The Fingernail Across the Chalkboard

by Robert Nishihara

PING!

It is probably the most annoying sound in all of baseball, and may be one of the primary reasons why the College Baseball World Series ("CWS") will never capture the public's imagination in the same way as the NCAA's Final Four Basketball Tournament.

The dramatic elements are certainly there. Amateur athletes compete in a do-or-die scenario in a sport that is beloved by millions. Emotions are real and raw, and players are not limited in expressing those emotions. Indeed, the sight of a victorious team mobbing the field after a big win punctuates the elation of being able to play another day and take another step closer to a national championship. Underdog schools regularly square off valiantly against powerhouse universities, and thrilling late inning heroics often decide these contests.

Even the venue has a special charm. Venerable Rosenblatt Stadium, located in Omaha, Nebraska, has played host to the CWS since 1964. It is a cozy ballpark that looks almost as if it were plucked right from the set of "Field of Dreams" or "The Natural". Partisan fans wearing the vibrant school colors of their respective squads line opposite sides of the grandstand. Joy on one side of the stadium generally means gloom on the other; this weight and counterbalance effect provides an interesting contrast. As a game's momentum shifts from one team to the other, there is almost a sense of motion as the elation of the moment ripples from one side of the park to the opposite end.

There are so many wonderful elements that make up the CWS it seems a shame that it does not take up a more prominent place in our collective annual sporting calendars.

But there is that one major problem.

PING!

That, of course, is the sound an aluminum bat makes when it strikes a baseball.

Perhaps, the sound is so jarring because it runs counter to the other more traditional baseball components that the CWS so nicely represents. The aura of a cozy ballpark in America's heartland and the enthusiasm of amateur players vying for a piece of collegiate athletic history regrettably seem to be, at least partially, nullified by that decidedly non-traditional metallic ping.

And, yet, if you travel down the road to Williamsport, Pennsylvania (the site of another famous annual baseball event, the Little League World Series), the metallic ping that seems so jarring in Omaha is hardly noticeable at all. While it is true that the Little League World Series does not seem to be hurt at all (in interest or viewership) by the use of aluminum bats, there is a completely different set of circumstances involved. We expect players as young as those who participate in that event to use the lighter aluminum bats. They are easier for a young player to control than wood counterparts and they help to generate enough bat speed to hit a ball effectively.

However, by the time a player reaches college, he is essentially a grown man, and the advantages provided by aluminum bats to younger players are unnecessary for players of college age. And frankly, there is something disingenuous about a grown man using an aluminum bat to hit a baseball.

Of course, simple economics may be the primary reason for the use of aluminum bats in collegiate play. Wood bats break and need to be replaced. Metal bats do not break and can be used continuously. Unfortunately, the monetary savings gained from such a decision are likely to be paid back out in the loss of aesthetic appeal.

And there is a lot of aesthetic appeal to the CWS. By rights, Warren Morris' two-out, ninth inning game winning homer in the 1996 CWS Final, which gave LSU the national title that year, should be an unforgettable moment in the memories of baseball fans everywhere. Morris, who had hit exactly zero home runs that season, seemed the most unlikely player on the field to end a game with a home run. And yet, the diminutive second baseman, who was batting in the ninth spot in the order, did win the game (and the title) with a homer. Unfortunately, Morris' historic shot was not punctuated by the crisp crack of a bat but rather the aforementioned tinny ping.

This year, when the University of Texas was crowned the new CWS champion, a sad fact remained. While millions of viewers tuned in to watch the University of Maryland claim the Men's NCAA Final Four Tournament title this past March, only a fraction of that number were watching when the NCAA's baseball equivalent was decided.

The reason, I suspect, had something to do with what fans knew they would be hearing every time a batter put a ball in play.