Case for no change to walk
rule proposed by Commissioner Rob Manfred, OK’d by union chief Tony Clark and awaiting final approval, the intentional walk as we’ve known it is history.
Managers will simply signal from the dugout for the batter to take first base, eliminating the four-pitch process for the purpose of quickening the pace of games, a multitiered mission Manfred is determined to accomplish.
“I don’t see how that’s going to help, I really don’t,” said McCovey, an intentional-walk king who’s open to other rule changes that would move the game along.
Intentional walks are rare, coming once in three games on average, and take about a minute and a half. Perfect amount of time to boo the opposing team — or queue the chicken dance song — for denying a rival slugger a chance to swing.
There are more obvious rules to tweak the pace of games in McCovey’s mind, including reining in the laborious replay system. But intentional walks?
“Sometimes pitchers have trouble throwing those wide ones,” McCovey said. “I don’t think it makes a difference if there’s nobody on, and I’ve been walked with nobody on. But with someone on, there’s a chance to throw wild and have a guy score.”
Or get thrown out. In the 2014 Division Series, Buster Posey was nailed when trying to score after Nationals reliever Aaron Barrett airmailed ball four on an intentional walk to Pablo Sandoval.
In July, Angel Pagan should have scored when Yankees reliever Dellin Betances threw a pitch to the backstop while trying to intentionally walk Brandon Crawford. Pagan was dozing and stayed put, infuriating manager Bruce Bochy.
In September, the Yankees’ slugging rookie catcher Gary Sanchez was getting intentionally walked but reached for an outside pitch and hit a deep sacrifice fly to center.
One of the great moments in A’s history was Rollie Fingers’ fake intentional walk to Johnny Bench in the 1972 World Series, Fingers stunning Bench on a strike-three slider.
McCovey remembered a time early in his career when a pitcher sneaked strike three by him during a supposed intentional walk. From that point on, he made sure to be prepared just in case a pitch came in his wheelhouse.
“I wasn’t going to let that happen again,” McCovey said. “When (Willie) Mays got walked intentionally, he’d put the bat down or leaned on the bat. You could’ve snuck one by him. I always wanted to be ready.”
Barry Bonds is the career leader with 688 intentional walks, followed by Albert Pujols (302), Hank Aaron (293) and McCovey (260).
That doesn’t include all the unintentional intentional walks McCovey drew. Not surprisingly, the Reds, managed by Anderson throughout the ’70s, intentionally walked him the most, 37 times.
At 6-foot-4 and with a long, forceful swing, McCovey hit the ball so hard and so far that opposing managers became afraid to face him. In his MVP season, 1969, he was intentionally walked 45 times, the single-season record before Bonds broke it.
Bonds drew 68 intentional walks in 2002, 61 in 2003 and a whopping 120 in 2004. Perhaps his most celebrated came in 1998 when Diamondbacks manager Buck Showalter had him walked with the bases loaded, forcing in a run. Brent Mayne lined out to end the game.
“They say (intentional walks) don’t happen often. When I was playing, and Barry was playing, it happened every day,” quipped McCovey.
Intentional walks were one of the countless subtleties that set the game apart, a chance for a feared batter to stand in the box and revel in the fact he’s the most dangerous man on the premises, a show of respect for a hitter’s capability to alter a game.
(Unless it’s a hitter with the pitcher on deck. Then, yeah, it’s no big deal.)
In the twilight of McCovey’s career, he was summoned to pinch hit at Candlestick and walked slowly from the dugout. He drew an intentional walk, walked slowly to first and, replaced by a pinch-runner, walked slowly back to the dugout.
No swinging. No running. No sweating. A cool and powerful moment. He showed how intimidating he was without doing a darned thing. Now that’s respect.
In Manfred’s pursuit to hurry the pace, he wants a pitch clock, a limit on mound visits and a raised strike zone. Clark balked at those three, and Manfred has the authority to unilaterally implement the rules next season but would prefer to continue negotiating. A pitch clock? “You shouldn’t even need one, but if that’s what it takes,” McCovey said. “When I played, I don’t remember (pitchers) being this slow. Bob Gibson, when he got the ball from the catcher, he was ready to throw again. He would almost quick-pitch you if you weren’t ready.”
In the grand ol’ days of Candlestick Park, when visiting teams took the field for batting practice, they walked from their clubhouse way up the right-field line to the dugout along the third-base line.
Reds manager Sparky Anderson often glared into the Giants’ dugout looking for the great Willie McCovey.
“I’d be sitting in our dugout, and he’d walk by putting four fingers up, telling me he was going to walk me,” McCovey said. “Sparky, he didn’t want to pitch to me.”
What would Anderson have done today? Simply point to first base?
Now, that’s all that’s necessary. Under a new