MAGA finally found something it can’t figure out how to hate: America’s pastime.

astringently The World Series has become a glorious little mess for the movement. On one side, the California team, blue and smug, the embodiment of everything their king rails against. On the other, the Canadian team, foreign and independent, led by a country that’s done doing business with them.

It is the kind of matchup that short circuits the outrage machine. Who do you boo when both dugouts offend you?

It is almost poetic. For years, MAGA has thrived on knowing exactly who to despise. Hollywood, journalists, immigrants, scientists, teachers, librarians. The list reads like a census of anyone who ever paid taxes on time.

But baseball, that most American of entertainments, has thrown them a curve they cannot hit.

Because how do you spin this one? The California team lives in a city they swear is trans, corrupt to the core, and burning to the ground.

The Canadian team is an illegitimate half sister who should be grateful to live next to us. What will it be, huckleberries? The Canadian national anthem or chants of “Let’s go Shohei”?

And the cherry on the irony sundae? FOX has to air and promote the whole thing.

So MAGA must sit through nine innings of a world that refuses to shrink back to 1955. They will watch players from Japan and the Dominican Republic share the same dugout. They will see flags that aren’t theirs waving beside the Stars and Stripes.

And the crowd will still cheer, because that’s what crowds — and sport — do.

America’s pastime just became MAGA’s migraine.