MLB Sparks July 4th Frenzy With Cubs Broadcast Call as Angels Remain Stranded in Canada

Baseball on the Fourth of July is supposed to be sacred—hot dogs, fireworks, and freedom served with nine innings of tradition. But in 2025, MLB seems more interested in rewriting the script than honoring it. From paywalls to passports, fans were left scratching their stars and stripes. Enter the Cubs and the Angels—two teams caught in a holiday headline that no one asked for.

The Fourth of July is meant to unite MLB fans with free, all-American baseball. But this year, the Cubs were tucked behind an Apple TV+ paywall, and the Angels were sent across the border to play the Blue Jays—in Toronto, of all places. Not only was there no national broadcast, but there wasn’t even a game on American soil. And yes, fans were expected to pay to watch both.

It gets worse when you consider what could have been. The Angels have hosted massive July 4th celebrations in Anaheim for decades—fireworks, sold-out crowds, military tributes, the works. Wrigley Field is a postcard for summer baseball and Americana. But instead of showcasing these iconic venues, MLB handed the holiday spotlight to a Canadian team and a tech company. And Chicago? Locked behind a login.

It didn’t go unnoticed. “Who approved the TORONTO blue jays playing at HOME on the 4TH OF JULY?” one fan demanded, her words going viral not just because they were loud, but because they were right. Major League Baseball once stood for community and connection; now it feels like it’s cashing checks first and answering questions later.

This isn’t just about one holiday—it’s about a slow, deliberate shift. The Field of Dreams game became a $1,000-per-ticket spectacle. Games have been exported to London, Seoul, Mexico City, and soon, Paris. Meanwhile, July 4th—America’s baseball day—was outsourced. MLB didn’t just ignore the United States; it skipped over dozens of cities built on baseball heritage in favor of international optics and streaming exclusives.

Fans aren’t asking for much: a home game in Anaheim, a free game in Chicago, and a league that still values the people who made it a national pastime. What they got was a paywall, a passport, and a message: if you want to watch, you’d better subscribe—and maybe buy a plane ticket.

When fireworks fade and the final pitch is thrown, fans remember more than just the score—they remember how the game made them feel. And lately, that feeling has been replaced by buffering screens, foreign flags, and “subscribe to watch.” Baseball doesn’t need a reboot; it needs a reminder of what made it American in the first place. Because if MLB keeps trading its soul for streaming rights, soon the only thing truly free will be the wave.

MLB might be losing its soul, and the fans are noticing it happening

Major League Baseball isn’t just shifting fields—it’s shifting priorities. And for many, this Fourth of July felt less like a celebration and more like a sellout.

“Frickin’ idiots!” isn’t just anger—it is fans watching baseball trade tradition for tech-driven exclusivity. Apple TV+ owning July 4th meant patriotic games vanished behind logins, not aired for all. The Angels, already exhausted from a brutal April schedule, barely saw home before more holiday road games. Fans aren’t just frustrated by streaming—they’re fed up with decisions that erase loyalty and routine, as one wrote, “This actually makes me not BUY any Apple products!”

Because the real crime, as one fan put it, is simple: “Who is putting MLB games behind a paywall on the 4th of July?” That’s the mic-drop that speaks louder than fireworks. It’s a statement that echoes through years of frustration, like when the Yankees–Red Sox rivalry, baseball’s biggest marquee, was streamed exclusively on Apple TV+. In those moments, the game wasn’t growing—it was gatekeeping. Baseball used to sell peanuts and programs; now it’s selling access, and fans are exhausted from buying the basics over and over again.

This year, even the holiday magic got outsourced. “The Angels should be playing at home with fireworks after. It’s just not right,” one fan lamented. And they weren’t wrong. Anaheim skies used to light up postgame on July 4th, a ritual tied to memory and meaning. Instead, in 2025, the Angels were shipped north to Toronto. It’s a pattern now—same as 2020, when YouTube TV yanked local RSNs without warning. Fans didn’t lose content; they lost connection.

By the time someone mutters, “Angels have been on the road for all the holidays so far -_-,” it isn’t just sarcasm—it’s surrender. Boston on Mother’s Day, Canada on Independence Day—when every celebration feels like a business trip, the soul of the game starts to fade. MLB keeps pointing to innovation, but the audience sees intrusion. Just like in 2018, when Facebook exclusivity blacked out entire games, fans have stopped feeling like the priority and started feeling like the product.

Another fan wrote, “MLB is broken and needs new leadership.” That might read like hyperbole—until you remember 2021, when the All-Star Game was moved for politics, not player experience. Or the blackout rules that still punish loyal viewers. Or the ticket prices that climb while the broadcast rights scatter across subscription platforms.

And if MLB keeps calling this strategy, maybe the fans have no choice but to call it what it truly is: the slow, corporate unmaking of America’s pastime.