In the tale of two weeknight crowds lies the crux of an issue that has long plagued the Marlins and invited laughter from outsiders, longing from insiders. There was the eruption of cheers before first pitch on Monday night at Loan Depot Park while Tyler Phillips toed the rubber. An electric atmosphere praised by the players, lapped up like a wellspring happened upon by weary desert travelers. Of course, the nourishment was of a foreign variety: most crowds at Loan Depot aren’t there to see the Marlins. These were Scotsman in town to watch their football team in the world cup but were happy to cheer anywhere they could buy a pint.

            And then there was Tuesday’s scene: a frustrated Clayton Mccolough attempting to remind a silent crowd what has taken place, while their franchise icon, who has just broken the record for career strikeouts as a Marlin, perhaps the most innocuous and underappreciated Cy-Young winning workhorse in the league, paused for a moment of appreciation that will only be remembered for coming 60 seconds too late.

            It has long been said that sustained winning is the only way to fix the Marlins’ woes, to temper their national and local irrelevance. In a week when the crosstown Heat acquired another star, waking up from a five-year stretch of relative mediocrity that the Marlins would have considered a success, and the Panthers struck another big trade to boost their existing championship core, the Marlins are quietly building a machine of no-names capable of competitive baseball.

With all due respect to Otto Lopez and his heroic batting average, this team does not have a star, or anyone close to a household name, though such players in baseball are scarce to begin with. Paul Skeens and Jacob Misiorowski are examples of small market players becoming “face of the league” types that someone like Eury Perez, even if he played up to his potential, never will be as a Marlin. But I began to wonder, watching Sandy gaze out expectantly at the empty upper decks on Tuesday night, basking in the trademark silence surrounding his life work’s accomplishment, whether the organization even wants its players to be recognized.

The Marlins faithful have not voted a player into the All-Star game since Jazz Chisholm in 2022. Say what you will about his antics, but he was and is an attention magnet and was a fan favorite during his time in the teal…or…blue and black and (red?). Since then, the Fish have adopted a prospect-hauling mindset, dealing away anyone that will fetch a return for handfuls of anonymous teenagers. That is the model. No doubt about it. Attachment is irrelevant, and stardom is treated as an inconvenient byproduct of success. Not the other way around.

But the fact is, baseball teams are a business. And they sell hopes and dreams. The players embody those hopes. If they want to resuscitate the stadium atmosphere, sell tickets, jerseys, and win playoff games, they will eventually need to do a better job promoting their own players. Even if doing so makes their players more expensive.