Recently I’ve begun to worry that I know way too much about my favorite athletes’ political beliefs.
“Shut up and dribble,” the infamous instruction lobbed in 2018 by the right-wing pundit Laura Ingraham at LeBron James after he criticized President Trump, was always a demeaning slogan. But in a culture in which many athletes are endlessly oversharing on social media or their teammates’ podcasts, it’s starting to feel downright quaint.
For pro athletes — people not famed for their astute political engagement — neutrality is all but impossible in a social media culture where every Instagram like gets spotted and scrutinized. And if you’re a sports fan, regardless of where you fall on the political spectrum, it’s increasingly difficult to maintain an ignorant bliss about which players hold beliefs that you find intolerable.
That information will find you, whether you want it or not. And once it does, you’ve got a decision to make.
This dilemma came to a head for me this winter after my beloved New York Mets were dismantled — and, according to my favorite preposterous rumor of the off-season, it was partly because political discord had split the clubhouse. The Mets, as they do, collapsed in spectacular fashion last season, and reports began to emerge about the team’s souring chemistry. Mike Francesa, the peerless sports-radio foghorn, got specific, saying: “Had to do with Trump. One side liked Trump. One side didn’t like Trump.”
Close followers of the Mets didn’t need to be told that one side was almost certainly the superstar shortstop Francisco Lindor, whose wife, Katia Reguero Lindor, has publicly criticized Mr. Trump’s policies and was a member of Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s inaugural committee. The other side probably included the fan-favorite outfielder Brandon Nimmo, who reportedly donated money to Mr. Trump. Perhaps not coincidentally, this season Mr. Nimmo will roam the outfield of the Texas Rangers.
There’s an old bit of locker-room wisdom that says male pro athletes fight over only two things: women and money. Tariff policy didn’t make the list, though I sure enjoy picturing Mr. Lindor and Mr. Nimmo arguing over pass-along costs. Of course, not that long ago, athletes reliably gave such boring, canned answers during pointless postgame interviews that it became a durable sports trope — which, in hindsight, allowed sports fandom to remain an oasis from the divisive politics of the world. Sports was even a subject around which the politically incompatible might find common ground, especially if they rooted for the same team. Now the opinions held by your favorite team’s most indispensable players are nearly unavoidable and are difficult to dismiss. That’s prompting fans to retreat into the same factions we’re split into in every other realm of life.
The New York Giants’ outspoken running back, Cam Skattebo, had to apologize recently for opining skeptically on the existence of chronic traumatic encephalopathy. The Brooklyn Nets’ forward Michael Porter Jr. shared several retrograde beliefs about women (and declared that he shows women clips of Andrew Tate as a “test”) during an appearance on a podcast affiliated with the right-wing Nelk Boys. America’s Olympic gold-medal-winning men’s hockey team couldn’t even get through the jubilant post-victory phone call with Mr. Trump without inadvertently ruining the celebration for an entire gender when Mr. Trump disparaged the women’s hockey team, also gold medal winners. Some of the men tried to patch things up during a “Saturday Night Live” monologue, but it’s hard to jam broken teeth back into a smiley face.
In any other historical moment, I’d never believe my Mets were dismantled because players fell out over politics, and for what it’s worth, Ms. Reguero Lindor mocked the idea as a fantastical rumor. But in this moment? Athletes squabbling over politics? Why would they be any different from the rest of us?
The fallout from these divisions for fans can be real. An old friend of mine is a multigenerational Yankees fan, Long Island born and bred. In other words, he’s exactly who you’re picturing when you close your eyes and picture a Yankees fan. Yet he told me the team’s entire 2025 season was soured for him after the franchise decided to hold a pregame moment of silence at Yankee Stadium after Charlie Kirk’s death — conscripting all in attendance or watching from home into paying their respects to the memory of a political activist with highly polarizing opinions. My friend barely shrugged when the team later lost in the playoffs, he told me, because he’d already emotionally checked out of the season and couldn’t recommit.
Then there’s the friend, a fellow Mets fan, with whom I’ve developed a soothing routine. He’ll periodically text me the name of a favorite player who he just discovered, to his horror, “is MAGA.” I’ll text back with a reality check: “They’re all MAGA,” which isn’t true but, if you follow major league baseball long enough, sure starts to feel true. He’ll reply with a sad emoji. He’s in Los Angeles, I’m in Boston, and this has become our bonding ritual, our bicoastal do-si-do. It’s also part of how he processes the guilt required to go right back to rooting for those particular players, at least while they’re in the uniform of the team he adores.
He and I understand that none of us need to surrender our convictions and clap like performing seals for someone whose beliefs or behavior offends us. Nor should we require ourselves to root for someone’s individual failure at the expense of our chosen team. Because here’s the thing: It’s still just sports.
There’s an old Jerry Seinfeld joke about how pro athletes change teams so often that die-hard fans of a particular team — the Mets, in my case, and in his — are really just rooting for clothing. Maybe he was onto something. Just root for the jersey and not necessarily the nitwit wearing it.
And if your conscience still can’t be assuaged, go on social media and unfollow everyone on your favorite team’s roster. Because, trust me, you don’t want to know.
Devin Gordon is the author of “So Many Ways to Lose: The Amazin’ True Story of the New York Mets — the Best Worst Team in Sports.”
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