Have you ever had a moment of quiet clarity when you start to question the reality of a word you otherwise use all the time?
You might repeat “banana” five times, and with each successive time you utter it to yourself it feels less like a word — and therefore less representative of a long yellow piece of fruit.
A minute later you might see a banana, immediately know what to call it, and never question it again.
The process reinforces that language only exists as a way to convey meaning if we abide by the same rules.
And rules only matter if we agree on them.
Anyway, perhaps that’s just a quirk of my own brain or personality. But getting stuck in those language loops every now and then is the closest proxy I can think of to explain how I feel about something ostensibly different:
Major League Baseball’s Rule 5 Draft.
This quirk of the sport makes no sense if we dissect it and repeat the rules of the process over and over. It only holds value when we give up and accept that there is a thing called the Rule 5 Draft and when those who are impacted by it follow the odd twists and turns that govern its existence.