In the summer of 2015, the author of this piece found themselves at the edge of a precipice, a moment that would later be traced back to a single text message from bandmate Jake Ewald. The message arrived just as Bren Lukens was preparing to end their life on August 17, a date that now sits at the intersection of personal crisis and the raw honesty of Modern Baseball’s music.
Rose, a confidante who had been inseparable from the author since childhood, faced her own darkness a month later. On September 28, 2015, she attempted to take her own life and was rushed to a hospital, where the weight of her recovery would become intertwined with the author's own ongoing battle.
The band’s next release, the split EP 'MOBO Presents: The Perfect Cast', dropped on October 23, 2015, and its bittersweet melodies offered a strange comfort. The author clutched the record while navigating the sterile corridors of a psychiatric facility in New Hampshire, feeling the lyrics echo the fragmented thoughts that refused to settle.
A few weeks later, the author attended a Modern Baseball show in Tampa, the venue pulsing with a crowd that seemed to understand the unspoken pain. Wearing a sweatshirt emblazoned with the band’s logo, they watched as Rose, now sporting the same garment during a school trip, bore the fabric’s stains — a stark reminder of the crisis that had erupted just days before.
The concert became a marker of a fleeting normalcy; the mosh pit’s energy collided with the author’s internal turbulence, and the night ended with a promise to stay alive, however fragile that promise felt.
A Split That Spoke Volumes
When Modern Baseball unveiled 'Holy Ghost' on May 13, 2016, the record arrived as a double‑sided confession. Jake Ewald’s half recounted the loss of his grandfather, a grief the author and Rose initially misread as mere melancholy, while Bren Lukens’ verses explored his own spiraling thoughts.
The album’s split nature mirrored the duality of their experiences: one side grappling with personal loss, the other with the relentless pull of depression. The author and Rose, both still navigating treatment in Massachusetts, dissected the lyrics for a school project, finding in each line a reflection of their own unresolved narratives.
In the years that followed, the band’s activity waned. By 2017, Modern Baseball announced a hiatus, citing Bren Lukens’ continued mental‑health struggles. The silence that settled over the group did not silence the echo of 'Holy Ghost', which continued to surface in the author’s mind during moments of vulnerability.
Years later, the author reflects on the album’s endurance, noting how its themes of unfinished stories and lingering sorrow have outlived the band’s original vision. The music remains a touchstone, a reminder that healing is not linear and that friendship can both fracture and endure.
Today, the author shares this story not as a cautionary tale but as a testament to the unexpected ways art can intervene in the darkest hours, offering a lifeline when words fail and the world feels too heavy to bear.