On baseball

I watched Game 7 of the World Series the other day. Okay, it was like six weeks ago. I hadn't watched an entire baseball game in a long time. It ended at 11:55. 

I grew up on baseball. All of us in the neighborhood played and watched. I became a Yankee fan because my friend and his family were Yankee fans. In '96, when the Yanks came back from down 0-2 against the defending champion Atlanta Braves to win it all in 6, a bunch of the neighborhood kids went running up and down the street screaming. I didn't go out and join them, it was late and I was 12. My parents were asleep and would not have been pleased. 

Maybe it's a myth but I grew on a game in which the little things mattered. We were taught situational baseball: moving the runner over, the sacrifice fly, stealing bases, the hit and run, first and third plays, you know, the fundamentals. We were taught to shorten up when you have two strikes; put the ball in play, you never know what will happen. 

There is a movie called Little Big League where a kid tries to prove his baseball knowledge by answering questions like "runners on 2nd and 3rd, one out, Jackson at the plate, what do you do?" In fact, I found the clip, watch it yourself. It seems that these questions no longer exist. No one plays situational baseball. The answer is always "swing for the fences." 

There are just so many things that we learned in high school baseball, the fundamentals, the little things, that I rarely see in a Major League Baseball game. The game is so much more interesting with runners on base; for the pitcher and catcher, for the infielders, for the fans, and even for the outfielders. Without runners on base you may as well put a backstop, or a net behind the plate because you sure don't need a catcher. 

Without going into statistical geek-mode, there are more strikeouts, walks, and homeruns than ever before. And I don't know that I can argue with its efficacy, but all of it means fewer balls are being put in play, and the defense does even more disinterested standing around. Whether on the field or in the stands, runners on base turns up the excitement. Just to work in a hockey reference: defending with runners on base is like defending a power play, there is a nervous energy and the hope that you'll just get through it.

Why is this happening? Part of it is the Moneyball approach. And I don't think that's necessarily the appropriate name but it seems to have legs. Don't even think about swinging at the first pitch; work the count, a walk is as good as a hit. Stealing a base is not worth the risk of making an out. Make the pitcher throw as many pitches as possible. Tire him out; get him out of the game. Live by the mantra: outs are precious. Don't give away outs with sacrifice bunts, flies, or otherwise. 

That approach takes so much of the athleticism out of the game. It's like watching a quarterback that never throws deep, or the NBA eliminating the dunk. I want to see a play at the plate. I want to see the runner try to take the extra base, force the outfielder to make a perfect throw, and then tip his cap if it happens. Watch an old clip of Jackie Robinson leading off first and listen to the announcer's excitement. Every eyeball in the park is watching Jackie dance off first, hoping he goes.

Pitchers all throw hard. Everyone seems to want to be a strikeout pitcher, a Roger Clemens. Is anyone trying to be Greg Maddux? Would anyone with an 88 mph fastball and pinpoint control even make the major leagues? 

It's the same with the hitters. There was a time when middle infielders were known for their gloves. Ozzie Smith, and many before him, made the Hall of Fame for his glove. It seems that now, just to get a shot in the majors you have to hit 400 foot homers. Fans still love and revere Derek Jeter.  Derek Jeter was primarily a singles hitter who was not opposed to lining the first pitch out to right. 

NBA people sometimes say that everyone has become obsessed with drafting that superhuman athleticism. That's the Jordan effect. Skill level becomes an afterthought because "you can teach skill" but "you can't teach size, or quickness, or jumping ability". I imagine it's the same in baseball: flash gets noticed. Unless you're a catcher, fundamentals don't count.