Why Kansas City Royals fans booed Whit Merrifield ... and what he said about it
Whit Merrifield stepped into the Kauffman Stadium batter’s box at 7:39 p.m. Friday, the most familiar setting his career could offer. The most comfortable setting his career could offer.
On this night, it was neither.
The noise that followed as he took a couple of practice swings is one he had not heard here, at least not directed specifically at him.
Boos.
They were scattered, not overwhelming, but they were unmistakable. And they grew loud enough to offset any applause as his name was announced for the first time since he said he’d reconsider his COVID-19 vaccination status if he’s dealt to a contending team.
That message, he would later say, had not been articulated clearly.
But this message, courtesy of a crowd of 22,119, was clear.
They’re hurt. Angry, even.
“People can do what they want,” Merrifield said when asked about the crowd’s reaction. “People have the right to voice whatever they want to voice.”
Merrifield has spoken frequently about the meaning behind his comments. His teammates, his manager and members of the front office have spoken on it. Many of us have reacted, as well.
On Friday, we heard from one more voice.
The fans.
Turns out, they’re not yet ready to move on. Maybe the boos will be short-lived. Maybe a fanbase just needed to be heard. Or to vent. Maybe.
But the Whit Merrifield biography — his history as a consistent bright spot in the midst of a dim rebuild — has added a blemish that will apparently linger beyond an overnight headache. There is so much more to his Kansas City story — which I still believe will move back to the forefront with time — but this is part of that story now. There is no escaping that while his words are still fresh, much as he has invested in damage control.
Merrifield has spent his time here as something of a fan favorite in a city partial to stories like his — he was drafted 269th overall and never was featured in prospect rankings, but he developed into a two-time MLB hits leader. There has been much to embrace, and plenty eager to embrace it.
But after explaining why he had refused to receive a COVID-19 injection — a decision that prevented him from joining his teammates in Toronto last weekend — Merrifield slipped in that he would reconsider that choice if offered the chance to play with a team in the postseason. That team, clear as day as the Royals sit 21 games under .500, is not the one playing in Kansas City, even as he wishes it was.
He’d spent the days before the All-Star break apologizing and clarifying those comments to his general manager, the team’s president of baseball operations, his coaches and his teammates. He had not intended to understate his appreciation and admiration for Kansas City, he said, but rather to emphasize his desire to play in the postseason. He’d make that sacrifice for this team if it represented that contender, he emphasized. Alas, it does not.
That explanation was well-received in individual conversations, Merrifield said. And so manager Mike Matheny said the team was prepared to move past it.
But not everyone is there quite yet.
As Merrifield stepped into the box, he received a greeting uncommon not only to himself but to his peers. This is not Philadelphia or New York, but Kansas City, a town that, true to its Midwestern flavor, embraces its own. It doesn’t typically scold them. There is a lot you can get away with here — but the implication that you would give another city just a bit more than this one has been crossed off that list with a black Sharpie.
It was not a blown save, an error nor a strikeout that prompted the boos Friday. This was not Ned Yost walking to the mound after a pitching decision gone awry in the first playoff game in three decades. This had nothing to do with performance.
These boos were flat-out premeditated.
It’s telling that Merrifield is the lone player on the receiving end of the reaction. After all, he was one of 10 players who refused the vaccine. Rather than alternating righty-lefty-righty in the lineup Friday, the Royals’ lineup card read like this: unvaccinated, vaccinated, unvaccinated, unvaccinated, vaccinated, unvaccinated, vaccinated, unvaccinated, vaccinated.
Just one was booed.
Even if those boos quieted with each passing plate appearance.
The words, not the decision to remain unvaccinated, most obviously prompted the fans’ response. Once more before the game, Merrifield apologized for saying them, but he still acknowledged he will reconsider getting vaccinated if traded to a team that reaches the postseason and makes a trip to Toronto. If there’s something for which he should be credited in all of this, it’s his candor in admitting that. It would be easier to lie.
But it’s not easy to swallow. If there is a condition in which Merrifield would receive an injection, a four-day trip to Toronto ought to have qualified. If he’s unwilling to get vaccinated, the standings shouldn’t provide the persuasion otherwise.
But they evidently might, and so a fanbase feels as though it’s been told it’s not good enough. Although the record confirms that, hearing the words stings a bit more. That they came from Merrifield — a player who has long given his all on the field here — only amplifies them.
A city that prides itself on punching above its weight — on being bigger and brighter than those on the outside realize — took an unintended uppercut from someone on the inside.
And provided an opportunity Friday, it swung back.
This story was originally published July 23, 2022 at 5:00 AM.