Baseballhead:
Ready to Rumble

Michael Cox

G'day, eh? It's Baseballhead again, where we ask that the next time you feel like baseball players are overpaid, remember that the guy who plays Joey on "Friends" will get $16.5M next year.

We've had quite an anger-management problem in Major League Baseball this week, with no less than three separate incidents of public fisticuffs, wrasslin', and feudin'. Hell, it was enough to make even a lifelong New Yorker say, "Rickey who?"

We begin in the Friendly (sic) Confines of Wrigley Field, where about a half-dozen Dodgers broke new ground by actually attacking fans last Tuesday. Journeyman catcher Chad Kreuter, taking offense when a lout took his cap, decided not to go back in the clubhouse and grab another off the pile, but to jump into the seats and give chase.

While the Dodgers claim Kreuter was punched, eyewitnesses only saw his cap being removed, and to date no lump or welt has been displayed as evidence. Of course, a violent action has to be used as the reason for the altercation, which escalated when several other Dodgers, none of whom were missing any clothing, decided to get back at the Cub fans for all those years of clever taunts.

Of course, players are standing solidly against the fans. Demands to curb drinking, move players away from inhabited areas, and make jerseys out of kevlar have all been floated by players. Not the good players, mind you, but by players nevertheless.

Several years ago, I witnessed a Western Hockey League game wherein some of the opposing players decided they'd had enough of the fans' taunting, so they stood up and beat on a few with their sticks. Needless to say, the local news that evening asked the burning question, "are fans out of control?"

And as has happened before, fears spewed forth that one day someone might bring a howitzer to the ballpark. "I think about someone not liking me, walking into the game, standing up in the stands and shooting," babbled the Marlins' Cliff Floyd. "It can happen, right?"

Can? Sure. Anything can happen. Tell you what though, anyone who fears for his life on a ballfield should get a different job. Studies have shown the on-field mortality rate of major-league ballplayers at the hands of fans to be precisely 0%. Give the fans some credit for having some brains. If we're all homicidal drunks, you're all wife-beating cokeheads, OK?

And yes, "it takes just one." It takes just one in the parking lot, at the bank, or at your stockbroker's office. Either go home and live in fear under your blankets, or get out there and play ball.

That said, there are some things team owners can do to curb future cap-stealing:

Roll back front-row ticket prices. Almost none of the seats by the bullpens at Wrigley are owned by individual season ticket holders. Most who sit in the good seats are corporate employees or clients who have scored seats, or guys who've bought tickets from their local "broker." These generally aren't "fans," they're guys who are enjoying a night of fun, and those guys on the field are just a distraction.

Don't isolate players from fans. Get 'em closer, accompanied by some security. It's the idea of getting away with it that drives a fan to accost a player, not some sort of rage or hatred. The guy in Milwaukee last year who tried to get a piggyback ride from the Astros' Billy Spiers thought the home team was in the field, and was trying to get cute with one of the guys.

People assign a great number of responsibilities to players for the simple (and I use the word in the "mentally challenged" sense) reason that players are highly paid. Anything from being the role models that dads can't be, to playing rain or shine, whatever the risk, is supposedly part and parcel of receiving a fat paycheck.

However, I feel that a baseball player has certain responsibilities, not by virtue of his paycheck, but by virtue of how lucky he is to be among the fraternity of men smiled on by God and allowed by providence to play the game at its highest level. (Look at me, Ma, I'm Bart Giamatti!)

One of those responsibilities is to never, ever, put innocent fans in jeopardy. Whatever the six Dodgers thought they were doing last Tuesday night, whoever they thought they were fighting, they were jeopardizing the innocent people around them. And as George Bush (the one with the extra initial H) used to say, that's bad. Baaad.

Bad enough to be suspended?

No. Bad enough to be fired.

Speaking of fired, an umpire's disregard of the rules actually started a brawl in Seattle last Saturday. Plate umpire Bill Welke allowed Mariners hitter Mark McLemore to call time as Devil Rays starter Esteban Yan was delivering a pitch. Yan, reacting to the call but wisely not risking injury by stopping in mid-delivery, threw a wild pitch towards McLemore and the hitter charged the mound.

As I mentioned last week, this is one of the three most disregarded rules in the book. To wit, rule 6.02(b) states:

The batter shall not leave his position in the batter's box after the pitcher comes to Set Position, or starts his windup.

But wait -- there's more. To emphasize this rule, the MLB Rules Committee further clarified:

Umpires will not call "Time" at the request of the batter or any member of his team...even though the batter claims "dust in his eyes," "steamed glasses," "didn't get the sign" or for any other cause.

In other words, "No way, no how. Period. We mean it. Just don't." How much clearer can a rule be?

And as I mentioned before, this rule is usually ignored by umpires because they want to avoid conflict with the batter. Sorry, but that's your job. Conflict comes with the territory, and if you can't handle it, there are 100 guys umpiring AAA games and lusting for the chance to prove they can do better.

I'd say that on Saturday there was plenty of conflict over the way this rule was enforced.

If I were Frank Robinson, I'd recommend at least suspending Welke, and giving him a fresh copy of the Official Rules of Major League Baseball to read while he's off.

We'll address the war of words between Royce Clayton and Chad Curtis later. For now, it's au revoir!

about the author

Michael Cox doesn't know the meaning of the word "sleep." Inform him that he might try it sometime at mc@strikethree.com.