The game of baseball has been with us since the latter part of the 19th century, and has been a ritual of summer ever since. And like all sports, it fell victim to the coronavirus pandemic, and has been shut down so far in 2020, to my own personal chagrin.
Baseball is the only sport that I follow with any enthusiasm. Sorry, Bulldog Nation, but any sport with a clock drives me absolutely crazy. "Only five minutes to go, fans!" and in twenty minutes, there are still THREE minutes to go. Puh-leeze!
NASCAR? Three hours of a bunch of race cars with garish advertising turning left, and I'm supposed to get excited? Yawn.
Soccer? Yes, I watch intently every game my superstar son plays, because at THAT level, you can see some scoring! But any game that can end in a tie should not qualify as a sport.
But baseball, in its purest form makes me very happy. I like the pace, I like the players, I like the rhythm of the game. No sport is better suited for radio, and I remember combatting homesickness in sleepaway camp by listening through headphones to the enthusiastic tones of Harry Kalas and Richie Ashburn keeping me up to date on my beloved Philadelphia Phillies. I have great memories of going with my dad to that great armpit of sports arenas, Veterans Stadium, and a more recent trip to the beautiful Citizen's Bank Park, in which we were caught up in a monsoon that cost me my smartphone. My brother-in-law snagged me the only bobblehead doll in my collection ... Harry and Richie with microphones in hand. It resides proudly on my desk, and my autographed photo of Greg "the Bull" Luzinski, my all-time favorite player, hangs in my game room.
"So how about those Red Sox?" Sorry. That's American League. Not real baseball. Why? The labor union's pride and joy, the designated hitter. In case you're not into baseball (and if not, why are you still here, but I thank you), the designated hitter is a player in the lineup that bats instead of the pitcher. I absolutely loathe the designated hitter rule, because it takes a major piece of field management completely out of play. Your team is down by two, your pitcher is still doing fairly well, but he's coming up to bat with runners on first and third. What do you do? Pull him for a pinch hitter? Have him bunt and trade an out for another runner in scoring position? No problem with a designated hitter. The pitcher, notoriously the weakest bat in the lineup (BOY do I miss local legend Micah Owings), never hits.
The latest plan to return MLB to our lives looks like an 82 game schedule to start around the first of July, and among the other rule changes being considered is finally bringing the designated hitter to the National League. Sigh. So now NO one will play real baseball anymore.
I realize that rule changes are part of the game, and there are some that I'm very happy about. I like the notion of having each reliever, barring injury, being forced to face a minimum of three batters. That was a mainstay in the game as recently as the 70s, and switching pitchers between each of the last half dozen hitters in the ball game REALLY drags things out to a laborious extent. I like limiting the amount of time batters are permitted outside the batter's box. I like limiting (although not TOO much) time between pitches. But the designated hitter to me takes away a major turning point or two from each game played.
Don't try and tell me, "Bill, it's just for this year. It's okay." Mark my words, once this rule creeps its way into the senior circuit it will never leave.
Another potential deal-breaker? The rule stating that each half inning after nine will begin with a runner on second base. The idea behind this is to make it easier to break ties quicker. I saw this in practice last year when I attended a Gwinnett Stripers AAA game. The result was that each team found it easier to score exactly one run, preserving the tie for three more innings. Thankfully, that rule, originally proposed for this season, appears to have fallen by the wayside.
I will miss baseball. With its departure, I will truly be without a sport to call my own. Guess it will be time for me to once again petition ESPN to air the Monopoly Championship every year. Maybe with some preliminary rounds! Of course, if the baseball gods get their hands on it, they'll likely ruin that by invoking the Free Parking rule.
