Rob Barber

OCTOBER 4, 2011 BY PATRICK SMITH

Baseball isn’t broke, Patrick Smith writes, but there is one thing it could do without.

Tom Matlack has some ideas about how to fix baseball.

Do something about those wacky salaries, he says. Then baseball will be interesting again. Tie a player’s paycheck to his performance. And give the World Series champs $1 billion.

Well, OK. But while we’re at it, let’s put a team on the moon. Because that would be A) awesome and B) just about as likely as incentive-based salaries and a ten-figure World Series prize. These fix ideas simply aren’t realistic. How come? Because nobody in baseball wants them.

The players don’t. Their association, which is very much not a union, has leverage like no other players group in sports. Last week, in the going-nowhere NBA labor talks, the commissioner pointed his finger at one of the league’s marquee players, who promptly yelled at him and walked out. Nobody in baseball sneezes without asking the players association.

And the owners don’t want those fixes either. Because baseball ain’t broke. Sure, some of the owners would like to see a salary cap, to save them from themselves. But they keep signing left-handed set-up men to bazillion-dollar deals. If baseball wanted to surpass the NFL in the hearts and wallets of America, it would figure out how to install a salary cap. But it won’t, so let’s not discuss it further.

And anyway, who cares what the players make? You’re not paying them. I mean, sure, a piece of your ticket money and your hat money and your cable TV money winds up with Albert Pujols. But so what? You think your cable bill would be lower if Alex Rodriguez didn’t make $32 million this year?

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The game doesn’t need to be saved. It needs an adjustment.

If there’s anything wrong with baseball, it’s the relentless sameness of the games, night after night. When baseball discovered that television needed more than just sporting events to offer viewers, it jerry-rigged the schedule so that the Yankees would play the Red Sox 19 times a year.

Yep. Nineteen times. Awesome, right? The “unbalanced schedule” meant that each team would play the teams within its own division 19 times per season, cutting down on travel expenses and fostering inter-city rivalries.

Well, for every BOS@NYY on the schedule, there’s a KCR@CLE and a PIT@HOU. And nobody wants to watch the Royals play the Indians or the Pirates play the Astros 19 times in one season.

For that matter, not many people really want to watch Boston and the Yanks that many times. In 2001, Major League Baseball, still high off the fumes of interleague play, instituted the current schedule. And 10 years later, the jury has returned a verdict: it’s boring.

If I wanted to watch the Blue Jays 19 times a year, I’d move to Toronto.

So, even if it comes at the expense of the most holy interleague play, let’s rejigger the schedule and spread things around a little. Broaden those horizons, people!

♦◊♦

Here’s another fix. But if I’m honest with myself, it’s about as likely to happen as Tom Matlack’s ideas. Still, here goes.

No more designated hitter.

Let’s just admit it—the DH is over. Sure, we had some laughs. And we’re grateful for Edgar Martinez and Harold Baines and Vladimir Guererro and Jim Thome. But the DH feels like polyester pants and orange shag carpet: way out of date.

Did you watch game 2 of the Diamondbacks-Brewers American League Division Series on Sunday? I hope you did. With the score tied at 4 in the sixth inning, Brewers catcher Jonathan Lucroy came to the plate with one out and teammates at first and third.

In the American League, the batter would’ve tried to hit one into the parking lot. Or at least a fly ball long enough to score the runner. What wouldn’t happen in the AL is a squeeze bunt. Bunts are rare in the American League, since each lineup contains an extra slugger.

But Sunday in Milwaukee, Lucroy put down a perfect squeeze bunt to the right side. It was a work of art. Jerry Hairston bolted home from third with the eventual winning run. If you didn’t see it, you really missed something.

More of that, please. As a fan of American League team, it’s a treat to get to watch the management machinations that happen in the late innings of an NL game. Making your pitcher bat affects everything—how long your starting pitcher stays in, where the power hits in the order, who comes up next inning, all of it. It’s why National League managers have to think a couple innings ahead all the time.

Baseball needs to give its fans more credit. Fans don’t need “story lines” and gimmicks. Just give us the game.

Maybe there was a time in life when we only wanted ice cream and candy. But our palates are more refined now. We understand subltelty, beauty. and nuance. Give us organic baseball.

—Photo Flickr/Homini

A year ago tonight I helped my dad lay down on the couch at my house. He had just been released from the hospital the day before after being diagnosed and treated for disease that was supposed to be very manageable. Less than thirty minutes after helping him down to sleep, I went back across the room to find that he wasn’t breathing.

After panic, CPR and calling 911, dad was rushed back to the hospital. Unfortunately, it was only to discover that he had gone without oxygen for too long suffering irreparable brain damage. There was no coming back. Twelve days later we took dad to his home where his life support was removed. He passed away a little over an hour later with my mom, sister and I by his side.

It’s times like these where you have to reset your compass and make sure you’re contributing your life to things that matter. Things that add value to the people you love the most.

My family stood for twelve hours greeting friends at dad’s casket. The devotion to his faith, church, friends and family were obvious. The stories of his generosity, sacrifice and integrity made it clear he passionately devoted his life to helping other people; often in quiet; always personal.  His funeral was simulcast from the church to another building, so to accommodate the overflow of friends who came to say goodbye.

In the context of life and death, it may seem that baseball is just a game. It’s not.

Baseball is a game of both the old AND young. Baseball is one of the common languages that allow fathers to connect with sons, and sons to connect with fathers. As for me; baseball motivated me to study and stay out of trouble. Baseball was the way I paid for college. Baseball allowed me to play and see Alaska and Europe. Baseball allowed my dad and I to spend time together, often going to get something to drink and talking about whatever after. Baseball defined where I went to college and perhaps who I married. Baseball is my passion and vocation. It helped build the relationship with my dad so much so that when I got married, I asked him to be my best man. He was my best friend.  Baseball created events that gave us some tears but lots and lots of laughs. Through baseball, I learned to what extent a parent will go to help their child. In later years, for my dad, it opened the relationship with his grandson. He could give good advice. The insights were timeless and stretched across generations. I don’t, however, want to give the impression that baseball WAS LIFE. It was not. I was in band, choir, a class officer, student council, a football player, President of FCA and active in my church. Baseball wasn’t my life; but it was more than a game. It is for you too.

It’s our choices that define us. The activities we choose, whether it is baseball or choir, will impact our lives in different way. It is our hope as parents, that we select sports, organizations and people that will shape them in a positive way. That even through struggles and difficult moments, we hope that the opportunities to develop life skills won’t be lost. While baseball offers a tremendous platform to grow, develop and succeed as a player, the greater hope is that the experience makes our son stronger and better prepared for the next challenge life will bring.

We all want our boys to be able to play baseball around people who care about them. Since success is at least partially about getting better on the field, we want a coach, team and organization that gives his skills a chance to improve to their highest potential. I have not met a parent who’s goal was to make their kid professional baseball player. Although we all approach the game with different personalities and passions, I truly believe we just want them to have the chance to be as good as they can and continue to play for as long as they can. Then …. at the end of the day, where ever things fall is ok. Even the greatest of athletes will one day lay down their bat. But when that time has come, what will you have wanted your son to take away from his experience in the game? Hopefully it’s a life long father/son love and appreciation of the game. It’s memories of time together in the cage and one the field. It’s the family memories of the travel and friendships. It’s the life skill of learning to work hard and sacrifice for things you want and believe in. The discipline of showing up and following the rules as well as the unfortunate, although invaluable, skill of learning to handle failure and disappointment.

USAthletic is just one relationship of many you will have in your baseball career. Schools, private coaches, and different teams will help you down this important journey in your son’s life. There are lots of options and different types of approaches you will encounter. Our purpose is intentional and different. Our mission has two parts: First is to give your son and family the very best information, coaching and resources so that he can develop to his full potential as a baseball player. The second, and more important, is to provide that information, coaching and resources in a context mindful of the larger responsibility of developing the essential life skills that will help him succeed in whatever direction he chooses in life. Although it begins with learning to say please and thank you, we hope to become more and more intentional and systematic. The bit of irony is that we’ve had great baseball success over the years without making winning at all cost. Our success will come through the collective development of our players. We succeed when former players like Matt Kline graduate from law school this week. When Chris Sweeney graduates from Yale. When TC Knipp finishes his career with the IU baseball team and graduates. We succeed when our players, your son, makes good choices about who he is and what he wants to become in light of your values and mindful of the opportunities ahead.

In the next email you will find information about our 2011 fund raising initiative. As the leader of USAthletic, I also expect us, the program, to be the best we can be. I also understand that our collective choices will define the opportunities we are able to provide your son. While fund raising is often one of the greatest challenges an organization faces, it is an essential component. That’s one of the reasons we put it in the player agreement we have everyone sign prior to committing to the program. That agreement says who we are and what we need and can expect from each other. I certainly appreciate your full support including helping us meet our fund raising goals in a way that is simple, yet consistent with our values. The program will consist of five tools which give you different options to raise money for the program. In addition, we will offer incentives to individuals and teams that exceed their goals. It is important to me that in a tough economy we offer you personally, a tool to raise money for whatever you need to operate this summer: money to pay for gas, a hotel room, food, shoes, or equipment.

In closing, the disease that contributed to taking my father’s life is called Myasthenia Gravis. It is in the same family of neuromuscular diseases and ALS, that took the life of Lou Gehrig.

Lou Gehrig was the player my dad held in the highest esteem. He felt that Gehrig embodied the work-ethic, persevering spirit and integrity that is the game of baseball. So in October 2009, my sister and I took my mom, nephew, son and dad to next to last game at Yankee Stadium. Although dad grew up a Brooklyn Dodger fan, he was a lover of baseball history. That night we sat in the epicenter. About half way through the game, I gave dad an ear bud from my iPod and asked him to close his eyes. I played Gehrig’s short farewell speech from seventy years earlier.

It was only one great moment in a great night. It was only one great night in a great trip.

One only one great trip in a great life.

Enjoy the journey.

Rob

Everybody has something to prove each year. Everybody has a responsibility in this game. Even the batboy.

The audio starts at :30 and the video at 1:15