We who enjoy baseball are often lectured that today’s athletes
are among the finest who ever competed and that all but a few of
those in ages past could hope to compete at their high level of
physical fitness. We’re also told that continental flights across
three time zones are more exhausting than the train trips that took
former Major Leaguers only as far as the Midwest.
Now I’m not a professional athlete, but I know from personal
experience that even a trans-Atlantic flight is easier on the body
than an eighteen-hour Amtrak journey from New York to Chicago, let
alone one made in the old days before shock absorbers and
air-conditioning became standard equipment. As for jet lag, what
time does the average player get out of bed and go to the ballpark
anyway?
And as far as today’s jocks being “bigger, stronger and faster,”
I’ll allow that this is probably true given today’s emphasis on
weight-training. But when it comes to being in “baseball shape,”
I’d argue that this obsession with body-building doesn’t seem to be
doing them much good.
Today, nearly any injury requires not only a stint on the
disabled list, but seemingly endless minor-league rehab
assignments. Hardly a day goes by without one of these hearty
super-athletes getting injured, sometimes merely swinging the bat
or running to first base. And this is even more true of pitchers.
Is there any fan who can deny that they wince when their ace makes
contact with the ball and begins his not-so-excellent adventure
around the diamond?
JUST LAST WEEK we witnessed the sickening spectacle of a pitcher —
a member of the latest generation of technologically-trained
supermen to whom men like Babe Ruth couldn’t hold a candle —
injuring himself while engaged in an action most of us have
performed hundreds if not thousands of times in our lives. New York
Yankees right-hander, Chien-Ming Wang pulled up limping like a lame
racehorse rounding third base during an interleague game in
Houston.
This prompted Yankee heir Hank Steinbrenner to chastise MLB for
having AL pitchers bat during interleague games: “Pitchers have
enough to do without having to do that.” This, of course, provoked
howls of indignation among those who disdain the idea of the
designated hitter rule, but the man has a point. I’ve made no
secret of what I think
about interleague play — an abomination that has, among other
things, disrupted baseball’s formerly balanced and equitable
scheduling — but the least that the NL could do would be to use
the DH in all games between the leagues and spare us all a lot of
pain.
We’ve been told ad nauseam that the high batting
averages of older ballplayers wouldn’t be possible today if they
faced pitchers highly skilled in areas of specialization. I don’t
buy it, but then why not carry this argument further when
discussing the DH? If modern pitching is such an exact science —
as if non-starting pitchers of the past simply hung around the
bullpen and collected paychecks from big spenders like Frank Navin
and Charles Comiskey — then let’s admit that as hitters or
all-around ballplayers, today’s pitchers are not trained or even
expected to hit.
Let us be honest. If, as is regularly posited by NL fans, that
all nine men in their lineup are “real” ballplayers, why is it that
when a popup floats near the center of the diamond, every infielder
will call for the ball to spare his pitcher the ignominy of
tripping over the rubber? What other batter almost invariably bunts
with one out? And why do teams position their outfielders at Little
League depth when the opposing hurler is at the dish, a strategy
that once in a blue moon results in what I call a “pitcher’s
double”?
Actually, the case can be made that an AL team with a DH is more
a lineup of all-around ballplayers than is the NL version. After
all, which occurs more often: an AL DH plays the field or an NL
pitcher is called on to pinch-hit? The only real benefit to letting
pitchers bat in the NL is that they basically get two to three
innings off each game when their fellow pitchers perform at their
rally-killing best. An AL pitcher actually faces a lineup more akin
to that of his predecessors, who were expected to face a lineup of
nine hitters.
AND PLEASE DON’T sing me the old tune about pitchers being
dissuaded from throwing beanballs in the NL because they too have
to come to bat. It’s a myth
that’s been around for far too long. Pitchers like and respect
other pitchers who basically pose no batting threat to them; it’s
batters who can actually hit that they don’t like. To appreciate
this, one has only to recall the famous beaning of Mike Piazza by
Yankee Roger Clemens in 2000 and how it was handled by Mets pitcher
Shawn Estes.
And as far as the vaunted superior strategy employed in the
Senior Circuit, consider this from much respected manager Jim Leyland: “I think managing in the American
League is much more difficult…In the National League, my
situation is dictated for me. If I’m behind in the game, I’ve got
to pinch-hit. I’ve got to take my pitcher out. In the American
League, you have to zero in. You have to know exactly when to take
[pitchers] out of there. In the National League, that is done for
you.”
Let’s face it; the overwhelming majority of today’s pitchers
have no more business up at bat or on the base paths than do I. If
they are the specialists that they are purported to be, then so be
it. There’s nothing special about them at bat.
