THINGS WE'VE GROWN TO DISLIKE ABOUT BASEBALL

A Handful of Key Pet Peeves

By virtue of having followed major league baseball since early childhood, and studied its history in extreme depth from time immemorial, this writer has developed an undying love for the game. Unhappily, however, said devotion chiefly applies to how things used to be. Over recent years, a number of complaints have been engendered regarding certain practices, rules, and attitudes which we deem rather less than fully acceptable. The intent of this piece is to present them in our best highly opinionated style.

We readily recall when there were two simply-organized leagues, consisting of eight clubs each, all bounded on the west by St. Louis. Baseball was indeed a game back then, far removed from today’s multi-million dollar business atmosphere which predominates the present scene. It isn’t just the glory of winning any longer, but the bucks to be gained at every level, from executive mogul down to player. Although this apparently recession/depression-proof industry continues to provide summers filled with sheer excitement, way too much of its former flavor seems to have faded away.

Perhaps we’re just old-fashioned, tradition-bound, ultra-conservative, or whatever, but can’t help having reached a rather advanced stage of upsettedness over how the whole scheme is being administered. As a consequence, we’re taking issue with several don’t likes, then offering recommendations for change where pertinent, essentially harking back, we admit to say, the “good old days”.

In order of relative significance, what we judge to be the game’s modern-age bad points and their proposed rectification, if feasible, follow below. However, a few of the topics we’re raising herein aren’t likely to be implementable. Why not? Simply because they’d have the effect of reducing club revenues, the reasons for which will be obvious to the reader. Still, we prefer to think of baseball’s true merits and its fairness, not merely the big bucks that are being striven for every day.

SCHEDULING
This writer is a longstanding steadfast advocate of assuring a completely level playing field from all aspects, season-by-season, for each participating team. We fail to see such feature in existence under present rules and circumstances.

Years ago, a regular season consisted of 154 games, whereby a club would face every opponent within its league exactly 22 times. On this premise, the odds were fully equal. Today instead, with each circuit broken down into the three divisions, the greatest part of each team’s schedule includes confrontations with its sectional rivals, supplemented by limited encounters elsewhere. We thus hear much talk about relatively “tough” vs. “weak” intraleague opposition. Is this what a person might call a level overall playing field?

There are currently 14 American and 16 National League franchises. We would propose to correct this non-understandable lopsidedness by returning the Milwaukee Braves to the junior circuit from whence it initially sprung, thus restoring complete balance. With every club then required to play 11 games with each opponent within its league, we’d easily and painlessly return to the 154 season total.

Corollary to the above steps would be elimination of those senseless interleague games held in June and July, scheduled merely to attract additional fans. We see no value, other than greed-motivated profitability enhancement, in such continuance, while remaining quite aware that the club owners would scream to high heaven at the mere suggestion of such a “radical” idea.

Technically speaking, these moves could negate the need for post-season playoffs to determine who the World Series rivals are to be, by virtue of simple reversion to former eras, with the winningest teams in each league up against one another.

The above thoughts notwithstanding, we really aren’t that dead set against playoffs each year, as lead-ups to the World Series. Some such practice might well remain under consideration, maybe on a round-robin basis between the four, six, or even eight leading teams from each circuit. This would certainly help satisfy the dollar-mongers who rule the roost, by retaining a bit of the spice which keeps the fans in nail-biting frenzy. You see, we aren’t that old-fashioned and outmoded.

DESIGNATED HITTERS
Countless adjectives immediately come to mind at the very mention of this American League park rule, which began in 1973. Our word list includes stupid, ridiculous, silly, nonsensical, and idiotic for openers, and could likely carry for a mile or so.

Why in God’s name should pitchers be turned into virtual eunuchs when it comes to wielding a bat? Way back when, a hurler who couldn’t hold his own at the plate, or even in another field position when it wasn’t his turn on the mound, would be relegated to the minors with little delay.

We certainly don’t expect our modern-day pitchers to have the hitting talents of a Ruth or the base-circling heroics of a Cobb. The sole need would be for him to take his regular turn at bat and do a reasonably fair job in reaching first base safely from time to time. Sure, his presence at the plate would often constitute a weak spot in the lineup, but with the same handicap applicable to the opposing team as well. Here again, we’re seeking another level playing field situation.

A further deplorable element regarding today’s moundsmen, about which we grudgingly feel that little can be done, is the degree to which they are coddled. You’d swear sometimes that they were made of fragile crystal. We quickly become annoyed upon hearing an announcer’s semi-depressed tone when stating that “Glotzenheimer has thrown almost 100 pitches in this game so far”, meaning he must be relieved soon, or else his arm might fall off.

Undoubtedly, there are testimonials on file from competent physicians to the effect that a pitcher’s efficiency declines significantly after 100 per-game throws, over and above the countless others during the pre-action and between-innings warm-up tosses. Nevertheless, we recall the time when going the full nine added up to a masterful feat, bringing on a sense of true accomplishment as a hurler trudged to the dugout after retiring opponent number 27 in a glorious finish. We sorely miss that now-obsolescent feature. Is there anything so really wrong in allowing a fellow to go the route, just so long as he doesn’t get into too much trouble?

MAPLE BATS
Our blood nearly reaches a boiling point whenever a bat breaks as the ball is hit, followed by a huge, sharp-edged hunk of wood hurling onto the field or elsewhere. This is pretty dangerous business, and all due to using that infernal maple instead of the traditional ash. Earlier this season, a behind-the-plate umpire was actually struck in the head by such a piece of flying lumber.

Without question, maple bats ought to be permanently outlawed before somebody, including maybe a fan, gets blinded, maimed, or even killed by wooden shrapnel. Ash has been in use for ages, and has proven to be far safer.

CHALLENGES AND REPLAYS
How many times have we witnessed a close infield play where the out vs. safe condition is clearly obvious, but with the umpire dead wrong in his call? What can be more disgusting to watch, as the arbiter stands silently and authoritatively, endowed with papal-like infallibility, with no recourse for his error? An onto-the-field charge by a violently protesting manager amounts to an utter waste of effort.

For heaven’s sake, football has effectively adopted a means whereby a coach may challenge a close play call, with resultant need for a relook at the result from alternate camera angles inside a special enclosed viewing booth. In every such case, a potential decision reversal lies in the offing. How long must we continue enduring downright umpire inaccuracy, with no provision for remedy whatsoever? Are we too proud to copycat what the gridiron boys do?

BALLS AND STRIKES
Since we’re already on the subject of umpires, we firmly believe that the heavily padded fellow hunching down behind the catcher has become virtually redundant. Electronic gadgetry is frequently displayed on the TV screen, to indicate precisely where a pitched ball has crossed the plate in relation to the strike zone. Talk about infallibility -- we seem to have it right at our fingertips. Even in a non-televised game, we should be able to put this system into full effect, with maybe a touch more of technology.

We thus envision balls and strikes being determined automatically, rather than by umpires who are known to define the crucial zone perimeter in their own respectively varying terms. Every hitter and pitcher has an awareness of which men apply either “tight” or “liberal” judgment in such regard, and make personal adjustments accordingly. What good lies in perpetuating such inconsistent thinking, when modern technology has provided more workable methods? Once again, we must cite our lack of sentimental ties with the past.

USE OF STEROIDS
The present-day game faces no problem more ticklish than this. We actually find ourselves at both ends of the spectrum from an opinionated viewpoint.

In principle, we feel that a player is entitled to enhance his strength and performance prowess by whatever means he considers appropriate, even if the end results will surely wreak irreparable body damage. That’s for him to decide upon personally. The world doesn’t seem to care if he smokes heavily or drinks to excess when off the field, so why worry over other means of self-destruction?

On the other hand, how can a practice as dangerous as this be condoned, when growing kids stand to be induced to follow suit, and thus better their chances of attaining big league status too? Steroids, therefore, loom as unduly harmful to the country’s athletic youth. How dare we allow their use to continue without the severest of restrictions?

Only one answer seems appropriate here, and that is out-and-out policing and control. It may become necessary to go so far as to extract frequently periodic urine specimens from every player on a surprise basis, following any given game. A person found guilty of steroid use by such means alone would have to be unceremoniously bounced out of baseball, either permanently or at least for an extended period. No other shortcut method looks suitable if we’re going to protect our growing generation.

FREE AGENCY
This is a more or less bonus feature added, because the situation cited can’t be deemed all bad, just a mite deplorable.

We still retain an old-fashioned opinion that an individual player ought to hold continuing loyalty to his current team, provided he’s being treated fairly. Jumping to any other club should lie pretty far down on his to do list, and be carried out only after careful soul-searching.

Perhaps this is totally impractical thinking within our present day and age, but we can’t help holding a dislike for franchise hopping, solely in search of a higher pay check.

Nevertheless, there’s little sense in ignoring the fact that the cause of all this came from club owners’ greed and the virtual slavery contracts the leagues once imposed on players. Whereas the industrial sweatshop days eventually gave way to the organized labor movement, comparable conditions have come to fruition within the baseball universe. Who can blame the franchise jumper, when he’s simply exercising the rights brought about in defiance of those Simon Legree-type moguls?

Consequently, we see no druthers other than to grit our teeth as star performers continuously flit between cities at their legal option, once free agent status goes into effect. Let the owners stew in the mess they created themselves, and endure the added out-of-pocket expense.

PERSONNEL COMPLEMENT EXPLOSION
It’s quite easy to hark back to the era when any given ball club had only a field manager, a coach at first, another at third, a trainer, and a bat boy. Over the past several decades, however, the staff complement has expanded to a point of what appears to be near absurdity.

Today there are pitching coaches, hitting coaches, infield coaches, outfield coaches, bullpen coaches, bench coaches, and God know what else. Our question is whether or not we really need all this vice-presidential baggage.

Ok, we’ll concede to the pitching, hitting, and fielding experts as justifiable, by virtue of said titles. However, what’s the point in paying a fellow to sit out in the bullpen every afternoon or evening and watch relievers warm up? Do his duties involve any more than answering the phone from the dugout, and accordingly informing a couple of the boys to get off their duffs and start tossing a few? Actually, we’d like to know.

As for the bench coach, the only task we can dream up is for him to assign seating places to players when they aren’t on the field. To us, this seems somewhat tantamount to hiring a person to arrange appointments for a one-chair barber shop. Again, are there valid reasons? In any event, this does help create jobs, and that’s what we seem to need these days.

On a related score, why must there be three jovially-voiced announcers to cover every televised game? One fellow used to be enough years ago. Two actually makes some sense, due to provision for additional technical know-how, citing the presence of Joe Morgan along with Jon Miller, for example. Good Lord, though, why should a third guy be required? How soon will the crew sizes be bumped up to four?

STATS, STATS, AND MORE STATS
An unfortunate outshoot of this personnel overexpansion trend is that those announcing gentry are further supported by various technicians and (perhaps worst by far) on-scene statisticians.

As the announcer trios regale the viewing audience with the glorious field events taking place before everyone’s eyes, the stats boys sit nearby with their computers, and continually drum up what often amounts to the game of baseball’s most useless information, merely for its sake.

Will we never cease to be kept apprised of such unimportant matters as Tommy Smithsmythe’s just having hit a double, thus tying the existing record for most two-baggers on a Sunday afternoon in August when the temperature exceeds 70 degrees Fahrenheit? Yes, we’re exaggerating our point, but much of the tripe we get fed game after game sounds almost that ridiculous. Why not have the lads pack up their computers and go someplace to hack?

HALL OF FAME
Although we do deem it most fitting that players be honored annually by means of organized admission to Cooperstown’s hallowed chambers, certain strong feelings persist. We’ve always believed that a chap’s performance on the field ought to be the sole criterion for selection. Whether or not he held up supermarkets, ran internet scams, or frequented brothels after his active days were over should bear no consequence.

There have been debatable cases, but mostly pertinent to playing era activities. Pete Rose’s gambling, albeit on games other than his team’s own, has kept him blackballed. Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, and possibly Alex Rodriguez appear in line for similar fate, due to steroid use untruthfulness. Buck Weaver and Joe Jackson, guilty only of failure to report proposed bribes in the 1919 World Series scandal, remain on the never-never-never list.

Despite his widely-known carousing and womanizing, Babe Ruth was promptly ushered into Cooperstown as a charter member upon its inauguration. Nobody cared about Ty Cobb’s having assaulted a crippled grandstand occupant, Pete Alexander’s chronic drunkenness, not to mention Paul Waner’s, even while on the playing field. There does seem to be a fairly fine line between selectivity on one hand and perpetual rejection on the other.

We’ll close this particular bit, however, by citing an extreme situation where exclusion was perfectly justifiable, no matter how great the fellow performed on the field. Hal Chase, considered by many to be the best defensive first baseman the game ever had, was openly guilty of betting against his own teams (and there were several). His finally being banned, undoubtedly far too late, appears to be grossly insufficient punishment. As far as we’re concerned, he should have been sent before a firing squad. There are limits of corruption, and he surpassed them probably more than anyone else before or since. We hope so, anyway.

BOTTOM OF THE NINTH
Very well then, Fellow Ardent Fans, as Popeye used to say in the Sunday morning comic strips of yesteryear, “Them’s me sediments”. We’d enjoy seeing baseball scaled back somewhat to earlier, more conservative practices, and an increased sense of overall fairness implemented.