Baseball in the 21st century

Does baseball have a future in America, the land of its birth?

Our nation's culture seems to be working against it. Baseball has to compete with an overwhelming array of other sports, as well as distractions and entertainments of all sorts, at a time when fans are busier and the younger generation's attention span has putatively diminished.

But as potential fans have less time and, perhaps, less patience for the stately pace of play, baseball games themselves have gotten longer.

In 1950, the average game was played in 2 hours and 23 minutes; in 2016, a game required over 3 hours.

Games these days are longer for various reasons. Some of them involve strategy. More specialized relief pitchers entail more pitching changes.

Strikeouts are up, which means more batters going deeper into the count. This takes time.

So do commercial breaks and inter-inning entertainments.

Some commentators even blame the invention of Velcro, which tempts batters to constantly step out of the box to readjust their batting gloves.

Recently the New York Times asked its readers how to make baseball games shorter and livelier. The suggestions ranged from the immediately practical — make all games seven innings, instead of nine — to the fanciful — give umpires bonuses for shorter games.

In the meantime, Major League Baseball and the players' union have agreed to speed up play by eliminating the requirement that a pitcher throw four balls to issue an intentional walk. Thus a manager can bypass a powerful hitter or set up a double play with a signal to the umpire that moves the batter directly to first base.

This will save time, of course. Last year in the major leagues 932 intentional walks were issued.

Four lobs per walk equals 3,728, which at, say, 18 seconds per pitch amounts to 18 hours and 38 minutes of watching two grown men play catch.

But the actual pitch total was a little short of 3,728. On a few occasions, pitchers overthrew the catcher, allowing baserunners to advance. Even more rarely, a careless pitcher makes a throw too close to the strike zone and an alert batter punches out a hit.

Baseball is about speed, power and strategy, of course, but above all, it's about control, keeping the leather-covered sphere out of the mitts of your opponents and in the mitts of your teammates. A moment's inattention and the ball is loose.

It could cost a run or a game.

That's why I'm reluctant to see baseball modify the intentional walk rule, just as I would hate to see the batter retire directly to the dugout after hitting a home run.

It would save time, but it's not a run until the slugger carefully touches every base.

So how does baseball accommodate fans with less time and younger potential fans to whom baseball might seem tedious? Here's a suggestion:

Twice a month during the regular season, Major League Baseball should televise a game of spare, oldstyle baseball, without commercial breaks. Make these day games, on weekends, when kids can watch.

Encourage the players not to dawdle, but let the game develop its own pace. Provide no inter-inning entertainment, no kiss cams, no T-shirt cannons. No attempts to rouse the crowds to cheer. No designated hitter.

Provide thoughtful playby-play and color commentary; the viewer can always turn down the sound. Instant replay is great, but don't permit challenges to calls on the field. Let the ump make an occasional mistake, just like the rest of us.

Of course, this isn't a sustainable model for baseball; night games are inevitable and so are commercial breaks.

But out of 2,430 regular season games, the league can afford to subsidize, say, 10 games in the effort to connect or reconnect fans to a quieter version of the game that provides the peace to chat between innings or to ponder the progress of the game. Consider it a public service that might eventually pay off for baseball.

It's a step back from the noisy, lengthy spectacle that baseball has become. But it's also a way of finding out if pure baseball still works in America.