Thoughts on Baseball

Is any sport better than baseball?  There's action.  There's thought.  There's debate.  There's the unquestioned skill top-flight players possess.

I was at a Tiger game last night.  (Thanks, Wes!)  It reminded me of how much more there is to see in a live game than in merely watching it on the boob tube.  There's almost too much for one person to see--almost.

I am struck by how very talented Major League players are.  From 60' 6" away, try to hit a small spheroid less than 3" in diameter that is thrown at more than 90 mph.  Oh, use a rounded object, a bat, and remember that the ball isn't just going fast, it's moving--up and down, in and out, often sharply.  From the pitchers' side, not only do they throw the ball that fast, but they make it move.  It's not overly difficult to hit a fast pitch, well, OK, it's not easy, but the key to getting MLB players out is often trickery, "trickeration."  The speed of the pitch, its location, and the direction it ends of going all are determined by the pitcher.  I remember batting against Billy Hoeft, a former Tiger pitcher.  He was a left-hander and I batted left-handed.  He started a curve ball behind me and I bailed out, then saw the break, the late break, and fully expected the pitch to be called a strike.  Nope, the umpire said ball.  Somewhat perplexed, I asked him where the pitch was.  "Outside," he said.  Whoa!

I noted to a buddy last night at how quick, so very quick, MLB players turn the double play.  Very routine ground balls, slow rollers even, become two outs just like that.  And it all looks so easy.  I know it's not, not at all.

Their physical abilities astound me, having played a bit myself.  I think, above all, what impresses me are their arms, their throwing abilities.  Most of them have cannons for arms; they just rifle the ball.  Watch the best of the throwers.  Their throws take off and, instead of beginning to die halfway to their destinations, they get added zip.

I played with and against some very, very good baseball players.  I think I once tried to remember how many of them eventually made the Major Leagues, if only for a cup of coffee.  I came up with more than two dozen!  One team I played on had not one, not two, but three number one draft choices!  Another sandlot team, if we include the four players we picked up for the national championship series/playoffs, had 15 of 19 play college ball or were drafted by Big League teams.  But what I think about most, of those past days, is those who didn't make it.  In fact, some of them didn't get signed or drafted at all.  I wonder why they didn't. A couple in particular stand out.  We always had really good pitching, but we never seemed to get these guys out.  And they always hit ropes, in BP, in games, in my dreams (nightmares?).  When I think of these guys, how good they were, and that they didn't make it, I realize just how good Major League players are.  And I remember that when fans get on the worst of the MLB players.

That said, that I marvel at how these guys can throw, hit, pitch, run, etc., I don't think that they are necessarily better at playing the game than players of previous times, even back to when I played.  I was reminded of that last night.  For guys making millions of dollars, whose jobs are, frankly, playing baseball, they sure don't play it right.  There are lots of blunders.  I'm not talking about physical errors; everyone can see those.  I'm talking about not doing the right things, very rudimentary things, that maybe five or six people in the stadium last night saw.  I'm not even sure the managers saw them; if they did, they didn't let on.

I'm not talking about differences in philosophy, no.  That's part of the game and part of its allure.  For instance, the Tigers had two on and nobody out in the fourth inning (I think) of a scoreless game.  Why not bunt?  I surely would have, but the Tiger manager opted not to do so.  I'm not at all saying he was stupid or even that he was wrong.  It is just that I would have done something different.  As it turned out, the one I would have had bunt struck out and the next batter hit into a double play--inning and threat over.  I'm sure, at other times, big hits and even home runs were hit in similar situations.  I just prefer playing things a bit differently.  I'm also not a big fan of "pitch counts."  I know managers are not only worried about winning games, esp the one at hand, but also have to consider pitchers throwing out their arms, shortening careers and whatnot.  Still 100 pitches or so seems very arbitrary to me, esp with some of these big, strong guys who pitch today.  One might argue that with the specialized bullpens, pulling a starter after 100 or so pitches is the way to go.  OK, I understand.  But as a batter, I'd rather face anyone in the Tiger bullpen than, say, Max Scherzer in the 7th or 8th or 9th inning.

In being somewhat critical, I'm talking about playing the game.  Here are just some, some, examples from last night.  I wonder how many people even saw them.  The Tigers had runners on first and second, a different time than above.  This time they held a small lead, but a small one.  A deep fly ball was lifted to the corner in right field, which the right fielder caught before crashing into the wall.  I noticed the runner on first tagging to head to second, but he had to stop and head back to first.  Why?  The runner on second was playing it halfway, not tagging.  Huh?  So, now it's still first and second, but with one out, instead of second and third with one out.  Earlier, the Rockies pulled in their infield to cut down a runner at the plate.  (I once read that a hitter's BA goes up .100 points with the infield drawn in; I don't know if that's true, but it makes a lot of sense.)  Now they don't have to and, of course, a ground ball up the middle is turned into a double play, ending the inning, again.  Now, at the least, had the runner tagged and gone to third, he would have scored.  With the likelihood of a drawn-in infield, perhaps a second run would have scored, opening a four-run lead.  Nope.

Earlier, still in a game with no score, a Rockies' hitter smacked one to left center, a sure single.  But no, it turned into a stand-up double.  The Tiger center fielder was playing so deep, by the time he reached the ball, the batter was able to easily take another base, putting himself in scoring position.  Why play so deep?  Fear of the ball going over the fielder's head?  Bah.  But, it gets worse.  The runner didn't advance to third with a swinging bunt the pitcher had to scramble to get the batter at first.  I looked up and the runner was still on second, not third.  What was he thinking--or not thinking?  The next batter lifted a medium-deep fly ball, easily deep enough to score a runner from third, but there was no runner on third.  It was just and out and the runner didn't score--in a 0-0 game at the time.

Later, with the Tigers holding a slim lead in the late innings, a Rockies' batter hit a ground ball down the third base line for a double.  It wasn't a rocket, but a hard-hit ground ball.  Wait a minute!  Why wasn't the third baseman guarding the line, to force the Rockies to get two hits, not one, to put someone in scoring position in a close game?  Hmmm......  My buddy asked if that wasn't the manager's (or one of the myriad coaches') fault; after all, there is an infield coach!  Good point, but......  Even though the Tigers' third baseman is a rookie, why didn't he know this?  Why didn't he know to guard the line?  Where has he been, playing all this baseball in little league, high school, college, the minor leagues, and now the Major Leagues?  Now, the ball might well have still been a double; I don't know.  But the third baseman should have been closely guarding the line to try to prevent that.

Another time, an outfielder took a ball off the wall with his glove hand, not his meat hand.  There wasn't a close play, but there could have been.  Going with the meat hand would have saved two or three steps, which might have spelled the difference on a close play in a close game.  It didn't last night, but in the course of a season, it might affect a few games.

Again, I'm not running down the players, whose ability I respect a great deal.  I just wonder how, if a team really stressed fundamentally sound baseball, much better it could be, even relative to more talented, but less sound teams.