While performing household tasks of an urgent personal nature over the long holiday weekend, I listened to a whole bunch of baseball on the radio. It was total old-school immersion, with a circa-1977 transistor radio capturing the faraway signal and my uniform of plaid shorts with blue socks painting me as the paragon of style. I drank lots of lemonade and cleared my throat every two minutes.
Somehow, though, the experience wasn’t as pure as I expected. Why? Because a large percentage of baseball’s radio announcers are stuck in the 1970s for real—and they’re not alone. Despite the technological and statistical modernization of the game, purists remain bound to the conventions of the baseball of yesteryear. I’m not saying they’re old, but… well, they’re old-minded, in a way that closes their eyes to the revolutionary thinking that has pervaded the game over the last 15 years.
As such, they involuntarily produce bucketfuls of drool whenever ballplayers perform certain tasks, whether or not those tasks actually correlate to winning in the post-Moneyball era. The things that make them feel all tingly downstairs, in no particular order, include…
1. The sacrifice bunt: Was it Alfred Lord Tennyson or Alfredo Griffin who once wrote, “Tis nobler to have bunted and lost than ne’er to have bunted at all”? Outs are a precious commodity—a team gets only three per inning, as I understand it—and shouldn’t be given away unless the hitter is so profoundly inept as to practically guarantee a negative result. This is math, not speculation. Yet we’re still treated to roaring euphonies anytime Derek Jeter, who has long since secured a spot on the Mount Rushmore of selflessness, sacrifices himself in the interest of advancing a teammate homeward.
No. Just, no. As a rule, the only players who should ever bunt, regardless of game circumstance, are pitchers and Brad Ausmus. Learn it. Live it.
2. Players who “show a little fire out there”: A.k.a. players who “hustle” and players who “get their uniforms dirty.” Ask any baseball historian worth his salt and you’ll learn that the game’s great dynasties had two things in common: an inordinately high dry-cleaning bill and lots of dirt burns on their elbows. The 1927 Yankees were the first team to hire a clubhouse maid. Members of the 1975 Reds invented Neosporin. These players were as fiery as they were full of fire. They raged, raged against the dying of the light, or at least they did in the era before night games.
Scott Brosius had fire; Alex Rodriguez only has extra-base hits. Clearly, this explains why one player’s hand is weighed down by championship rings and the other’s isn’t.
3. Catchers: Catchers control the game, dontcha know. They call the pitches. They ask for—and receive—complete obedience. If they don’t, they run out to the mound and delay the game until the pitcher falls in line. All is quickly forgiven with a warm, affirming slap on the ass.
Catchers also block the plate, supposedly at great risk to life and limb even though they’re wearing Kevlar-reinforced padding and the baserunner isn’t. They are great men. No, strike that—they are great leaders of great men. They are Jason Varitek.
4. Pitchers who throw inside: Pitchers don’t do this because hitters can’t drive the ball when they’re unable to extend their arms. No, they do this because they are set on intimidation, and with intimidation comes the respect of one’s peers. It’s better to have a high ERB (earned respect bountifulness) than a low ERA, apparently.
Pitchers own the plate. It says so right there on the side. No, on the other side. If you suggest otherwise to a baseball purist, you better get comfortable, because a 47-minute monologue about Bob Gibson’s nasty streak is sure to follow.
5. Advancing the runner: This is the ultimate selfless act, the one that Joan of Arc herself would’ve performed with great and forbidding fervor had she not shredded her left knee after being drafted out of Wichita State by the Blue Jays. To move a runner from second to third at the expense of one’s own batting average? O sweet martyrdom, I await thy savage embrace!
Somehow, though, the experience wasn’t as pure as I expected. Why? Because a large percentage of baseball’s radio announcers are stuck in the 1970s for real—and they’re not alone. Despite the technological and statistical modernization of the game, purists remain bound to the conventions of the baseball of yesteryear. I’m not saying they’re old, but… well, they’re old-minded, in a way that closes their eyes to the revolutionary thinking that has pervaded the game over the last 15 years.
As such, they involuntarily produce bucketfuls of drool whenever ballplayers perform certain tasks, whether or not those tasks actually correlate to winning in the post-Moneyball era. The things that make them feel all tingly downstairs, in no particular order, include…
1. The sacrifice bunt: Was it Alfred Lord Tennyson or Alfredo Griffin who once wrote, “Tis nobler to have bunted and lost than ne’er to have bunted at all”? Outs are a precious commodity—a team gets only three per inning, as I understand it—and shouldn’t be given away unless the hitter is so profoundly inept as to practically guarantee a negative result. This is math, not speculation. Yet we’re still treated to roaring euphonies anytime Derek Jeter, who has long since secured a spot on the Mount Rushmore of selflessness, sacrifices himself in the interest of advancing a teammate homeward.No. Just, no. As a rule, the only players who should ever bunt, regardless of game circumstance, are pitchers and Brad Ausmus. Learn it. Live it.
2. Players who “show a little fire out there”: A.k.a. players who “hustle” and players who “get their uniforms dirty.” Ask any baseball historian worth his salt and you’ll learn that the game’s great dynasties had two things in common: an inordinately high dry-cleaning bill and lots of dirt burns on their elbows. The 1927 Yankees were the first team to hire a clubhouse maid. Members of the 1975 Reds invented Neosporin. These players were as fiery as they were full of fire. They raged, raged against the dying of the light, or at least they did in the era before night games.
Scott Brosius had fire; Alex Rodriguez only has extra-base hits. Clearly, this explains why one player’s hand is weighed down by championship rings and the other’s isn’t.
3. Catchers: Catchers control the game, dontcha know. They call the pitches. They ask for—and receive—complete obedience. If they don’t, they run out to the mound and delay the game until the pitcher falls in line. All is quickly forgiven with a warm, affirming slap on the ass.
Catchers also block the plate, supposedly at great risk to life and limb even though they’re wearing Kevlar-reinforced padding and the baserunner isn’t. They are great men. No, strike that—they are great leaders of great men. They are Jason Varitek.
4. Pitchers who throw inside: Pitchers don’t do this because hitters can’t drive the ball when they’re unable to extend their arms. No, they do this because they are set on intimidation, and with intimidation comes the respect of one’s peers. It’s better to have a high ERB (earned respect bountifulness) than a low ERA, apparently.
Pitchers own the plate. It says so right there on the side. No, on the other side. If you suggest otherwise to a baseball purist, you better get comfortable, because a 47-minute monologue about Bob Gibson’s nasty streak is sure to follow.
5. Advancing the runner: This is the ultimate selfless act, the one that Joan of Arc herself would’ve performed with great and forbidding fervor had she not shredded her left knee after being drafted out of Wichita State by the Blue Jays. To move a runner from second to third at the expense of one’s own batting average? O sweet martyrdom, I await thy savage embrace!