I was watching a game the other night, and Jays' reliever Brandon League whipped a ball at a batter. The pitch struck him in the leg, the batter took his base, and the ump tossed League from the game.
Usually an ump gives a pitcher a warning before tossing him, but these days the umps are quick on the trigger to toss someone if they think the pitcher intentionally drilled the guy.
Personally, I think throwing at a batter is part of the game, as long as the pitch comes in below the shoulders. The "inside pitch" has got to remain a part of baseball, and pitchers have to be given the right to throw it. Batters already have a massive advantage through a small stirke zone, a short pitcher's mound, and a meaningless batter's box. These days they can even elect to wear padding on their elbow, which should be banned outright: this is not cricket, and elbow padding only begs a hitter to lean over the plate.
If umpires begin tossing pitchers at the first sign of trouble, then you can kiss pitching strategy good-bye. A pitcher won't want to throw inside to brush a batter back, because if he misses by only two or three inches, he might plunk the batter and end up with a trip to the showers. This threat forces the pitcher to pitch carefully over the plate, and when you pitch carefully over the plate, you're throwing grapefruits ripe for homeruns.
The history of hitting someone with a baseball is as old as baseball itself, but the rules have gone through unbelievable changes. In fact, batters used to receive the short end of the stick when it came to inside pitching.
Picture this. The year is 1876. You're playing "base-ball." You're up to bat, as the "striker," wearing your little cloth cap and baggy pants. The pitcher winds up from 45 feet away. He's not allowed to pitch "over his shoulder," but he can still whistle the thing in there pretty good using an underhand or sidearm.
So you get ready. The pitch comes in. Ker-plunk. It hits you in the ribs. The ump says nothing, and the pitcher gets ready to throw another. In the rules of the day, the first ball, whether "unfair" (today's "ball") or "fair" (today's "strike"), is not called regardless of where it ends up. It's a freebie.
Pitch 2: the pitcher winds up. Ker-Plunk, he nails you in the shin. The ump calls the pitch "unfair," but he doesn't tell you to take your base. You see, three "unfair" pitches make up one "ball." But a pitch that hits the batter is also a ball. So there's a chance you'll face 8 more unfair pitches before you can walk, or two more, if both of them nail you. Of course, there's always a chance you'll hit the ball, in which case you hope the ump sees it clearly, because if the ump needs help with the call, he's allowed to ask for help from a spectator.
Image that today, say in Yankee Stadium. A Red Sox player hits the ball and it looks foul, but the ump isn't sure, so he turns to the crowd and asks for their opinion.
In the old days, being hit by a pitch was almost guaranteed. Pitchers used it to great advantage, intimidating players and moving them around the 6 x 6 foot batter's box. But then, batters used it too, leaning into pitches in order to get on base. Getting hit by numerous pitches sounds like a lot of pain to take for one lousy base, but it makes more sense when you consider the baserunning rules of the day: men on base, regardless if forced or not, all advanced one base if the batter walked. In other words, a man on third would come home even if the bases weren't loaded. Walks were winners.
Hitting a batter became a little more costly in 1878, when the rules declared that an umpire could fine a pitcher on the spot for beaning a man. The hitter couldn't take his base after being hit, but he could be satisfied to hear the ump tell the pitcher that he was fined anywhere between $10 and $25. A year later, the fine increased to a maximum of $50, showing that ball clubs thought beaning a hitter was cheap at half the price. The imposed fines had to be paid at the end of the day, or the offending team forfeited the game.
Baseball's history is a confusion of rule changes, a lot of them centering around the hit batsman. There were a number of leagues in the country, professional and amateur, and none of them agreed on anything at the same time. In less than a decade, the National League changed the number of balls needed for a walk from 9, to six, to seven.
Over in the American Association, they decided to simplify the whole thing. In 1884 they became the first league to immediately give a batter first base if he was hit by a pitch, as long as the ump thought the beanball was
intentional. They declared that an intentionally beaned man could not be put out on his way to first, as long as he took first base "on the run." So after being drilled by a pitch, a man had to hustle to first. If he took his time, the big baby could be thrown out.
Ventura Takes Exception
Everything was fine for five minutes, but those damned hitters screwed everything up again by trying to get hit by pitches, forcing baseball to remove the hit-by-pitch rule if the ball struck you on the forearm or hand. It was called the Welch amendment, named after one particular hitter that had a knack for leaning into pitches, then putting up his hands to "defend himself." (Hughie Jennings may have been another good actor, being hit by 287 pitches between 1891 and 1903).
Baseball began to wimp out in the 20th Century, and now a hit-by-pitch is a big deal. Benches clear, managers get ejected, pitchers get fined thousands of dollars, soccer moms cry. Today's beanball, however, is nothing compared to the old days, where you literally expected to get drilled at least once per at-bat, and maybe three times for good measure.
Ah, the good old days.
Photos: Nationals Review & Google Images
I was listening to JP Ricciardi, general manager of the Blue Jays, a few days ago. He had just put Alex Rios on waivers and was telling a reporter, "It happens all the time. We're just testing the waters."
