Who owns the national pastime?

NOTHING SAYS spring like the thwack of cowhide on maple. It follows that nothing says mass vaccination like the sound echoing through a crowded ballpark. Lexington and 3,000 other Marylanders experienced this thrill one sunny evening last week in Frederick, Maryland, home of the redoubtable Frederick Keys.

It was in effect the team’s first home game, the previous day’s fixture having been rained off and rarely had the rituals of small-town baseball—back after an 18-month, covid-enforced hiatus—felt more welcome. Children with cotton candy and mitts raced around the concourse. Neighbours and workmates hailed each other, relaxed and mostly maskless, as they queued for pizza and beers. All rose for the Star-Spangled Banner—whose lyrics are particularly prized in Frederick, having been written by a former resident, Francis Scott Key, after whom the ball club is named.

In Section 107, behind home plate, season-ticket holders indulged in another minor-league tradition: casting a critical eye over the new blood. It included the anthem singer (“We’ve had worse—remember the bell ringers?” said Meri-Lyn, an executive assistant who rarely misses a game) and the over-enthusiastic compere (“She needs to keep off the energy drinks,” deadpanned Don, a security-systems expert, between logging each ball into his tablet). All the Keys’...