- Joined
- Dec 23, 2024
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Do I like baseball? Not really.
Is MVP Baseball 2003 one of my top 10 PS2 games? Oh hell yeah.
From the moment I first pressed start, this game had me hooked. It wasn't just a game, it was an experience. The distorted sound of the bat making contact, the janky running animations and the absolute filth of Randy Johnson’s pitching, it was baseball perfection in digital form.
I lowkey became obsessed with the 03' Diamondbacks.
But what truly made it special wasn’t just the gameplay—it was who I played it with. Sitting next to my dad, controllers in hand, we battled it out in unforgettable matchups, debating strategy and talking smack like we were in the dugout ourselves. It wasn’t just about winning or losing; it was about the moments we shared, the laughter, the friendly rivalries, and the unspoken bond over a game we both loved. To this day I have yet to beat my father in a homerun derby and ya know, I don’t think I ever want to. I know more about the 2003 MLB season than I do basic algebra, because of 6 year old me’s dedication to learning as much about the hitters as I could.
If the screenshots look bad quality, this is just how the game was. It was not the prettiest PS2 gem.
I’ve since played tons more baseball games across many platforms (maybe I do like baseball?) and none of them capture that magic I felt in the batters box of MVP 03’. It introduced me to a new way of playing, with that (at the time) revolutionary hitter’s eye mechanic and dynamic pitching system that made every at-bat feel like you were there. It made me think, anticipate, and strategize my hits.
And the commentary? Hot damn. San Francisco Giants commentators Duane Kuiper and Mike Krukow’s voices became the voices of baseball to me. Learning that the two of them are real life friends did absolute wonders for my mental health. Listening to them commentate play-by-play is one of the key pillars to the true MVP experience, if that is such a thing. Some of their lines have definitely aged, one that always comes to mind is “That was a can of corn!” Like what the fuck does that mean Duane Kuiper?
Love these old dudes.
Then there was the music—oh my GOD, the music. I was at that age before I even really knew what my taste in music was, and this game served me songs like Fly From The Inside by Shinedown, Blackout by (Hed) P.E., and All Messed Up by Sum 41 on a silver platter. They hit me like a ton of bricks, and something clicked, I was hooked. That fast, rebellious energy, the raw guitars, the punchy vocals—it was a large part of the spark that lit my lifelong love for rock (I was listening to bands like Tool, Deftones and Killswitch Engage already thanks to my dad).
But beyond the fun, it was and still is a time machine. I still play this game 22 years later, and every time I boot it up I’m transported back to those simpler days. Back to sitting in front of the shitty CRT TV in the upstairs living room with my dad, debating which team I could use to beat the Indians that day. Even now, as newer games try to impress with hyper-realistic graphics and modern day rosters, there’s something about the simple, yet perfect, charm that keeps me coming back. The menus, the sound effects, Randy Johnson’s pixelated ‘stache—it all feels like home.
Here's a screenshot from a run I've been doing over this past year with the Arizona Diamondbacks.
So here’s to you, MVP Baseball 2003. You were/are a great game. And more than that, you're a bridge to some of the best memories I've got.
In closing, I think you - the viewer - should give it a try if you have the time!
Best wishes,
Diet Pepsi
Is MVP Baseball 2003 one of my top 10 PS2 games? Oh hell yeah.
From the moment I first pressed start, this game had me hooked. It wasn't just a game, it was an experience. The distorted sound of the bat making contact, the janky running animations and the absolute filth of Randy Johnson’s pitching, it was baseball perfection in digital form.
I lowkey became obsessed with the 03' Diamondbacks.
But what truly made it special wasn’t just the gameplay—it was who I played it with. Sitting next to my dad, controllers in hand, we battled it out in unforgettable matchups, debating strategy and talking smack like we were in the dugout ourselves. It wasn’t just about winning or losing; it was about the moments we shared, the laughter, the friendly rivalries, and the unspoken bond over a game we both loved. To this day I have yet to beat my father in a homerun derby and ya know, I don’t think I ever want to. I know more about the 2003 MLB season than I do basic algebra, because of 6 year old me’s dedication to learning as much about the hitters as I could.
If the screenshots look bad quality, this is just how the game was. It was not the prettiest PS2 gem.
I’ve since played tons more baseball games across many platforms (maybe I do like baseball?) and none of them capture that magic I felt in the batters box of MVP 03’. It introduced me to a new way of playing, with that (at the time) revolutionary hitter’s eye mechanic and dynamic pitching system that made every at-bat feel like you were there. It made me think, anticipate, and strategize my hits.
And the commentary? Hot damn. San Francisco Giants commentators Duane Kuiper and Mike Krukow’s voices became the voices of baseball to me. Learning that the two of them are real life friends did absolute wonders for my mental health. Listening to them commentate play-by-play is one of the key pillars to the true MVP experience, if that is such a thing. Some of their lines have definitely aged, one that always comes to mind is “That was a can of corn!” Like what the fuck does that mean Duane Kuiper?
Love these old dudes.
Then there was the music—oh my GOD, the music. I was at that age before I even really knew what my taste in music was, and this game served me songs like Fly From The Inside by Shinedown, Blackout by (Hed) P.E., and All Messed Up by Sum 41 on a silver platter. They hit me like a ton of bricks, and something clicked, I was hooked. That fast, rebellious energy, the raw guitars, the punchy vocals—it was a large part of the spark that lit my lifelong love for rock (I was listening to bands like Tool, Deftones and Killswitch Engage already thanks to my dad).
But beyond the fun, it was and still is a time machine. I still play this game 22 years later, and every time I boot it up I’m transported back to those simpler days. Back to sitting in front of the shitty CRT TV in the upstairs living room with my dad, debating which team I could use to beat the Indians that day. Even now, as newer games try to impress with hyper-realistic graphics and modern day rosters, there’s something about the simple, yet perfect, charm that keeps me coming back. The menus, the sound effects, Randy Johnson’s pixelated ‘stache—it all feels like home.
Here's a screenshot from a run I've been doing over this past year with the Arizona Diamondbacks.
So here’s to you, MVP Baseball 2003. You were/are a great game. And more than that, you're a bridge to some of the best memories I've got.
In closing, I think you - the viewer - should give it a try if you have the time!
Best wishes,
Diet Pepsi
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