From the Archives
January 9, 2001

The Seventh Inning Stretch
A Modest Plan to "Save" Baseball

January 9, 2001

There's presently a lot of naysaying about the format and pace of baseball games that might disturb the traditional baseball fan.

The preponderance of evidence suggests that the major changes most baseball fans would have the powers that be make are the abolition of the DH and astroturf, with enforcement of the legal strikezone a distant third. That organized baseball isn't really taking active steps towards what would overwhelmingly popular, relatively easy-to-implement reforms tells a whole 'nother story about the people running the game that is best told on another day.

We've heard for years that the game is too long, too slow-paced, and doesn't have enough "action" to satisfy the modern generation of channel-flipping, joystick-twiddling, rapid-eye-movement-stimulating entertainment consumers. The fact that a record TV contract has just been signed despite this apparent lack of entertainment value to the more valued advertising demographic groups with short attention spans, despite the current alleged problems with the game itself, might not be as important as the idea that the whole game now needs to be shaped around the TV broadcasters' ideas of entertainment.

It is true that there's a dovetail between the concerns of fans and the networks on peripherals of this issue, notably World Series games ending after midnight and your average kid fan not being able to see the end of a normal weeknight game during the season. TV is unwilling to start the games earlier, which would cut into other programming, ergo the problem is identified as that of game length.

The bottom line seems to be the expectation among the people that control the game that baseball needs to be more TV-friendly. The lack of "action" -- a subjective measure that seems to be based on the premise that fans find the inside game of baseball to be too hard to learn and follow -- is one of the pillars of this fixing-what-isn't-broken philosophy. The other is the progressive lengthening of the game time, which makes it hard to fit into current programming formats. One suspects that TV would be happier if the average game was no more than the usual Hollywood movie length, plus commercials, and full of explosions, metaphorical or literal.

Again, neither of these problems seems to have deterred Fox and Disney/ESPN from throwing untold gobs of money at the sport. Still, we're talking about the perception of a problem by the people in charge of the major league game, not the reality. The litany of trashtalking of the sport by the likes of Sandy Alderson, Bud Selig, and a disturbingly high number of media figures has ensued, along with many proposals for "fixing" the alleged problem. So it's a real issue, most especially for us baseball cranks who don't see a major problem to be fixed.

There's also considerable discussion about the economic structure of the game, ranging from the imbalance in payrolls and profits to quarter billion dollar player contracts. Regardless of whether any of these is a real problem, or are problems that can't be solved fairly simply if baseball simply steels itself to do so, these considerations enter into the discussion of what kind of structural changes to make to the game that would affect what happens on the field. The fracas around the Umpires' Union over the past two years, for example, mixed economic issues with consistent calling of strikes with the relationship of discipline among players, teams, the leagues, and the umps. The Players' Association objects to abolition of the DH because it would reduce a very small number of high-paying jobs -- and I suspect the Commissioner is in favor of getting rid of it not so much as a purist, as he claims, but to reduce payrolls -- but the effects on offense and game length are inherent to having the position.

The Commissioner's office, having identified game length and inaction as problems on the field without much evidence they've contributed to any loss of interest in the sport, has felt compelled in recent years to try to nibble away at this alleged problem with an incrementalist approach.

Remember when Frank Robinson was appointed the Czar to Speed up Games? Of the many tiny proposals to speed up the game, some of which were implemented and others of which were not, none came close to addressing the two fundamentals that have lengthened and slowed games. The first and most obvious, of course, is the TV timeout, which sandwiches an extra 50 minutes to an hour into each game. If our purpose is to make the game TV-friendly, clearly this can't be touched. The second is the length of the game itself, as played on the field. No matter how much you analyze the little bits of time consumed in the game by inaction -- stepping out of the batter's box, visiting the mound, throwing intentional walks, pitching around batters -- all this is simply micromanagement.

The new changes are bandied about with considerable looseness by those at the very top of the game, ranging from the Commissioner proposing the dubious idea of a 'talent draft' to transfer players from the best teams to the poorest teams to raising the mound. The law of unintended consequences strongly suggests that whatever changes these proposals, if implemented, might have on the game will not address the primary issues. Those issues are: alleged lack of action, games that are too long.

Frankly, I'm most disturbed by the proposed solutions, which is why I'm proposing a simpler, better one myself without endorsing the existence of the alleged problem.

Rather than screw around with things that might really mess up the core beauty of baseball, I have a simple and direct proposal. Reduce the designated game standard game length from nine to seven innings.

I can already hear the knee-jerk reactions from purist and casual fan alike, but bear with me. I'll deal with some potential objections below. Let me first extol the obvious virtues of this move and some side effects that might be pleasant to both the owners and players' union as well as the fan.

First and foremost, this is the direct solution to the alleged problem of game length. Baseball is not measured in time and controlled by a clock, officials, and team timeouts. Even though there's a book-rule that limits the amount of time between pitches, it's never been enforced -- because it's anathematic to the way the game is actually played. If you enforced this rule, or in any other way changed the ability of either the pitcher or the batter to control the pace of the confrontation simply to speed up the game, the core of baseball would essentially be put on a clock (and a rather inefficently-designed clock). I find glib proposals to monkey around with these dynamics to be frightening and radical changes in the core of the sport. Raising the mound (as opposed to enforcing the book strike zone) is even more radical and likely wouldn't achieve shortened, more action-packed games, as the strikeout, walk, and three-run homer would reign as the increasingly familiar non-events of the game.

Baseball is and has always been measured in innings. If the games are too long, reduce the number of innings. That's the simple and direct solution to the game length problem, and the primary side effect would be to increase the action level.

There's nothing magical about having nine innings to play a game, other than a certain pleasing numerical roundness of having a number of innings and outs based around powers of three. But it's just a coincidence. Baseball games in their modern amateur form, were played in an hour to an hour and half, and even with regularized professional play before the advent of TV, usually were completed in about two hours. While it's very true the lengthening of games has been a gradual process of a century's making, the number of innings was settled on at nine in Cartwright's day largely to make the contest last about an hour and a half, not because of anything intrinsic about the number nine.

Junior games only go five or six innings both because of the limited endurance of youngsters both physically and mentally, but also so they can be fit into busy family schedules. Many high school and college games are already limited to seven innings (often to accommodate getting two games into a single afternoon). Softball, an extremely popular participatory bastard cousin of baseball, in almost all its forms lasts only six or seven innings.

Further, professional baseball has always accommodated shorter-than-nine innings games. An official game, after all, is defined as five innings. In the era before artificial lighting, games would be called on account of darkness in the 8th, 7th, or 6th inning with regularity. We don't play the bottom of the ninth if the home team is ahead (nearly half all games played). And of course we lengthen games indefinitely without question in the event of a tie after nine (except in Japan, where tie games end after twelve innings). There's nothing about nine innings that makes baseball purely baseball. [more]

[continued]

Would this actually reduce the game time? The evidence of the college ranks and major league spring training games (despite the many, many substitutions) says yes. The "end game" of the last one or two innings would remain, of course, so the time-lengthening issues of managers engaged in bench chess-matches would be unresolved. Eliminating two innings would probably be rougly akin to taking out the current sixth and seventh innings, though, which tend to feature a lot of middle-relief changes, visits to the mound when the starters start to get shaky, double-switches, and other time-wasters.

Starters doing well would have more complete games. Starters struggling would get yanked earlier because of the loss of six outs to come back. Blow-outs that have become boring would have their own built-in mercy rule. Scoring would decrease, but little ball -- which primarily exists only in the rare pitching duel or in late and close games -- would make a comeback as the number of scoring opportunities is reduced 15% and the "clock" is shortened so that "late" game situations would start in the fifth.

The Players' Association might well object to such a solution. Starters would last longer, meaning fewer overpriced jobs for middlemen, and below average starters who can't go more than five or six innings would suddenly become more useful. Probably fewer bench players would be needed. Owners would undoubtedly have a less severe supply and demand problem, since there would be fewer innings to "fill" with personnel, and that always depresses wages no matter what the industry.

But players would also be more rested over the course of the season, and savings in game times would translate into more free time for the players, somewhat easier travel schedules, and fewer injuries. And unless roster sizes are changed, there'd still be as many major league jobs. Implemented in conjunction with a long-term deal for labor peace, objections from the Players' Associations could be easily assuaged and balanced by these advantages.

Some purists -- and player agents who rely on offensive inflation to prop up their clients' portfolios in arbitration and negotiations -- may object to the fact that the records and season totals will be depressed. Quite obviously, counting stats of all sorts that are tied purely to plate appearances would be reduced by about 13%.I don't think the number of 20-game winners will go down (pitchers will have fewer innings on their arms and there will be fewer opportunities to have middle relief blow a lead), and I suspect saves will also remain constant (lower scoring games increasing the number of save opportunities will offset any increase in complete games), but it's immaterial either way.

In the past, Ford Frick and Roger Maris' asterisk notwithstanding, nobody has really fundamentally objected on statistical grounds to adding eight games to the schedule (a 5% addition between 1960 and 1961), to playing games to completion that were once called early (on account of darkness, before lights), or even radical things like changing dimensions of parks and the height of the mound, all of which have had much more major effects on statistical accumulation than lopping off one and a half to two innings per game would have. Yes, the definition of perfect games and no-hitters and the like would have to change, but that's already been messed around with by the powers that be, fairly recently (just ask poor Andy Hawkins). So it's a bogus issue.

I can see only two fundamental objections to this proposal. One is a simple knee-jerk reaction that baseball games are nine innings, period. This would pass, as objections to the wildcard, DH, astroturf, divisional play, integration of baseball, use of the spitter, the batting helmet, the fielding glove, and so forth have or have not passed depending on how they have done on the playing field and in the hearts and minds of the fans.

The second fundamental objection is that of the baseball glutton such as myself: we like nine innings, and three hour games, because the fun lasts longer. But this attitude is antithetical to the notion that baseball games are too long to begin with. A two-hour nine-inning game is still only two hours of joy, much as a two-hour seven-inning game is also two hours. And we'll still have our occasional three and a half hour seven inning game, I'm sure.

I have an abbreviated suggestion for implementing this on the major league level. Use seven-innings only for Monday through Thursday weeknight games. People have more time on the weekends for a leisurely game, and TV viewership drives weeknight games much more than weekend games, anyway.

The only real problem with this proposal that I don't have an immediate answer for is when to sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame".

Is he serious? you're asking yourself. Reduce games to seven innings? Yes, it's a stretch. But really not that much of one if you sit and think on it a spell. If there really is a need to shorten games, I'd much prefer getting to the core and lopping off a couple of innings than monkeying around with the microcosmic but fundamental mechanics of game situations.

Besides, they don't sell beer after the seventhinning anymore, anyway.

The Baseball Crank may be contacted at crank@thediamondangle.com.
(c) 2001 Matthew Wall/The Baseball Crank.