Some thoughts on the MLB rule changes, announced Friday, and set for implementation in 2023:
- The pitch clock may not save the game, but it will make it a whole lot more enjoyable.
The number one complaint from people who don't like baseball, or say that they don't like it as much as they once did, is the pace of game -- or, more accurately, lack thereof.
We've all watched games in which, for a moment, you've wondered if the video feed froze on your TV. A pitcher staring in....and staring....and staring some more. It can be interminable. And it's completely unnecessary.
There's no discernible reason that a pitcher can't deliver a pitch every 15 seconds with the bases empty, or, for that matter, every 20 seconds with baserunners.
I'm all for feeling the drama and anticipation of a pitch in a close game, but we don't need 30 seconds in which absolutely nothing is happening on the field. Fifteen seconds is still plenty of time to build toward the next sequence.
Nor is it necessary for hitters to routinely step out of the box, or adjust their batting gloves or anything else. The new rule mandates that they must be "alert to the pitcher'' with eight seconds remaining on the timer.
It's good, too, that hitters are being held accountable, since a case could be made that they're every bit as responsible for the game's turgid pace. Recall that, six or seven years ago, when MLB announced its attention to limit stepping out, hitters acted as though they were being asked to hit with toothpicks instead of bats. Somehow, the game survived, even if the enforcement campaign did not.
For those who decry that this rule is tantamount to introducing a clock to baseball: nonsense. In no other sport is such inaction tolerated, much less encouraged.
An action-packed game with lots of activity on the bases, a lot of runs (or not) and the outcome in question until the 54th out (or longer) is still possible. But baseball has, finally, ensured that players are no longer entitled to do nothing for extended periods of time.
The introduction of the PitchCom system was already a step in the right direction. Teams no longer have reason to be paranoid about signs being stolen, enabling the pitch-calling to proceed without requiring an act of Congress.
The fact of the matter is, games were simply taking too long. There was no earthly reason for a 2-1 game to routinely take 3.5 hours. Estimates from experiments in the minor leagues reveal that the pitch clock could save as much as 30 minutes per game. Such time savings will make the games more enjoyable and potentially make the game a better TV product. That MLB can now reasonably expect most nine-inning games to be completed in under three hours.
Such a reduction in time won't make MLB overtake the NFL as the most popular TV attraction. But getting games frequently in the 2.5-hour window will likely result in more viewership, increased sponsorship and advertiser interest, and ultimately, make the game more accessible. Imagine not having to carve out a four-hour window for a midweek game in May.
Imagine, too, a world in which Fenway is no longer one-third empty by the bottom of the seventh because fans have work or school the next day to worry about.
- Banning shifts is another positive step.
This one is slightly more controversial, since some believe that MLB is dictating strategy. Opponents of the change have argued that hitters should have learned to cope with the shifts by shooting the ball to the opposite field or bunting more. (The former has some merit; the latter does not. Nobody goes to see the Los Angeles Angels with the hope that they might have occasion to watch Shohei Ohtani drop one down the third-base line).
The emergence -- and subsequent "success"' of such -- did a lot to turn the game into Home Run Derby. Faced with three infielders on the same side of the infield, hitters took to perfect launch angles and every at-bat turned into an effort to hit the ball in the air -- to beat the shifts -- and, eventually, out of the ballpark.
Think about how infrequent rallies have become. Whereas teams once attempted to string together three or four hits in an inning, the game has devolved into hoping that two hitters find their way on base via walks and a three-run homer soon follows. The notion of half the lineup contributing to a big inning seems quaint.
And because teams will be required to place two infielders on either side of second, with the players' feet on the infield dirt, also will result in more spectacular defensive plays. The most athletic infielders -- like Red Sox second baseman Trevor Story -- will once again get to demonstrate their range to reach balls put in play. No longer will infielders be bunched together like a human wall, preventing base hits from reaching the outfield. And no more four-man outfield alignments will be permitted, thus allowing for more extra-base hits and more offense.
To those who maintained that hitters should just "figure it out,'' and hit over and around the shifts....that was tried. It didn't work. It's easy to say that hitters should steer 99 mph fastballs and 92 mph breaking pitches to the opposite field, but as we've witnessed, far harder to execute it.
There's no shame in baseball changing its rules to affect changes to its game. The NFL tweaks its rules all the time to aid the passing game and enhance scoring. The NBA banned zone defenses, introduced the three-second rule in the key and added the three-point shot. The NHL enabled two-line passes and restricted where goalies could handle the puck.
Each of these were in response to what was happening to the games in question. It didn't require a constitutional amendment; all that was needed was an acknowledgment that improvements were needed. There was no hand-wringing or apologies in place, or fretting that the purists would be offended. These were simple rule changes to make the product more enjoyable. Period.
- Call me skeptical about the impact of bigger bases.
MLB maintains that this is partly a safety feature -- bigger bags mean fewer collisions, theoretically -- but also one designed to encourage more stolen base attempts.
For the time being, I remain unconvinced that it will accomplish that, in and of itself. But given that so many stolen bases are inherently bang-bang plays, maybe there's something to that. The difference of an inch or two could make the difference between an out and safe call.
But another change -- limiting the number of pickoff attempts per plate appearance to two, with the third attempt resulting either in a successful pickoff or the runner being given the next base on a balk.
In the minors, stolen base attempts have gone through the roof. After two pickoffs, there's no disincentive for a baserunner not to take a huge lead. And because the bases are a couple of inches closer due to expanded size, the next base is literally closer than ever. In some minor leagues where the pickoff rule was instituted, stolen base attempts soared by better than 50 percent.
Will catchers be evaluated differently now? And if robot umps are around the corner, will pitch-framing be completely disregarded, with arm strength now the most sought-after skill?
Who knows, for now. But watching how the game adapts to all of this will be part of the fun.
- Rob Manfred's legacy could be in for a dramatic upgrade.
Until now, Manfred has invited criticism from all sides. Players -- current and retired -- were convinced he didn't care about the game. Fans were irate that he wasn't harder on the Astros' sign-stealing scandal and his ability to broker a deal last winter without a delay to the season. Some have been offended by his treatment of minor leaguers and their sometimes inhumane living conditions.
But now, Manfred has a chance to redeem himself. If the new rules shorted game times, improve the product on the field and grow the game's appeal, many -- if not all -- of his past transgressions will be forgiven.
Argue if you will that Manfred was too timid in bringing about change, and that rules like the pitch timer should have happened long ago. But Manfred was reluctant to antagonize the Players Association further and wisely waited until a new CBA was in place and there was peace at hand in the game before implementing these changes.
Which brings us to...
- The PA's intransigence on these issue has been infuriating.
The players on the committee -- they held four of the 11 seats -- were united in their opposition to the pitch timer and the banning of shifts.
A case could be made to study the impact of the shifts more, but outright opposition to the pitch timer is absurd. You'd be stunned at the number of players with whom I've spoken who, straight-faced, ask why the length of games is problematic.
In the abstract, their opposition is somewhat understandable. Players are creatures of habit, and none of us enjoy being told that we have to change how we perform our job.
But the inability to recognize how the glacial pace of play was negatively impacting the game's appeal is breathtaking. Do the players not see the ballpark one-third empty in the later innings? Do they not see the trend of declining ratings for nationally televised games? Do they not recognize how far baseball has slipped in the national sports conversation.
Yes, this is their livelihood, and yes, it's understandable that they would be resistant to radical changes being made to it.
But at some point, this is less about changes to the game, and more a consumer satisfaction issue. Attention has either leveled off or declined across the sport. There are more options available than ever before for the fan dollar. And those unwilling to commit almost four hours for a nine-inning game are going to find other pursuits in which to invest their time and money.
Players operate in a vacuum. It's their nature. But the refusal to recognize that a large swatch of fans wanted meaningful change -- and the potential fallout if those changes weren't adopted -- is an indication that players are more out of touch with paying customers than ever before.
That's a recipe for disaster in the long run. I've long maintained that the biggest threat to professional sports is the suspicion that the games aren't on the up-and-up and that some predestined outcomes are at work. When a fan believes that the competition is no longer legitimate, the appeal of games is destroyed forever.
Next up, however, is the feeling that the participants -- players, coaches, owners, officials -- don't care what the fans think or want.
This past week, against the players' full-throated objections, change came to baseball. If they have their desired impact, it won't much matter that the players fought this every step of the way.
But it will remain a sad commentary that the players themselves were on the wrong side of history.