We're in Dead-Horse Beating territory here, but it seems as if Major League Baseball has taken a Lilliputian step forward with its decree that from now on intentional walks may simply be signaled by the pitcher, rather than throwing four pitches high and away.
I understand the argument that something unexpected can happen during a purposeful free pass, like a batted ball or a wild pitch, but the larger issue is that baseball is an entertainment business and an intentional walk is as entertaining watching a cat cough up a hairball. (Believe me.)
The time saved on one intentional walk every other game is smaller than the president's credibility, or, if that's not possible, than whatever else you can imagine that would be infinitesimal and undetectable.
Two Simple Solutions
First steps are helpful as long as they're not last steps. Baby steps are fine when followed by giant steps. It's time for MLB to take the two big steps that would really increase the pace of games.
First, of course, enforce the existing rules about getting pitches to the plate when no one is on base. A batter gets in the box and stays there. A pitcher has 20 seconds (or whatever it is) to deliver. Shampoo, rinse, repeat, because human rain delays aren't fun. They make flowers grow, but so does chicken poop.
Second, limit pitching changes during innings. There are a number of ways to do it and it almost doesn't matter which one you choose. Pitching changes are the baseball equivalent of corporate board meetings. They provide all the entertainment value of uranium decaying.
It's not about how long games take; it's about how much action they pack. These two simple changes, one of which isn't even a change, would go a long way towards tilting the ratio of excitement to boredom into positive territory, particularly for the casual fans who will make or break our sport.
David Ortiz's next home run launches him into the rarefied air above Lou Gehrig and solidly in the middle of a Hall of Fame discussion.
The subject has been examined here before:
- he's slightly lacking on the numerical end because his star didn't rise until he was nearly 30;
- his peak is Hall of Fame worthy;
- he is a larger-than-life character and helped bring three world titles to beleaguered Boston;
- he is a DH by necessity, which means he has cost his teams many runs on defense;
- for several years he collected a skein of big hits in key spots that turned around games;
- he allegedly tested positive for steroids before they were outlawed in baseball.
Decide what to make of that brew on your own. That's not the point of this post. But it's worth noting that in the five-year stretch from '03-'07, Big Papi walloped 42 homers a year, knocked in 128 and hit .302/.402/.612, finishing second, third, fourth twice and fifth in the MVP balloting. Want evidence of how fearsome he was? Pitchers intentionally walked him, despite a solid lineup around him, 60 times during that stretch.
All of that is noteworthy while remembering another performer whose Hall of Fame credentials are being debated. Already an MVP and Hall of Famer-to-be, it's generally acknowledged that Barry Bonds began tinkering with the juice after 1998, and from 2000 to 2007 was the most spectacular and dominating hitter ever.
With Ortiz as the benchmark of greatness, here's what you might have forgotten about Bonds: in those eight years he crushed an average of 40 homers and walked 131 times, despite averaging just 123 games played. His slash stats of .322/.517/.724 dwarf Big Papi's -- and everyone else's. Ortiz compiled an OPS 56% above average; Bonds was 121% above average. In other words, Bonds was more than twice the hitter the average player was. He was competing at a whole other level than the next best baseball player in the world.
Remember the year Bonds smashed the home run record, with 73? He walked a league-leading 177 times that year, leaving just 476 opportunities to swing for the fences. The next year he walked 198 times -- with 46 home runs -- and two years later he walked a mind-boggling 232 times and still managed to smash 45 homers in just 373 at bats. That season, 2004, Bonds was 37 years old.
We think of Ortiz as "clutch," but if there was a guy to avoid in a key spot, it was Barry Bonds. Remember those 60 intentional walks for Ortiz over five years? Pitchers purposely sent Bonds to first 60 or more times in each of three seasons. For his steroid period, these were his intentional walk tallies:
2000 - 22
2001 - 35
2002 - 68
2003 - 61
2004 - 120
2005 - hurt most of the season
2006 - 38
2007 - 43
bold = led Majors
That's with Hall of Fame candidate Jeff Kent batting behind him. Bonds earned 688 lifetime intentional passes. That more than all of Hall-of-Famer Jim Rice's walks -- intentional or otherwise -- in a 16-year career.
Bonds also led the league in on base percentage in six of those last seven seasons, including his age 41 and 42 years. That's right, no team would pick up Bonds at age 43 in 2008 because his skills had deteriorated so badly that he could only muster 28 home runs in 126 games, lead the league with a .480 OBP and post an OPS 69% better than average. For good measure, Bonds swiped 30 of 32 bases in his last six campaigns.
It's difficult to describe to someone who didn't experience Bonds's career how devastating and dominating he was in those years. He would wait out pitchers' fearful nibbling until he got a pitch in the zone and then he'd explode on it and send the ball into McCovey Cove. If that pitch never came, he'd diffidently remove his body armor and stroll to first without regret. The entire defensive philosophy against the Giants revolved around Barry Bonds. His body language and personal style were arrogant, self-centered and often brutish. But boy could he rake.
For his career, Bonds won seven MVPs, finished second twice, fourth once, fifth twice and eighth once. He would have fared better but writers didn't understand on base percentage and thought he was a bastard. Imagine if they had liked and appreciated him.
If you ever had the thought that you'd like to see what "so-and-so" could do on steroids, don't bother. We saw what the Willie Mays of the 90s actually did on steroids and it was unimaginable.
