Three years ago, I landed in Chicago for the first time.

Jet-lagged, overwhelmed, clutching a student visa and two suitcases. The city felt impossibly big. I never imagined I'd return as an intern, walking those same streets every day like I belonged there.

Energy BBDO gave me that. And also: baseball. I knew nothing about baseball. Not the rules. Not the stats. Definitely not the Cubs. But that was the brief. Figure out why Gen Z shows up to games but won't stay. Why we'll wear the merch, post the aesthetic, vibe with the energy, then ghost halfway through the third inning.

At first, I thought it was an awareness problem. Maybe Gen Z just doesn't get baseball. Then I started paying attention to myself. To my cohort of interns, this wildly talented group who became my late-night sounding board and lunch crew. We'd binge entire TV seasons in one sitting. We'd juggle five group chats, three side projects, and still find time to dissect why a TikTok trend worked. We didn't have short attention spans. We had selective attention spans.

Baseball doesn't have an awareness problem with Gen Z. It has a commitment problem.

And honestly? So do we.

Not because we're flaky. But because culture taught us that commitment is a subscription, not a vow. Easy to start. Easy to pause. Worth continuing only if it keeps giving us something back. Baseball still operates like loyalty is assumed. Like showing up once means showing up forever. Gen Z doesn't work that way. The breakthrough came when I stopped trying to fix baseball and started asking: What if the issue isn't the sport? What if it's the ask?

Baseball wants seasons. Gen Z wants moments. Baseball wants endurance. Gen Z wants entry points. Not because we can't handle complexity (we absolutely can), but because we need payoff now. Not nine innings from now. Not next season. Now. The irony is that baseball already has what we want. Ritual. Community. Lore. Moments that mean something if you care. The work isn't reinventing the game. It's translating why those things matter in a culture that values flexibility over tradition.

Working in Chicago made the insight feel sharper somehow

This city that welcomed me three years ago, that I walked through every morning on my way to Energy, that shaped how I see America. It taught me that belonging isn't about staying forever. It's about showing up fully when you're there. Maybe that's what Gen Z needs baseball to understand too. We don't have a commitment issue. We just commit differently. And if the sport can meet us where we are, moments first, maybe we'll stay for the whole game after all.