On "my" other blog,
FireJayMariotti I posted an underdeveloped, underexplained "takedown" of something Will Leitch wrote on
Deadspin criticizing the development of the knockdown/small of the back pitch as retaliation into the perfunctory and symbolic "punishment" it has evolved to.
Okay. I don't mean to bring that half-assed post and my opinions about Leitch's opinions into this discussion, but I want to jump off from there and talk about the idea behind the idea of HBP punishment, retribution, et cetera in Major League Baseball. That idea, of course, is the idea of the "unwritten rules" of baseball. It's an idea that inspires a lot of divergent opinions--and usually brings that ultimate argument ender "you don't understand because you never played the game" into play, thus killing the possibility of any intelligent.
Well what this blog is about is that
possibility of intelligent discourse, so I want to take the opportunity the soapbox of a free blog presents and talk a little about the value and validity of baseball's "unwritten rules".
Let's start by trying to characterize the unwritten rules of the game. The laws in question generally involve things like:
1.) Don't steal bases if the outcome of the game is not (realistically) in question
2.) Don't show up the pitcher when you hit a home run
3.) Don't bunt to try to break up a no-hitter
4.) Don't yell "I've got it" if you're a base-runner and you're passing a fielder trying to catch a fly ball
Those spring to mind as the most obviously agreed upon unwritten rules of the game. Then there is a certain gray area where the unwritten rules are not so obvious. There are certain rules of comportment that some classify in the "bush league" category the above are subject to, and some categorize as "doing what it takes to win". Examples:
5.) Stealing signs
6.) Dancing around on the basepaths in an attempt to distract the pitcher
7.) Running to first base on a walk
8.) Juking out baserunners by faking a tag or pretending to camp under a flyball on a line drive base hit
What does this variance tell us? Why are "rules" 1-4 almost universally understood to be verboten in baseball and rules 5-8 subjects of controversy? And why are rules 5-8 even considered by some to be off-limits?
Let's back off for a second and talk about professional athletes. Professional athletes (for the most part) are an elite rank. When you consider the number of people who at some point participated in organized baseball (totaling in the millions) and the number of people from their generation who actually make it to the major leagues (totaling in the very very small thousands) we're talking about a fraction of a fraction of a percent. The top, let's say .05% of adult males play professional sports.
There is of course, then, along the way to becoming a pro ball player, a selection process that thins the ranks of all who don't rank among the top fraction of a percent. How does that thinning happen? The obvious answer would be that, chronologically speaking, the first disqualification would be talent (or lack thereof) but that misunderstands exactly how elite professional athletes are. The thing that make professional athletes remarkable is that nearly everyone in America can do what they do, at least to some extent. Professional curlers or ski jumpers or equestrian riders--those ranks are thinned early by aptitude. But one can advance a long way in baseball without having exceptional (that is to say, top .05%) talent. Therefore, the first thinning component in professional baseball is work ethic. It is not particularly hard to hit a high school fastball. It is not particularly hard to stay in the kind of shape required to play high school Left Field. It is not particularly hard to learn how to run the bases adequately when catchers and centerfielders have a difficult time throwing accurately and completely (i.e. w/o one-hopping it) to their bases. If you have a rudimentary desire to teach yourself to play well (and a modicum of talent) you can play high school baseball.
From that point, things get more difficult--the second thinning process is something that might draw some askance eyes from the less hokum-inclined among you, but is something that is relatively real at the lower levels. That quality is "grit". This is what's germane to the discussion of unwritten rules, and where I have been going all along with this.
Look--talent always wins the day. Talking about clutch hitting in my last post, I mentioned (or at least I meant to mention--I don't remember which) that everyone who's played high school ball knows there are people who are "unclutch". Who have the inability to shut out surrounding details and persevere in difficult situations. People who lock up when the big hit (or strikeout) is required. But at the MLB level this is irrelevant, because those people don't pass through. The only people who pass through are those who come through.
Well likewise, talented people pass through. Do you have major league power? Are you built like a brick shithouse with a pretty swing? You'll find a team willing to let you take up some space in low-A ball. Can you throw 95 MPH (even though you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn)? Do you have perfect mechanics? A pitcher's build? Are you left-handed? There's a place for you on a minor league roster.
But there are more college and minor league players than there are players with MLB talent. And while "grit" might not be particularly relevant nor may it be a particularly valuable asset at the MLB level (grit being, I should probably mention, the quality of working incredibly hard and being willing to do "whatever it takes to win"), at lower levels--levels where even the most talented have yet to completely hone their skills--it absolutely is a relevant quality. At least, it is in the eyes of those who make the decisions of who stays and who goes, and in terms of who stays and who goes, that's all that really matters.
Look at it this way: in high school I had a very very intelligent coach. His philosophy of baserunning was to be aggressive at all times, going for the extra base whenever it was at all plausible. His reasoning was simple: In order for you to be thrown out four things had to happen:
1.)the fielder had to field the ball correctly
2.)the fielder had to make a good throw
3.)the baseman had to catch the throw
4.)the baseman had to make a good tag
At the high school level he was absolutely right. As I said before, nearly anyone can play high school baseball if they work hard enough. But that doesn't mean anyone can play well on every single play. A lot of people playing high school ball can't throw the ball perfectly every time (I know I couldn't--that's why I played first base). A lot of people playing high school ball sometimes bobble throws or ground balls. A lot of people have a hard time making a quick and accurate tag. It pays off more often than not at the lower levels to take advantage of these inabilities through hard work, hustle, and fundamentals. Grit.
Obviously, my coach's strategy would have worked very poorly at the Major League level. Yes, you still need to do those four things to throw out a baserunner taking an extra base if you want an out, but the difference is at the Major League level all four things are so close to automatic it's not worth dissecting the components of the out. Anyone who would have a difficult time fielding an OF ground ball and making a decent throw to second base has probably been weeded out by now (or is playing DH). Any SS who can't field a throw and tag a runner out in his sleep is probably not playing SS anymore. Obviously in the ranks between high school and MLB, as you move up in level, the value of hustle and fundamentals becomes less important because everyone hustles (more or less) and everyone knows their fundamentals (more or less). And the ones who don't hustle and don't have good fundamentals have exceptional physical gifts to make up for their lack of "grit".
But why does this help define these unwritten rules? Well, look--I've been talking about grit and talent as if they were mutually exclusive. As if half the people who play college ball are supremely talented athletes who don't need to work at their skills and that the other half are talentless grinders who are only there because of their willingness to get their uniform dirty. As if half of college (and minor league) ballplayers are Nuke LaLoosh and the other half are Rudy Ruttiger. Obviously this isn't the case.
As I said before, nearly every red-blooded American has a certain amount of talent at baseball. And nearly every supremely talented baseball player has a certain amount of grit inherent in his competitive spirit. There are, of course, many people playing college ball who wouldn't be there without their grit or their talent. People whose talent is borderline MLB quality, but who really distinguish themselves by hustling, playing great defense, being in proper position, running the bases smartly, etc. If we think back on all the players known first and foremost for their "grit" we get a list of supremely talented players: Pete Rose, Ty Cobb. . . hell, even Lenny Dykstra was a pretty great hitter. Thinking even of David Eckstein, it's obvious the kid has a pretty awesome stick (compared to mere mortals) if he can hit .280 off Major League pitching.
This is not a shocking point, obviously--that people in MLB are talented. But it does seem to suggest that for a number of players, "grit" is an important screening process. How many players in Major League Baseball feel (probably correctly) that they are there because they work hard and "will do anything to win"? And how many exceptional talents resent these players with grit for being pests who raise the expectations of effort?
I mean, look--think about the media perception of Manny Ramirez compared to David Eckstein. Manny's looked at as lazy (except for the odd story which explores Manny's stoic and studious approach to the art of hitting) and Eckstein is looked at as. . .well, whatever the opposite of lazy is. Industrious? Adequate? Whatever. The implication seems to be that Manny should work harder--as hard as Eckstein.
Well, maybe. Maybe you could argue that if Manny gamed as hard as Eckstein he'd be even better. But at the end of the day Manny works as hard as he needs to work to be a Hall of Famer. Eckstein works as hard as he needs to work to have a major league job. I'm not taking a side on this issue, but look at it from Manny's perspective--he's doing the amount of work he needs to do to put up HOF numbers and people are telling him his work habits should be like this guy who can barely stay in the lineup? Clearly that's going to cause a certain amount of friction in ideals.(Obviously Manny and Eckstein are examples. I don't mean to suggest that in the real world Manny resents Eckstein, or hell--even thinks about him at all)
Now look at those first four unwritten rules
1.) Don't steal bases if the outcome of the game is not (realistically) in question
2.) Don't show up the pitcher when you hit a home run
3.) Don't bunt to try to break up a no-hitter
4.) Don't yell "I've got it" if you're a base-runner and you're passing a fielder trying to catch a fly ball
Can you see the tension between those to whom the game comes naturally and those who need to work every second of every play?
Which teams steal bases? Teams without home run talent. What does celebrating a home run suggest? That you haven't "been there before"--that hitting a home run is something unusual to you. What does bunting to break up a no-hiter mean? It means acknowledging you're not talented enough to get a regular hit off a pitcher. And of course, yelling "I've got it" as you pass a fielder is just a genuinely douchey thing to do.
The main controversy here seems to be the one between exhibiting a willingness to "do anything to win despite a lack of talent" and exhibiting a cool and natural familiarity with greatnes.
Since the majority of MLBers are by definition not great (at least not in the context of MLB) why do these rules seem to be dictated by the "great"? The answer, I think, is that gritty or not, most players want to be great. Let's look at the next four rules, the less agreed upon rules:
5.) Stealing signs
6.) Dancing around on the basepaths in an attempt to distract the pitcher
7.) Running to first base on a walk
8.) Juking out baserunners by faking a tag or pretending to camp under a flyball on a line drive base hit
Even in the context of "grit" vs. "talent" these rules seem arbitrarily distinguished from the first four. But I think there is a logic to them. The first four seem to be the "Gritty" aceding to the "Great". "Yes," they seem to be saying, "We want to be like you, and have the same grace and dignity. We will do anything that generally seems to promote winning, but only when it's necessary."
These, on the other hand, seem to say, "Look--if you fuck up, we'll take the edge." In other words, "If you're too stupid to keep me from stealing signs then I'm going to steal your signs. If you're too mentally weak not to shut out my base path antics, I'm going to take the extra base or the extra ball. If you can't execute a simple throw back to the pitcher after a walk, I'm going to take the extra base. If you can't pick up your first or third base coach, I'm going to trick you into sliding into second."
While the first set of rules seem to be a request that the "gritty" comport themselves like professional athletes, the second seem to be the opposite request--that the "talented" athletes execute the very basic fundamentals of the game.
So, to conclude--the issue of the unwritten rules of baseball seem at once byzantine and foolish. A sort of macho posturing that places dignity over practicality (I remember once telling my dad I thought it was stupid when guys faked a bunt and waved their bat around on a 3-0 count. He responded, "Chris, I thought the point was to win the game. Not to look good doing it." It was a pretty good point, I have to say.) and to some extent it is. But there is a logic behind it. The people to whom the appearance of effort is not essential are asking those to whom it is to not turn the game into a spectacle. The people to whom fundamentals are key are demanding that those to whom they aren't not turn the game into a comedy of errors. In the end these unwritten rules intend to make the game more watchable--more the contest of skill, grace, power, and execution the game was meant to be.
Does it work? Maybe. Maybe not. But is the logic behind it silly or quixotic? I'm having a hard time seeing how it is.
