In it's dramatic surge toward relevance, the 2026 World Baseball Classic lacked one thing: Owners.

Were he still alive, John Lennon would be 85. And I gotta think he'd have watched the recent World Baseball Championship and felt compelled to re-tweak a lyric... 

Imagine there's no owners,
It's easy if you try, 
No Musk, no tech bro super donors,
No Hal, no Stevie Cohen guy.. 

Imagine: We just witnessed a wild, frenzied, global baseball tournament without discussions of contracts and salary dumps - no trade ultimatums, no free agent deadlines. Last night, America lost a close one. Today, nobody will get traded to Panama. 

We got to watch something we might never again experience: A set of games played purely for emotion, with one element of modern sports missing: 

Owners. 

(Note: Also you could say Tarik Skubal was missing; he might have made a difference. Then again, he's a free agent this fall, so... you know...) 

We watched a world series - a real world series - without once flashing upon some luxury skybox, where a scowling billionaire pawed his trophy wife - an Epstein-ian age difference - whose kewpie doll face, bloated from injections, will take 10,000 years to degrade.  

We can talk about Trump, or doofus Democrats, but it's the billionaires who own America - and baseball. These spiritual and intellectual giants of humanity define success with superyachts and sports teams. Over the last two weeks, never once did Redsock fans need to think about John Henry raising their ticket prices. Nor did Marlin fans have to ponder Bruce Sherman, MLB's cheapest owner. Or John Fisher, who tortured the good people of Oakland for three years, before ripping out his team and moving to Vegas. Or Hal - (insert your own diatribe here) - or Stevie Cohen, who transcends everything. Never once...

For two weeks, we got to watch pure passion, and nothing more. No budgets, no salary caps, no Scott Boras, no Juan Soto - (wait, there was one, but he didn't even look the same) - just grown up little leaguers, playing for their neighborhoods, rather than their private jets. 

Well, it's over. Congrats to Venezuela, and thank you, World Baseball Classic, for reminding us of what we're missing. Before this tournament began, I was not a believer in the WBC. But you know what? There are things worth fighting for, beyond money.  

You may say I'm a dreamer,
But I'm not the only one...