War on Baseball Tradition May Backfire

Baseball Digest, July, 2000 by George Vass

Short-term benefits, such as blurring distinction between two leagues, might hurt game in long run

ONLY A FANATICAL PURIST COULD be so blind to reality as to insist that baseball must cling to its past, adamantly shunning all change while remaining content to feed on its rich and unrivaled treasury of tradition like a camel on its hump.

It's all very well to wax nostalgic about the glories of such bygone venues as Ebbets Field, Sportsman's Park, Baker Bowl, Crosley Field, and the like, but fidelity, to truth demands admission they were rundown, beer-stanched dumps in their waning years. Modem palaces of baseball such as Cleveland's Jacobs Field, Baltimore's Camden Yards, Atlanta's Turner Field and their peers offer far superior ambiance in most every way.

Not only is change inevitable, it's occasionally even for the better. Never totally, though, and the new ballparks aren't perfect, though they are definitely indispensable. Most, however, share a major flaw--they're extremely cozy, too home run friendly.

Coincidence or not, it's suggestive that the already feverish home run pace of recent years fired up even more early this season with the debut of three new venues, Detroit's Comerica Park, Houston's Enron Field and San Francisco's Pacific Bell Park.

This is not to contend that these new playgrounds weren't sorely needed. Unwillingness or inability to adapt to the demands of the present undoubtedly would provide a blueprint for disaster rather than an outline for assuring the game's popularity and prosperity far into the future.

Nevertheless, while the "national pastime" must move with the times if it is to fasten, maintain and reinforce its hold on new generations of fans, it is equally vital that it does so without severing too many links with its storied history, hallowed traditions and deeply-embedded customs. Remembrance of the past is baseball's lifeline, and to scorn its annals is to invite inevitable decay in fan dedication and support.

Dumping baseball's past--or dumping on it, as so many history-disadvantaged media types, as well as untutored owners and players, are prone to do these days--could lead to the game's eventual relegation to the status of a nostalgic curiosity along the lines of manual typewriters or vinyl phonograph records.

It may not be overstating the case to suggest that official baseball, spurred on by television's demands for frenetic "action" and an insatiable hunger by both players and teams for ever more cash from that electronic pot of gold, has been mounting a violent and irreverent assault on the game's traditions and history.

It could be called "The Thirty Years War" since the first significant departure from the past came three decades ago, in 1969, with the split of the American and National Leagues into two divisions of six teams each, and the resultant necessity of introducing a round of playoffs to precede the World Series.

Just three years later came an even more radical rejection of former practice when the American League adopted the designated hitter rule. For the first time, half of baseball in effect watered down the quality of talent required of a major league player since he no longer had to be able to field as well as to hit. Additionally, pitchers with batting skill became an anachronism, forever safeguarding standards set by such exceptional A.L. hitting hurlers as Wes Ferrell, Red Ruffing and Catfish Hunter.

The innovations of divisional play and the designated hitter triggered a relentless revolution that has reshaped the game during the last three decades. It has now reached a point at which the continued survival of the American and National leagues as genuinely separate and rival entities is almost surely at an end.

There's great danger, however, that the war on baseball tradition may backfire, though the risk isn't about to deter those pressing on with campaigns to reshape the game.

First and foremost, of course, among the "improvers" is commissioner Bud Selig, who was recently granted new and vast powers to rearrange and fine-tune his empire.

Among other advocates of reform is respected sportscaster Bob Costas, who, while urging further changes, acknowledges that baseball already has been deeply scarred by unwise developments of the last three decades.

In his new book, Fair Ball, Costas argues that baseball has been in great trouble for several years, and that many recent changes have aggravated rather than ameliorated its problems.

Among Costas' peeves are lack of financial discipline and meaningful revenue sharing, the introduction of "wild card" playoff teams, too many and too small divisions in each league necessitating excessive playoffs, the designated hitter rule, umpiring inconsistencies, and "revolving door" ownership.

Costas' stated motive for writing his thoughtful book is to "see baseball become fun again." He urges its ruling class to draw distinctions "between real progress and mere change" and to reach "sensible conclusions about which aspects of the game should be preserved, which should be modified, and which should be overhauled."