With the second half of the season underway, as we barrel into the dog days of August, now seems as good a time as any to share our thoughts on the changes adopted by Major League Baseball over the last couple of years,
Baseball is often romanticized as some never-changing artifact of Americana. This image, though, has never been accurate. Baseball gloves have grown from, essentially, the size of standard gloves one might wear on a chilly day to large, webbed contraptions in which even the screamingest of line drives can be easily handled. Batting helmets have presumably saved many a life--or at least prevented many a concussion--since their introduction in the 1940s. Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier long after Ty Cobb broke the racist barrier--I kid, I kid: There were ALWAYS racists in baseball. Still, certain fundamental aspects of the game have never changed: The pitcher's mound (or, more specifically, the rubber thereon) has always sat 60 feet, six inches from home plate. The distance between bases has never shrunk from 90 feet. The Yankees have always been despicable. This bedrock of unshakable tradition has allowed the game to evolve around the edges and so to remain just as exciting--or, to haters, boring--as ever.
The last two years, though, have seen some major changes, mainly adopted in response to the pandemic-forced shortening of the 2020 season. Apparently, some of these changes are to be discarded after this year, but let's take a moment to review them and consider which worked well and which should rightly be eliminated.
We begin our discussion today with:
The Three-Batter Rule
Many changes recently adopted by the lords of baseball concern efforts to accelerate the "pace of play." MLB feared that fans were turned off by lengthy games, and so sought ways to speed things up. There are now rules about how long a pitcher can take between pitches--rules which I've never seen actually enforced--and limitations on the number of times the catcher or manager can visit the pitcher's mound during a game. Perhaps the most significant rule-change of this type, though, is one requiring any pitcher brought into a game to face at least three batters.
This is a good rule. It prevents a manager from, say, bringing in a right-handed pitcher to face a right-handed batter, and then replacing that pitcher with a leftie to face a leftie. . . and then replacing that leftie with another rightie. . . .and on and on ad infinitum as the viewing audience slowly dies. And yes, this sort of thing would frequently happen, while announcers inevitably--and futilely--tried to sell us on the beauty of this time-honored baseball strategy. So while the three-batter rule has somewhat diminished the market for that most fabled of baseball professionals, the left-handed specialist, it has sped up this one aspect of the game.
I should state at this point that I, myself, am unconvinced that "pace of play" really is a problem. Certainly, baseball games can often last far longer than any disinterested observer would consider necessary, but why must baseball pander to the disinterested observer? To those who enjoy baseball, the comparatively languid pace--when measured against, say, basketball or hockey or high-speed mouse-tossing--is a feature, not a bug. Baseball will never be a high-velocity sport; no need to try to make it into one.
Still and all, though, constant pitching changes, with pitchers accompanied by the "Final Jeopardy" theme music as they stroll in from the bullpen, with strategy conversations with the manager and infielders, with the (at least) eight warmup pitches--these can get kind of tedious even for the most dedicated baseball enthusiast. Plus, it is interesting to watch left-handed pitchers who haven't faced a right handed batter since the Clinton administration suddenly, unavoidably, staring down the likes of Mike Trout or Pete Alonso in a high-pressure situation.
Good rule! Keep it!
On deck: Seven-inning double-headers
