Changes to the game: good, bad and crazy

It’s no longer enough to simply enjoy the game. Baseball is all about change now, with the game’s brain trust immersed in experimentation. Craziness? Hints of logic? Here’s one set of opinions after a month of play:

Shifts: Once a novelty, now a matter of routine, this wellmeaning strategy has become an overbearing mess. It cuts deeply into a fan’s enjoyment of the game, so case closed — stop this nonsense before we’re all bored to tears.

At least two managers, the A’s Bob Melvin and the Royals’ Mike Matheny, have said they’d welcome some sort of crackdown. Deadpull hitters have run out of words to express their frustration, and rightly so: According to Statcast, there were shifts on lefthanded hitters on 50.8% of their plate appearances last year — up from 29.6 just two years prior. And if you’d like a preposterous visual, try Manny Machado, the Padres’ third baseman, stationed way out in right field for a Max Muncy atbat during the recent series against the Dodgers.

Common sense is about to prevail in the minor leagues. In the second half of the DoubleA season, two infielders must be positioned on each side of second base, as well as have their cleats on the dirt as the pitch is thrown. That’s an excellent

first step, probably all that would be necessary to restore some order, although it’s worth considering a comment recently passed along by Giants broadcaster Mike Krukow.

“Tell you a story about Pete Rose, when I was playing,” he said. “There was a game in Cincinnati where I hit the ball on the nose four times. I mean, right on the screws. Each one goes right to the shortstop. I’m complaining about it the next day in batting practice and Rose goes, ‘Well, don’t hit it to the shortstop.’

“It’s contact hitting — learn to hit the ball away from the defense. If somebody’s right up the middle, there’s a hole in the infield someplace. Change your style.”

Therein lies the heart of the argument. Not everyone can guide the ball like a Rose, Rod Carew or Tony Gwynn. Would you have wanted to see Babe Ruth try to punch singles to left? Willie McCovey once dropped a bunt into the vast empty spaces to score Willie Mays, and it turned into a double, but it just wasn’t his style. When Ted Williams first saw a radical shift, in 1946, he made zero adjustments and finished with a slash line of .342/.497/ .667. Just overpowered the damned thing on the strength of his conviction.

There’s nobody like Teddy Ballgame today, but we see the likes of lefty hitters Joey Gallo, Brandon Belt, Joey Votto and Jay Bruce (who retired last month, partly out of shiftrelated frustration) reaching the big leagues on the powers of a deadpull stroke and taking pride in that. Go to your strength; it’s what fans expect to see from any athlete performing at the height of capacity.

Votto recently told MLB Network that he “fell victim” to a beattheshift mentality a couple of years ago and lost a bit of confidence. “Even when I would pop a ball hard to the rightfield grass, it was like onehop to the second baseman or a line drive to the shortstop. I felt like no matter what I was doing, it was an out . ... If they change the rules, fine. That means the lefthanded hitters will be better equipped for the next era.”

Let’s get to that era in a hurry. Radical shifts are unsightly, tamper with the game’s sublime balance and turn off the fans. For a sport so attentive to entertainment value, a ban would be a sensible call.

Mystery man on second:

Because it’s so confounding to watch a runner placed on second base to start extra innings, a lot of people have found themselves pleasantly immersed in the strategical conversations that ensue. If this is to become permanent (it won’t be in play this postseason), start it in the 12th inning, not the 10th. If you watched either of the extrainning games involving the Dodgers and Padres this season — baseball at its absolute finest, just a nonstop riveting spectacle — you weren’t ready for some gimmick to crash the party so soon.

Seveninning doubleheader games:

We’re no longer in Mays’ time, when doubleheaders were cool and a wonderful way to spend about five hours on a Sunday afternoon. Until the pandemic, they were derided by the players’ union, MLB executives, the media and even the fans. Now it’s a pretty good way to sustain a schedule so susceptible to turmoil — and please, don’t believe the pandemic is anywhere near over, no matter what allowances are made for fans. Remember, too, that whenever absolute normalcy is restored, only seveninning games for doubleheaders will be deemed acceptable. There was just too much resistance to the old way.

The threebatter minimum:

This is working, in essence. We all got tired of relievers — one after another — departing after five or six pitches, or perhaps just one. But there must be an allowance for chaos. Last Wednesday night in St. Louis, Cardinals reliever Génesis Cabrera threw a fastball that hit the Phillies’ Bryce Harper in the face (miraculously, he wasn’t seriously injured). Then Cabrera immediately hit the next batter, Didi Gregorius, with another fastball. So that’s it. As Philadelphia manager Joe Girardi shouted in all directions, “He’s got to go!” But the rule demanded he stay in the game.

Let’s see a provision that allows for common sense: Per agreement by the umpires and both managers, get that reliever out of the game before he kills somebody. Maybe even extend it to a truly ghastly development: Say, someone enters the game with the bases loaded and uncorks a wild pitch halfway up the screen, tying the score, then gives up a titanic home that sails into the parking lot. Seen enough of him.

The expanded postseason:

MLB managed to negotiate itself right out of this attractive, moneymaking arrangement that worked so well last season. In the National League alone, I can think of at least 11 teams I’d love to see in this postseason (only five get in). That list definitely includes the Giants, so capably stating their case.