The word pennant has an almost unyielding quality. Even though the items it once described have largely disappeared from everyday life, it refuses to retire. If you walk into a basement rec room in Queens or a sports bar in Boston, you’ll probably see one tacked above a doorway. The colors are a little duller than the team’s current uniforms, and the felt edges curl slightly. It does a lot, but it just hangs there doing nothing.
A pennant is a long, narrow, tapering flag, according to the dictionary’s dry definition. It has its roots in nautical signaling, according to Merriam-Webster. Baseball is mentioned by Cambridge. Collins refers to it as a triangular flag that is frequently connected to victories. Everything is true, but it’s not complete. There is more significance to the word than any one definition can convey.
Its roots are not in stadiums but at sea. To identify themselves, signal conditions, and indicate the presence of an officer on board, naval vessels flew pennants. A broad pennant is still used by the British Royal Navy to designate a commodore. That flag, which declares rank without yelling, has a subtle fitting quality. Loudness was never intended for pennants. They were intended to be read.
The cavalry adopted the concept at some point and attached tapering flags to lances. In the chaos of formation riding, the military version was useful for spotting detachments. It’s odd to consider that the same shape that is flapping in a college dorm room used to ride into combat while fastened to a wooden pole.
Baseball was the catalyst for the transformation of America, and most people are still familiar with it today. The pennant serves as both a literal flag and a symbol for the league title in Major League Baseball. Sportswriters who have probably not seen a real pennant flown in years still use the phrase “pennant race,” which refers to that exhausting last stretch of the regular season. From 1876 until 1968, the pennant was awarded to the team with the best record. No drama created for TV, no playoffs. Just a long season with a flag at the end.
Even though that previous system resulted in a number of unfair finishes, there is a certain romance to it. You can feel the nostalgia seeping through in baseball’s current self-talk. Even though announcers are aware that the term “in the pennant hunt” is half-sacred and half-archaic, they still claim that a team is “in the hunt” in late September. Because it sounds like something, it endures.
Australians use the word “flag” in a similar way. The premiership flag in Australian rules football was first unfurled in 1896, and teams continue to do so at their first home game of the new year. In 1959, a trophy was introduced, but the flag’s reputation remained intact. When watching video of these rituals, it seems as though the fabric itself holds the memory in a way that metal cannot.
Traditionally, felt pennants with team colors, mascots, and slogans were stitched or screen-printed. The stadium gift shop sells the inexpensive ones for a few dollars. Collectors now sell the rare ones with vintage logos or those honoring particular victories for hundreds of dollars. It’s difficult to ignore how something so throwaway turned into something so treasured. Perhaps that’s the idea. Before it became a symbol, the pennant was always a memento, and people continued to find significance in that common fabric.
Investors in contemporary memorabilia markets appear to think the value will continue to increase. Whether that holds is still up for debate. The word itself, with all of its complex meanings—navy, military, sporting, decorative—feels more certain. It has merited its position.
