“Weird” or Worthy? The Firestorm Over Cubs Rookie Matt Shaw’s Decision to Attend Charlie Kirk’s Funeral
It was only one missed game. One rookie absence in a season of 162. And yet, when Chicago Cubs rookie Matt Shaw stepped away from the diamond to attend the funeral of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, the reaction was anything but routine.
In the days that followed, Shaw found himself at the center of a cultural battle that had little to do with baseball mechanics and everything to do with faith, politics, loyalty, and the ever-expanding minefield of American discourse.
Some called his decision a mark of character. Others dismissed it as “weird.” And from that single word, a storm was born — one that shows no signs of dying down.
The Rookie Who Chose Faith Over the Field
Shaw’s absence came during a September matchup against the Cincinnati Reds, a 1-0 loss in which the Cubs’ offense sputtered. Commentators and fans alike noted that the rookie — a promising presence in the lineup — was not in the dugout.
At first, speculation swirled. Was it an injury? An illness? A quiet benching? Only afterward did reporters reveal the truth: Shaw had been granted permission to attend Kirk’s funeral, at the request of Kirk’s widow, Erica.
For Shaw, the decision was straightforward. In his own words:
“Charlie was someone I met back in Arizona, one of the biggest Cubs fans I’ve ever known. He texted me after every game — always encouraging. We also connected through faith, which drives me every single day. When his wife asked if I would attend the service, I knew it was something important I needed to do.”
To Shaw, it wasn’t about politics. It was about faith and family in Christ.
But for some commentators, the choice was unprecedented, even inappropriate.
“Weird”: The Word That Lit the Fuse
During a broadcast, former players and analysts remarked on Shaw’s absence, framing it as “unusual” and, in one telling comment, “weird.”
One commentator noted:
“Leaving your team in the middle of a playoff race for anything other than a family emergency really strikes me as weird. Especially since it wasn’t revealed until after the game.”
That word — “weird” — unleashed a fury.
Faith leaders, conservative voices, and everyday fans blasted the remark as insensitive at best, hypocritical at worst. To them, Shaw had honored a brother in faith, attending a memorial at the request of the grieving widow. To reduce that act to “weird” felt like a dismissal not just of Shaw’s choice, but of the value of honoring the dead.
The Merch Movement: An Unexpected Fundraising Frenzy
Even as critics debated Shaw’s absence, another story was unfolding: the explosive success of fundraising merch created in Kirk’s honor.
Organizers expected to sell a few thousand shirts and tumblers, with profits going to Kirk’s family. Instead, the campaign blew past every prediction.
Over 19,000 orders poured in within days.
More than 40,000 shirts were printed and shipped.
35 volunteers a day rotated through headquarters to fold, pack, and distribute.
The total raised neared half a million dollars, with organizers setting a new goal: a $1 million check for Erica Kirk to use as she sees fit.
“This went crazy,” one organizer admitted. “We thought it would be a small gesture. But people rallied. They wanted to show support, and it became something bigger — a movement.”
The scale of the response only heightened the sense that Kirk’s legacy, and those who honored it, were caught up in something far larger than a single funeral.
Faith, Brotherhood, and a Rookie’s Choice
For Shaw, the connection was personal, spiritual, and undeniable.
“Charlie was my brother in Christ,” he said. “When his family asked me to be there, I felt it was something I couldn’t say no to. Baseball is important. But faith, family, honoring someone’s life — that’s more important.”
Supporters echoed that view. “When you’re in the faith, we’re all brothers and sisters,” one pastor explained. “To attend a funeral isn’t weird. It’s loyalty. It’s love.”
And yet, the backlash grew.
The Double Standard Debate: George Floyd vs. Charlie Kirk
Perhaps the most explosive turn in the discourse came when critics pointed out what they saw as a glaring double standard.
“If a black player had missed a game to attend George Floyd’s funeral,” one commentator argued, “no one — not one person — would have dared call it weird. They would have praised it as courageous, righteous, even necessary. But because it was Charlie Kirk, suddenly it’s weird? That’s hypocrisy.”
This comparison lit up social media, drawing thousands of responses. Some agreed wholeheartedly, blasting what they saw as cultural bias. Others rejected the parallel outright, arguing that Floyd and Kirk represented fundamentally different figures in American life.
But the debate itself underscored a deeper truth: Shaw’s decision had become a proxy war over how America defines which lives, and which legacies, are honored.
Baseball Rules and Bereavement Leave
Adding to the controversy were the quirks of Major League Baseball’s own rules. The bereavement list exists to allow players time off to mourn family members. Because Kirk was not technically Shaw’s family, his absence did not qualify.
This detail inflamed critics further. “Charlie was his family in Christ,” one fan posted. “That bond matters just as much.”
Commentators pointed to generational shifts. “In my era,” one former player noted, “there was no bereavement leave at all. You showed up, no matter what. Times have changed. But maybe not enough.”
By framing Shaw’s absence as “not official,” MLB inadvertently highlighted just how subjective the definitions of grief and loyalty can be.
A Rookie Under Fire
Caught in the storm, Shaw has remained remarkably calm. When pressed about potential backlash, he simply replied:
“I’m not concerned. My faith guides me. That’s why I’m here, why I can play this game at all. If criticism comes, so be it. I know I did the right thing.”
For a rookie, that composure is striking. In a league where careers can be fragile, where one controversy can derail momentum, Shaw seems willing to take the heat.
Media Framing vs. Human Choices
What galled many was not simply that Shaw’s absence was discussed, but that it was framed in terms of logistics, inconvenience, and “weirdness.”
“You’re supposed to call the game,” one critic fumed. “Not judge the man. Talk about his swing, not his grief.”
Instead, broadcasts lingered on the “unprecedented” nature of the choice, with less focus on the substance: that a young man of faith honored a request from a grieving widow, sacrificing a single game to stand for something bigger than sports.
Hypocrisy Exposed
At the heart of the outrage lies one accusation: hypocrisy.
Critics argue that in an era where athletes kneel during national anthems, make political statements, and take stands on causes from climate change to racial justice, Shaw’s act of faith and loyalty should be beyond reproach.
“You can kneel on the field, wear slogans, do woke stunts,” one supporter said. “But if you dare honor Charlie Kirk, it’s weird? That’s the world we live in — and it’s upside down.”
To them, the “weird” label wasn’t just disrespectful. It was proof of a culture war playing out in sports commentary, one where faith is belittled and certain legacies are dismissed.
The Broader Question: What Do We Value?
In the end, the debate over Matt Shaw’s absence is not really about baseball. It’s about what America chooses to value.
Is loyalty to faith and friendship worth more than one game? Is honoring the dead ever “weird”? Do we judge players by their stats alone, or by the choices they make when life demands something greater than sport?
For Shaw, the answer is clear. “Faith comes first,” he said. “That’s what guides me. That’s why I play. That’s why I live.”
For critics, the jury is still out.
Epilogue: One Game, Endless Questions
Matt Shaw returned to the Cubs lineup the next day, greeted with cheers from fans who understood his choice and side-eye from those who didn’t. The controversy may fade, as most sports debates do, replaced by the next highlight or headline.
But the questions it raised — about faith, hypocrisy, loyalty, and double standards — will linger.
Maybe it was only one game. Maybe it was only one word. But in that collision of “weird” and worthy, Matt Shaw reminded America that sometimes, what we fight over isn’t a score, but the meaning of what it means to stand for something bigger than ourselves.