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YOU WANNA SPEED UP THE GAME, MANFRED? TRY ENFORCING THE RULES YOU ALREADY GOT.

· Baseball Rules, Joe Sez · , , , , , , ,

Hey there, speed bags. Yesterday, this season’s eventual World Series champion Chicago Cubs went down to the Marlins, 2-1, in a 17 inning marathon. Seein’ as how that mattress stain, Rob Manfred, has a major chubby over folding up a baseball game nice and neat-like so it fits into his pocket watch, I thought this an opportune time to throw out my own ideas for speedin’ up the game. I figure it’s gonna happen anyway, right? Fighting off Manfred-types is a full time job, and usually a losing battle. They’re everywhere, like [NAME OF LYING POLITICIAN, HERE] or [NAME OF ARROGANT HOLLYWOOD TYPE, HERE] who think they know what’s best for you, me and the rest of humanity, no matter what the subject. And they’re not the least bit shy about tryin’ to force their opinions — or if it’s Harvey Weinstein, his hairy, sweaty, lard-jiggling body — on anyone with a pulse.

In Manfred’s case — in spite of the internet rumors floatin’ around about him and the San Diego Chicken — I’m pretty sure it’s just baseball he’s systematically tryin’ to ruin. And by “just baseball”, I don’t mean to make it sound unimportant, cuz it is, my friend. How important? Well … if there was a moon-size asteroid headin’ towards Earth at a bazillion miles an hour, and we had a choice between figuring out how to avoid the destruction of all life on Earth, or savin’ baseball from the menstruation-like mood swings of Rob Manfred — I’d save baseball. No question. I mean, without baseball (which includes encased meat products, Old Style and curly fries) life’s not worth livin’ anyway. Simple choice.

So, without further adieu (or any adieu at all, for that matter) here are my speed up the game rule suggestions for Mr Womanfred:

Chuck instant replay for a coin flip. (Savings: Between 2 and 5 minutes per review.)

If there’s one thing baseball has done to slow down ball games more than anything (besides giving David Price and Daisuke Matsuzaka major league contracts) it’s allowin’ umpires to review certain plays using instant replay. Lemme tell ya, there’s nothin’ instant about it, pal. As soon as a manager points to the headset technician, you might as well grab your favorite reading material and go drop the kids off at the pool, cuz absolutely nothin’ is happening in the ballgame for at least 5 minutes. Seems like there are a handful of these in every game, too. Problem is, I only got so many kids that need swimmin’ lessons in any given 3 hour period, which makes for a lot of watchin’ umpires standing around.

You gotta ask yourself one question, though: Is the added review time worth gettin’ the calls right? Yes, is the answer. It’s worth it. As someone who’d rather have his left nut removed with a rusty hacksaw than have an umpire screw up a call, I’m willin’ to wait it out. (Boy, am I ever willin’ to wait that out.) But unlike the Commish, I don’t think there’s something wrong with the length of a ballgame.

Consider this: From 2014 thru 2017, there were 5,359 challenges issued in major league games, with the original call being upheld 50.96% of the time. Thursday — opening day 2018 — was right on track with that, too. Six challenges were issued — three upheld and three overturned. Basically blue is right only half of the time on close calls. Not good enough for me.

Now you could just do away with instant replay, which I don’t wanna, but you’d definitely save time. Or … you could replace instant replay with a coin flip. The home plate umpire flips a coin and the call is made by the manager issuing the challenge. The law of averages says it’ll work out about the same as having no replay at all — 50/50. But the arbitrary nature of it, which makes no sense at all, means its exactly like all the other changes Manfred has force-fed Major League Baseball, that also make no sense.

The Major League mercy rule. (Savings: Between 42 and 53 minutes.)

I’m sure half of Manfred’s itch to speed up the game has to do with him wantin’ to get home before his favorite nail salon closes. Here’s an idea … At the conclusion of the 7th inning, a team shall be declared the winner of the game if it has already accumulated a lead of three runs or more. If the differential favors the home team, this determination will be made after the conclusion of the visiting team’s turn at bat.

There you go, Lord Manfred. The first step toward seven inning games, which I know is what you really want.

The three foul ball rule. (Savings: About 1 minute per foul ball saved.)

This would be an addendum to Rule 5.09, “Making an Out.” To the long list (15 in all) of stipulations defining when a batter is out, Manfred could add the following:

A batter is out when, with two strikes, he accumulates three foul balls:
(a) In addition to any that resulted in either or both of the first two strikes;
(b) None of which is legally caught by a fielder;
(c) None of which are foul tips caught by the catcher.

I’ve been to games — tons of ’em — where guys foul off 8 or 10 pitches in an at bat. It’s like Bobby Fisher and Boris Spassky on a diamond. (No, White Sox fans, they are not in the Hall of Fame.) It’s friggin’ awesome! Especially when it’s a Cubs player doing the fouling off and a guy like Kershaw getting meat-grinder arm. But Manfred’s bird brain doesn’t understand how great that is; it doesn’t see a duel of wills between pitcher and batter; it doesn’t feel any edge-of-the-seat tension. The Manfred brain just counts the extra minutes that are being added to the elapsed time of the game, which in turn sends signals to the glass-shard, acid-coated, beachball-sized burr he’s got lodged in his backside that make it rotate a time or two.

Note: Based on last years numbers, the rules committee is considering adding a 16th sub-item to “Making an Out” in the official MLB rule book, which would read as follows: “If the player’s name is Jose Bautista.”

Pitching change, smitching change. (Savings: About 12 minutes.)

A helluva lot of extra time is introduced into ballgames due to pitching changes. Limiting them would speed the game up a ton. It sounds like a crazy idea — and it is, my friend — cuz it removes a good portion of the strategy available to managers. Of course, that’s what the Designated Hitter rule did, too, and that sissy thing has been around the junior circuit for decades.

But let’s take a look at the numbers. In 2016, for instance, each team used 4.15 pitchers per game. That means, on average, you’re stoppin’ each game 6.3 times to bring in a new arm and give him his eight warm-up tosses. I figure that’s about 18 minutes.

Possible Manfred rule: Limit pitching changes to two per team, including the closer, should the manager decide to use one. An exception would be made for injury, but other than that, just two pitching changes per nine innings.

Enforce the rules you already got. (Savings: 45.75 minutes.)

Plain and simple, baseball doesn’t need more rules. In fact they could stand to repeal a few, most especially that Designated Hitter abomination. And in regard to speedin’ up the game, Manfred only needs to open up his 2018 Major League Rule Book and check out page 35. Rule 5.07(c), “Pitcher Delays”, which reads as follows:

When the bases are unoccupied, (like anytime the Cubs are playin’ the Cards and the Cards are battin’) the pitcher shall deliver the ball to the batter within 12 seconds after he receives the ball. Each time the pitcher delays the game by violating this rule, the umpire shall call “Ball.”

The 12-second timing starts when the pitcher is in possession of the ball and the batter is in the box, alert to the pitcher. The timing stops when the pitcher releases the ball.

The intent of this rule is to avoid unnecessary delays. The umpire shall insist that the catcher return the ball promptly to the pitcher, and that the pitcher take his position on the rubber promptly. Obvious delay by the pitcher should instantly be penalized by the umpire.

Given that whiffle ball head of Manfred’s, it’s possible that rule 5.07(c) went in one hole and out another. There’s a good chance of that. Or maybe his dog ate page 35 of his rule book. Whatever it is, we don’t need a pitch clock and rules defining it. Instead, Womanfred needs to man up and tell that group of narcissist’s called Major League Umpires to do their friggin’ jobs and enforce the rules baseball already has.

And here’s why:

Daisuke Matsuzaka’s pitch pace is the slowest in Major League Baseball, averaging a turtle-like 25.9 seconds between pitches. Mark Buehrle gets the rabbit award with a 16.4 second interval. So even though Buehrle is the lightning bolt of big league pitchers, there’s still a lot of molasses in his gearbox.

Let’s shove the probe up that donkey just a little bit further:

Now take the average between Matsuzaka and Buehrle — 21.15 seconds between pitches — and use that as the average pace for all pitchers. That’s 9.15 seconds over the 12 seconds allotted under Rule 5.07(c). Multiply that figure by the number of pitches in a game — 300 (approximately 150 per side, on average) and you get a total of 2,745 seconds. That’s 45.75 minutes. I think there are some marsupials that have shorter gestation periods than that.

So, Manfred, enforce the friggin’ rules you already got, and keep your sticky fingers off of the perfection of the game.

For anyone who feels I’m unfairly pickin’ on Manfred …

Not so. I’ve picked on every Commissioner baseball has ever had, equally. Besides, they haven’t averaged more than 23 brain cells between them (although that figure would be higher if you took Bud Selig out of the equation). Manfred is just the most recent example of the destructive effects that pathological stupidity can have on the game of baseball. Unfortunately, he won’t be the last.

Joe

WHAT’S THE OVER / UNDER FOR WHEN MANFRED SKATES ON TONIGHT’S CUBS-CARDS OPENER?

· 2017 Cubs, Instant Replay, Joe Sez · , , , , , , , , , ,

NIGHTENGALE-MANFRED-TWEET

Hey there, sponge cakes. Welcome to Opening Day — not Opening Week, as baseball has taken to calling it. That’s gotta be a Manfredism. Speaking of which … Bob Nightengale reports that commissioner Rob Womanfred will be in attendance at the Cubs opener in St. Louis tonight. My question is: When does he adios the game? I figure it’ll be after the 7th, cuz that’s how long he thinks major league games oughta last.

I tend to pick on commissioners, and Manfred is no exception. But, hey, they bring it on themselves. Bud Selig, for example, decided to end the 2002 All Star game in a tie. It’s baseball. There are no ties. And that “World Series home field advantage to the league that wins the All Star game” rule was his, too. I’m tellin’ you … listening to baseball commissioner ideas is like walkin’ your dog — you gotta bring a plastic bag along to pick up all the turds. I’ll give this to Manfred: the guy flushed the ASG/World Series advantage brain fart. But that’s it on the plus side of the Manfred board. Everything else he wants to do — most of which revolves around makin’ games shorter — screws with the fundamentals of baseball.

Some people want shorter games. Yeah, I read about that all the time. But I ask: Who are these people? Are they millennial types raised on iPhones, video games, and blaring music so loud during any break in the action that it makes my toenails hurt? I think maybe so, cuz I don’t hear people my age complaining about watchin’ a game for 3 hours. (Except for Mr. “if it ain’t broke, fix it anyway” Womanfred.) I’d even be willin’ to bet that it was Robbie’s idea to broom the nudie pictures from the pages of Playboy — another institution that didn’t need to be “improved.” I’ll tell ya … if congress wants to investigate something that’s truly un-american … that would be it, my friend!

Point is, maybe it isn’t baseball that needs fixing. Instead, maybe it’s the binge-watching, instant-gratification, short-attention-span generation that can’t spend four seconds away from their social media feeds without breakin’ out in a sweat that needs fixing. Baseball has been around for like a million years, and other than stupidly not lettin’ black players in until Jackie Robinson, it’s pretty much been perfect. It doesn’t need the pathetic DH. It doesn’t need instant replay … especially when the umps still can’t get it right. (See today’s Yankees-Rays opener.) Baseball doesn’t need a fake intentional walk, or a protective bubble around middle infielders, or a special purpose rule puttin’ a guy on second in extra inning games. And it SURE as hell doesn’t need two innings clipped off the tail end. If anything in baseball needs to be clipped, it’s Rob Manfred’s self-important wings and Noah Syndergaard’s goldilocks. Other than that, unless you wanna make American League pitchers man up and take their swings, or turn that F-ing head-banging noise off between batters, or hire the displaced Playboy models as bat girls, we should just leave baseball the hell alone, pallie.

Of course, I could be wrong. But I’m not.

Joe

I PITY THE FOOL THAT GETS IN OUR WAY. INCLUDING KLUBER.

· 2016 Cubs, Joe Sez, The Playoffs · , , , , , , , , ,

CUBS-INDIANS-GAME-1

Hey there, wing nuts. Well, watchin’ Game 1 was about as much fun as gettin’ a colonoscopy from the Tasmanian Devil. Things didn’t go well from the start. The “start” being the stupid friggin’ Bud Selig All Star game rule which takes World Series home field advantage away from the team that actually earns it. So let’s see, Bud … Umm, a game that doesn’t count at all steers the direction of the most important series in the entire baseball season. Great friggin’ idea, ass hat. We shoulda been in Chicago last night for the opener. Period. Would it have made a difference? Well let me put it this way: If it doesn’t make any difference, why then are the best teams in every sport in the known universe (except for baseball) ALWAYS given home field/court/ice/pitch (whatever you wanna call it) advantage in a championship series? If it were up to me, I’d throw Selig in a poorly lit basement with Marsellus Wallace, the Gimp and a blow torch. Maybe a pair of pliers, too. That rule has gotta be flushed.

Anyway, let’s take that outta the equation. It still didn’t start out well. I mean it did, but then it didn’t. Lester threw 5 pitches and had 2 outs in the bottom of the first. Total cruise control. And then it started raining dirty diapers on us. When you’re the Chicago Cubs, Lester is on the mound, you’ve got two outs, and the bases are 100% Indian-free … you oughta get outta the inning unscathed. Not last night.

On top of that, Kluber Lang struck out almost everybody in the first 3 frames. What a fascist. Reminded me a lot of NLCS games 2 and 3 when the Cubs pretended they couldn’t hit. They did a convincing job, too. We snuck a few in last night, though, and had some excellent scoring opportunities, especially against Andrew Miller, that sky scraper they brought in for Kluber. Even Schwarber, who’d had 11 at bats all season before steppin’ into the batter’s box in the 2nd, smacked a double. On balance, though, we looked like Tim Tebow at the plate.

And … AND … the home plate ump had two strike zones — one for Kluber and another for Lester. It was as plain as the blank stare on Bud Selig’s face. Seriously, the quality of the umpiring in the playoffs — at least the games I’ve been watchin’ — is like it was made in Taiwan. Pathetic.

We got KO’d by a team that’s not nearly as good as we are. Personally, I don’t think that’s gonna happen again. We didn’t win 103 games by accident, my friend. As nice as Cleveland’s story is — gettin’ to the Series with so many injuries and all, and not even being in the thing for 68 years — I just don’t think it’s gonna hold up against the Cubs. We only have to do one thing — play like the 2016 Chicago Cubs instead of the Wexley School for Girls.

Joe

BASEBALL IS FULL OF SIGNS, RIGHT? TODAY, LOS ANGELES GOT ONE FROM GOD.

· 2016 Cubs, Joe Sez, The Playoffs · , , , , , , ,

BASEBALL-SIGN

It rained in Los Angeles today. Normally that’s not exactly a film-at-11, David Muir-esque breaking news kinda thing, but then it hasn’t rained in LA since May 5th. (By the way … what the hell does Muir put in his hair … glue? You could do a reverse 3-1/2 somersault off of that do.) Anyway, until today it had been 165 consecutive days without so much as a peep from heaven, unless you count Kobe retiring and takin’ his .350 field goal percentage with him. Not every sign from God is a good one, though. Sometimes it’s more like a No Trespassin’ sign, or a Keep The Hell Off The Friggin’ Lawn sign or, in this particular case, a Closed For The Season sign addressed to the Dodgers.

I found it interesting that today’s sprinkles came right on the heels of last night’s prognostication, in which I predicted a wicked Chicago storm is about to blow through Tinseltown this week. I was talkin’ about the Cubs, of course, but I think the chocolate mess that a few raindrops made outta LA’s freeways today was definitely a sign of what’s about to happen to the Dodgers. Coincidence? I don’t think so.

And they totally deserve it, too. Why? Dave Roberts’ laugh. Last night, when Baez flew out in the 7th about 3 eyelashes from the wall, Roberts unleashed a laugh that coulda gotten him the roll of #1 understudy for Dr. Evil. Michael Clair called it “maniacal,” So true. And I ask you, do normal people laugh like that, or just the possessed, mad scientists, and devil incarnates in the form of Major League managers? I think we all know the answer to that one.

Don’t be surprised if there’s an eclipse or somethin’ over Chavez Ravine tomorrow, or maybe some sort of pagan sacrifice bunting or somethin’ else on the part of the Dodgers designed to conjure the demons of baseball — like Bud Selig — in an effort to skew the game’s outcome through satanic influence.

Joe

PS. By the way, cry me an LA River on the 165 day thing, Los Angeles. You wanna talk drought? I give you the Chicago Cubs, who have gone somewhere in the vicinity of 39,420 days without a ring.

CLINCHIN’ THE DIVISION: SWEET. DOIN’ IT IN ST. LOUIS: PURE COTTON CANDY.

· 2016 Cubs, Joe Sez · , , , , ,

MCGWIRE-SOSA

Hey there, corn nuts, Joe “I can’t stand the friggin’ Cardinals” Schlombowski here to remind you that we start a 3 game series against the Redbirds tonight. I bring this to your attention cuz if we broom these cupcakes we claim the Division title for the first time since 2008. I’d call that pretty sweet … but doin’ it against the Cards? Well, that’s more like cotton candy pancakes smothered in whip cream covered Snickers-infused molten chocolate syrup. With an Old Style.

Clinchin’ in St Louis has a much higher calorie count cuz of the long history of discontent between the Cubs and the Cards. It’s like the Hatfield’s and McCoy’s, Ali and Frasier, Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner. Takin’ the title on the Cards’ home turf would have the added benefit of rubbin’ their noses in somethin’. I’ll leave that to your imagination.

Anyhoo … this reminded me of Sosa and McGwire — two guys that, back in 1998, became a microcosm of this long standing rivalry. That was before they became a microcosm of the cheatin’, roided-up jaggoffs who crapped all over the game of baseball. That aside, their chase for the single season dinger record seemed other-worldly at the time, and it probably did a lot to help bring the national pastime back out from the shadow of the players’ strike, which cancelled the 1994 World Series and part of the next season as well. Assholes.

Seriously. How the hell do you strike when every guy in your industry is makin’ mad money for playin’ a game?! That drives me friggin’ bat guano. Of course the owners pretty much brought it on themselves, and much of that can be laid at the feet of Captain Lame with Lame sauce. Uhh, that would be Bug Selig.

I digress. Point is, Sosa and McGwire spent the ’98 season makin’ like NASA with all the crap they put into orbit. It was mind-boggling. All you had to do was look at either one of ’em to know they weren’t do it the way Maris did, but baseball let it go cuz it was puttin’ butts in seats and makin’ players rich beyond Barry Bonds’s wildest dreams. Anyway, they’re still at it in September when McGwire swats number 62 off Steve Trachsel in the fourth inning of a 6-3 Cubs loss. And what does Sammy do? He makes his way in from right field to embrace his home run rival like a couple of horny grizzly bears. Full disclosure: he wasn’t alone. Hell, half the Cubs lineup practically tried to get his autograph as he was trottin’ around the bases like Secretariat. Which brings me back to the Cubs-Cards rivalry. Or in this particular case, love fest. I’m sorry … I totally get what sportsmanship is all about, but puttin’ your arms around a Cardinal oughta get you fined, my friend. Say somethin’ nice at the press conference, send him a bottle of scotch, maybe. Whatever. But a public display of affection for the arch enemy?! Are you friggin’ kidding me? That’s like Montgomery givin’ Romel a big wet kiss after getting his ass kicked in North Africa. I’m talkin’ oil and water here, my friend. No Cubs player should ever betray the rivalry by doin’ anything that could be construed as “fraternizing” with a Cardinals player.

Fraternization is a term defined as “to become like brothers” and undermines the goals and objectives of war, or in this case a ball game. Providing covert aid or even extending cordiality to the enemy is an offense typically prohibited by military codes of conduct. When it comes to the Cubs-Cards rivalry, I think we’re talkin’ about a similar code, and breaking it oughta be subject to some sort of harsh military-like punitive measures. Like pickin’ up all the sun flower seeds in the dugout between innings, or couple weeks of cleanin’ up Wrigley after each game. I’m just sayin’.

McGwire finished the year with 70 round-trippers, while Sosa had 66. In spite of Mac’s juiced performance, the Cards went nowhere. Chicago finished 90–73, earning us a wild card berth, but we were swept by the Braves in the first round. Typical. So, in the end, all that cheatin’ didn’t do a damn thing for either club.

The animosity between us remains intact, though. Should we respect the Cards? Absolutely. They’ve won a helluva lot more Championships than the Cubs have, so they kinda deserve it. Of course that’s just one more reason to hate ’em.

Joe