It finally happened: After decades of attending loads of games from Single A to the Major Leagues, I snagged an official, game-used baseball. Or, rather, sort of snagged. I’ll explain later.
First, the background: My friend Ed and I try to alternate spring training visits annually between the Grapefruit League in Florida, which features my team, the New York Yankees, and the Cactus League in Arizona, which has his team, the Cleveland Indi ...er, Guardians.
Florida’s chief advantage is that it’s closer, and thus cheaper to fly to. But four of the teams there play across the state from my Tampa-based Yankees, and we’ve never even been to their ballparks.
In Arizona, all the teams are situated in or around Phoenix, which makes the attendance logistics much simpler. And rainouts, always a threat in Florida, are all but unheard of. Plus – and this is a big plus – there’s a great bar, Pattie’s, in close walking range of our favored hotel in Scottsdale. On balance, Cactus beats Grapefruit.
But this was our first trip back to Arizona since COVID started messing around with sports scheduling and life. So we extended our visit an extra day to give us the chance to see four games instead of our usual three.
It was also our first opportunity to see how newly instituted rules changes would play out at the Major League level, after trial runs in the minors. Those changes include:
• A clock that dictates the time within which a pitcher has to begin his delivery to the plate: 15 seconds with bases empty, 20 seconds with someone on base. Failure results in a called ball. (The hitter also has to be in position and ready to receive a pitch with eight seconds left on the clock, or he’s assessed a strike.)
• Larger bases: 18 inches square instead of the previous 15 inches.
• A ban on the defensive infield shifts that had become so prominent in many situations. Now, two infielders have to be on each side of second base, with their feet on the infield dirt.
• A limit on the number of times a pitcher can throw to a base to hold a runner close. He gets two freebies; after that, unless the runner is tagged out, a balk is called and the runner advances a base.
I suspect that I’ve lost all non-baseball fans by this point of my tale. But the changes are significant for those of us who grew up on baseball. And, to hear some grouchy old-timers complain, you’d think that pitchers were now required to serve up the ball underhanded and that shortstops and right-fielders had to be 12-year-old girls.
I’m a bit of a grouchy old-timer myself and hate the designated hitter. But as regards the new changes, it seemed to Ed and me that the changes had precisely the hoped-for results.
• Balls that would have been outs against a shift instead shot into the outfield as hits.
• Baserunners perhaps emboldened by 3 inches less distance between bags were attempting steals at rates not seen for ages.
• And with pitchers no longer able to meditate between pitches – and hitters no longer able to adjust their batting gloves endlessly – the games moved along at a brisk clip. Three hours for nine innings used to be routine. Two and a half is closer to the mark now. All in all, the changes have my endorsement.
So, about that baseball…
I’d like to say that a towering foul ball came my way, and that as it plummeted from the heavens to the stands I calmly extended my hand and snatched it from the air with a confident smile. But that’s not how it happened.
Instead, after a half-inning ended, a player heading to the dugout tossed a ball over the net in my direction. I extended my hand and missed it. It fell into Ed’s seat behind him, and he secured it.
Unwritten baseball rules call for an adult to surrender such a ball to any youngster in the vicinity. But there being no youngster, Ed gave it to me.
Embarrassing, in a way. But I took it.
Joe Rogers is a former writer for The Tennessean and editor for The New York Times. He is retired and living in Nashville.