Well, now I’ve gone and done it. I finally checked out the whole White Sox vs. Angels highlights thing online, quivering a bit like a fella who just tried to use a smartphone. The game’s supposed to be baseball — simple enough, right? A handful of guys running around a diamond, hitting a ball, and trying not to get out. But watching highlights today feels like watching a movie with half the scenes missing and the rest on fast-forward.

The newfangled highlight reels are meant to capture the spirit of the game, the moments that count, the plays that get your blood racing. Instead, they often leave this old-timer scratching his head and longing for a ballgame in the bleachers with peanuts and crackerjacks. When you watch these quick bursts of action chopped up and edited to fit the attention span of a goldfish, you lose a sense of continuity, of drama, of heart.

Back in my day — and by that I mean not so long ago, really — the way we experienced baseball was different. The radio announcer’s voice would paint the picture, a crack of the bat here, a cheer from the crowd there. We’d hang on every word because we actually had to imagine the game ourselves. The highlights of the ’80s, ’90s, and even that early 2000s weren’t about flashy editing or quick cuts, but about telling a story. Every play was a piece of that story, not just a snippet to scroll past between TikTok dances.

Today’s highlight packages, from what I’ve gathered, are all about capturing "momentum" and "excitement," presumably crammed into a three-minute video segment designed to feed online algorithms. But baseball is a sport of patience and pacing. It’s a game where the tension works its magic in the pauses, the pitcher staring down the batter, the catcher signaling, the crowd waiting with bated breath. You don’t get that feeling when the highlights flash by faster than a fastball from Shohei Ohtani.

Now, I’m no tech boomer who shuns progress — I understand people want quick content, instant gratification, and all that. But in pursuit of rapidly consumed content segments, the essence of baseball’s beauty appears sacrificed. It’s like watching a blender mix a punch instead of sipping it slowly with friends. You lose the aftertaste, the nuances that make the experience worthwhile.

It’s strange to witness how the White Sox versus Angels matchup — a classic American pastime contest — gets turned into a highlight reel that feels both too bland and too busy all at once. The Sox had a few nifty plays, and the Angels showed some spark, but it’s difficult to appreciate the ebb and flow of the game when you’re only seeing the one-liners instead of the whole paragraph. It’s kind of like skimming the sports pages online instead of reading the whole column in the paper by the kitchen table.

And let me tell you, this partial view also gives newer fans, who only encounter sports through these micro-media bites, a distorted impression of what baseball truly is. They might be dazzled by a home run pinging off the scoreboard, but miss the tense, strategic moments — the double plays sneaking in run prevention, the pitchers grinding through at-bats, the stolen bases crazily flipping the game’s momentum.

Baseball, like fine whiskey or a good book, requires patience to savor. It’s not a sprint but a marathon where the thrill builds gradually, then sometimes explodes into unforgettable moments. Those moments don’t stand alone; they’re woven into the fabric of the game’s natural rhythm. And seeing isolated highlights stripped of their context risks selling this complex dance short.

In the meantime, the players themselves are caught between two worlds. On one hand, they want their great plays remembered and celebrated. On the other, the way their efforts get sliced up and dished out sometimes robs those moments of their dignity. I suppose it’s a reflection of the lightning pace of the digital age, but I can’t help feeling we’re losing something simple and pure along the way.

Of course, one could argue that a young fan might not have the patience for a whole game broadcast or even a full nine-inning recap. If highlights must exist in a bite-sized form, then there’s still the question of how best to present them without losing the narrative thread. Maybe it’s time to rethink how these montages are put together — not just a stream of big plays, but a curated story that respects the flow and tension intrinsic to baseball.

And hey, I’m not against innovation or technology helping bring sports to the next generation. I just hope it doesn’t turn baseball into a disjointed highlight reel devoid of the soul that’s endured for over a century. Because when you boil it all down, baseball isn’t merely about the runs or the outs. It’s about shared moments, the building of suspense, and the unpredictable twists that make you gasp and cheer together.

Maybe the answer lies in a little of the old school and a touch of the new: shows that combine the charm of classic game storytelling with modern visuals and sound. Enough rapid-fire blurring, and more of the nuanced, sometimes slow-burning, occasionally explosive drama of the game. That’s what draws me in — and I reckon it’s what keeps baseball America’s pastime.

For now, I’ll keep watching these highlights with a slight squint and a furrowed brow. Maybe one day the folks putting them together will figure out how to capture not just the scoreboard, but the heart of the game.