Dunkirk NY – Baseball’s spring training begins today, as pitchers and catchers report to almost every MLB training camp. For me, it’s the earliest harbinger of spring, and the most welcome one. My passion for baseball remains as one of the few things that has been constant throughout my lifetime, and as such I have a fierce devotion to it.
Since the days of Mantle and Maris chasing the Babe’s home run record, I have been a fan of baseball and of my hometown club, the NY Yankees. This year they look stacked, with a strong lineup, a deep bench, a talented farm system, and quality pitching. I think the pitching is probably the weak link, but we shall see how far it all takes us. Hope is the key ingredient for a successful spring training.
Aging, as I have experienced it, is the slow process of watching things slip away. As a human experience, aging tests the quality of how we handle loss, and how that shapes our relationships with people and things around us. While it has changed, I have not lost baseball yet (as I have football; no great loss there), but I suspect over time I will. There are essences in the game that I think will always be there, and that is what I have to continue to remind myself as I watch the game change over time.
The essence of baseball, for me, lies in two aspects of the game. The first is the challenge of hitter and pitcher. Each at-bat is an individual struggle for success; the pitcher must successfully record an out, and the hitter must successfully reach base. The pitcher has the advantage always, as hitting a round object coming at you at 90+ MPH from 60’6″ away (the ball) with another round object (the bat) is one of the hardest physical tasks to accomplish. If you can reach base successfully 3 out of 10 times, you are considered a great hitter, so the failure rate is high. And yet, hitting the ball can be accomplished just enough times that runs can score and the game can be won or lost.
The second aspect is the distance between bases: 90 feet. All throughout the history of the game, there has never been a runner so fast that he can beat out a routine ground ball to an infielder for a hit. I am unaware that any scientific research went into the decision to make the bases 90 feet apart, but that exact distance seems to be the very one that makes the goal of reaching first base on a routine ground ball seem possible, and yet simultaneously not possible. Were the bases 85 feet apart, every ground ball would be a hit. Were they 95 feet apart, the realization of impossibility would completely negate the attempt to reach first base. Usually runners are put out by one or two steps, making the attempt close, and the need to execute the fielding of the ball and throwing it to first base precise.
These aspects of the game won’t change because they are indelibly human: how fast a pitcher can throw, how accurately a hitter can swing the bat, how fast a runner can run. The old baseball adage “you throw the ball, you hit the ball, you catch the ball” truly sums up the human and athletic qualities of the sport. What will change the game – and signs of this are consistently creeping into discussions about the game’s future – are all the non-human elements, the technological ones.
I had a horrible realization during Game 2 of the 2017 ALDS, when NYY manager Joe Girardi chose not to ask for a replay of a pitch that hit the knob of Lonnie Chisenhall’s bat, but was ruled a “hit by pitched ball” by home plate umpire Dan Iassogna, thus awarding first base to Chisenhall. While New York’s catcher Gary Sanchez was telling his manager that the ball hit the bat and was a foul tip, and to look at the replay, Girardi instead chose to rely on what his replay people were telling him, which was nothing. In that moment, Girardi chose to believe his technology people, and not his catcher. He chose not to challenge the call. The irony of this moment is that, by not believing his human catcher, who was calling for a technological solution for the situation, Girardi failed both his human player and the technology that was supposed to rectify the situation. With the bases now loaded, the next batter, Francisco Lindor, promptly hit a grand slam home run. The Yankees went on to lose the game 9-8 in 13 innings.
This is what will slowly change the game over time – the increasing reliance on technology over humanity. The mantra of those favoring technology is “getting it right,” while the cry of those who oppose more technology is “the beauty of human failure.” More technology is in the offing for baseball, such as a “robot umpire” to call balls and strikes by computer (making the televised “K-Zone” the actual arbiter), and the greatest of all evils, a pitch clock, which will for the first time introduce the element of time to the game, an unbelievable imposition into the beauty of the game (time stops in baseball, one of its greatest charms). The belief is that the game is now too slow and too inaccurate for the younger generation, and so to make the game more appealing, these changes must be incorporated.
Maybe so. And maybe over the course of the next 20 years or so I will lose baseball as I have lost other beliefs and interests. Steroids, instant replay, and pitch clocks are all slowly changing the attitude towards the game: win at any cost, get it right, speed it up. The new science of sabermetric statistics will make the game more efficient and reduce manager error. And Statcast will relieve us of the necessity of staring in awe at a Mike Trout catch in center field because we will know that it took him 8.7 seconds to travel 177 feet over the 98% most efficient route to the ball, with a vertical leap of 5’4″ to make the catch. I never knew any of that information about the Mick’s catches in Yankee Stadium’s center field. All I knew was, he was amazing to watch – simply watch – play the game.
In the meantime, all is not lost. A new generation of ballplayers is coming who play the game with exuberance and flair. Bat flips are in, emotions can be released, styling is gaining a place in the game. All is not lost – yet. The only loser at the moment is me. I was supposed to be in Arizona this month, enjoying the warmth and a few spring training games. Idiot that I am, I took a role in a show, which leaves me cold and dreary in western NY. But today is a day to tune in to MLB network and catch the first thud, the first smack of ball into leather. That will bring a ray of sunshine to the day, and, as always, hope for a NYY championship season. -twl