that guy if he has to leg out a triple. By the time he gets to third, his uniform will have essentially worked its way off him. Then he has to get redressed in front of 40,000 people.

Imagine if it worked this way in other professions where people wear uniforms – ‘Sorry, I need a minute before I go into that burning building, chief. My shirt’s all funny.’

So when Major League Baseball and its equipment partners decided to rethink the uniform, there was room for innovation.

To hear MLB tell it, the new uniforms – designed by Nike and manufactured by Fanatics – are so futuristic that they may be suitable for space travel. They are “engineered to improve mobility, moisture management and fit, while keeping sustainability in mind.”

(As it applies to most consumer goods, “sustainable” should now be interpreted to mean “the same crap, but 100-per-cent more expensive.”)

The real upshot is that the uniforms are lighter. I’m not sure 18 ounces of broadcloth is what’s preventing the average shortstop from mashing like Mark McGwire, but let’s imagine that’s possible.

Lighter fabric is also thinner. These new uniforms are so performance-enhanced that they become see-through under a hot flash.

Shots of new Los Angeles Dodger Shohei Ohtani began making the rounds this week. These are his debutant portraits – the biggest signing by total dollar amount in team sports history – so they are a little historic.

In one, Ohtani has his bat slung over his shoulders, hands over his head. It would look impressive, if you could not see the clear outline of his tucked-in shirt through his sheer pants, making it seem like he is wearing a diaper.

Other pics show players seated with their legs spread. These have made it apparent which big-leaguers prefer to ride commando. Some of these shots are so out there they have to be selectively blurred before they can appear in family publications.

There are a laundry list of other complaints from players and fans. The nameplates are too small. The stitching looks cheap. The hand-feel is tawdry. Some people moaned about font choices and logo spacing.

But that was before the pants became a thing. Now it’s all pants, all the time. On Thursday, the players’ sent their union boss, Tony Clark, out to press their case.

“Universal concern is the pant,” Clark said.

One presumes MLB does not want to start a semi-nude revue. It’s five weeks until opening day. So it has got five weeks to fix it. Until then, I don’t know what will happen. Replace photographers with sketch artists? Boycott white uniforms?

In light of this minor disaster, the sensible thing to do would be to wholly reimagine the baseball uniform.

In a sport that involves so much twisting, leaping, erratic running and rolling around in dirt, a two-piece uniform doesn’t make sense. You could mimic the look of the current baseball outfit in a one-piece uniform, and spare the huskier catchers and pitchers of the world some embarrassment. Everyone would probably be more comfortable.

But you can’t sell an adult onesie in the merch hut. Because what if you were in a bar and some stranger turned to you and said, “Are you wearing a onesie?”

This is what the players don’t seem to be fully appreciating. These uniforms are not made for them. They are made to look semi-non-ridiculous on regular people who will never wear them to play baseball.

Baseball’s goal isn’t “mobility.” If that was their North Star, teams would not send guys out to do sports in pants that fall down if you don’t wear a belt (and sometimes fall down anyway). They’d throw them out there in T-shirts and jogging pants.

You can sell T-shirts to average people, but not for much. Most people have a lot of T-shirts. They know how much they should cost.

Most people do not own a full drawer of baseball jerseys, which are useless for every purpose except going to baseball games and convincing your new girlfriend’s parents that you are not the man for her.

You can sell them baseball jerseys for any stupid amount. Especially once you have claimed they are “sustainable” (while being made overseas, shipped here via slow boat, worn until the redesigned jersey comes out next season, stuck in the back of the closet and eventually end up in a landfill).

For just a moment here, the long con of sports merch – they change it over and over, it gets worse and worse, they charge you more and more – has become apparent. A lot of baseball emperors are out there with next to no clothes.

But that won’t stop the grift. They’ll redesign everything, say it’s even more improved and bake the losses into the new price. What a world.

Eventually, when they’ve completely run out of ideas, they can switch back to wool. ‘High-performance discomfort.’ ‘Sustained by proprietary sheep.’ ‘Itch your way to greatness.’

If they can sign the right players up to a long-term baby-powder sponsorship deal, it would probably fool most people most of the time.