Living Theatre About a Dead Ball (4)
Current Commissioner Rob Manfred, is relevant to these discussions about the Dead Ball Era because games played 100 years ago took almost exactly half as long as modern games take to play.
That’s right. Baseball used to be non-stop action. Games used to move forward at a breakneck pace, and one of the reasons for delivering beer and food directly to the stands was that people didn’t want to miss anything by leaving their seats.
The game being discussed at length in these posts — September 2, 1915 — went nine full innings, and finished in 1:35. It was the second game of a doubleheader: with both full games being completed in a little more than three hours.
These days, experienced fans expect just one game to take about three hours — plus transit time — plus parking.
This makes Commissioner Manfred unhappy. He’s been quoted as saying he would like games to be played a little more quickly. Then introduces a note of confusion when he says he would like “shorter games” with “more offense”. This is very similar to saying “I would like to eat that piece of cake now” before explaining “and I also want to take that piece home to eat later”.
Why were Dead Ball Era games so short? Well, for one thing, everything had to stop when the sun went down. So that was a big motivator. No lights.
Also: the average player standing at the plate in 1915 simply was not as talented as the average player of today. Which meant that total offense was suppressed. And, when you consider the fact that almost all the advantages of the game rested with the defense, it’s not surprising that offense was greatly suppressed.
That was the startling thing about the Ruth Revolution. When balls started flying out over fences — and the entire momentum of a game could be changed with one pitch — the texture of the sport changed.
And games began to get longer.
Which is what has to happen if you have more offense.
As a simple thought experiment, the shortest possible game would have each pitcher throwing the ball twenty-seven times — each batter swinging at the first pitch and making an out — and no relief pitchers coming in. That game would easily finish in under an hour.
Each deviation from that minimalist pattern requires that the game get longer: since the steady state pattern of pitch-and-catch is disrupted by a hit — or by any kind of scoring.
A dominant pitcher pitches fast, and hitters are often off balance. Outs come quick. 1–2–3. A pitcher who is overmatched tends to slow down. To consider his options. To shake off the catcher. To allow someone else to warm up. Or just to delay the inevitable humiliation of having the ball taken away from him. Time lies heavy between pitches, even when no one is on base.
Another thought experiment allows us to imagine the longest game possible. Which would be infinite — if there were never any outs. Baseball is unusual in this respect: since there is no game clock. Hitters would keep cycling through, and keep coming to the plate until the Big Bang turned into the Big Bust.
Re-examining Commissioner Manfred’s contradictory desire for shorter, but more high scoring, games: I think he wants to increase the PACE of the games, so they are not perceived to be so languid when compared with other sports where it seems like more is happening. But, in trying to increase offense, he’s going to have to find some way to disadvantage the pitcher with rule changes that make it easier to score runs.
