Imagine this scenario. It is Game 7 of the World Series and the top of the ninth inning, with two outs and a runner at first. The score is 4-3. The team at the plate is the team that have brought you countless moments of laughter and tears, pride and embarrassment, euphoria and sorrow. With one mighty swing of the bat, the ball leaps off the lumber and travels an incredible 350 feet down the right field line. Will your next moments in a precious lifetime be filled with celebrations of a baseball fan’s greatest reward, the privilege to witness the coronation of your team as the sport’s greatest of the year?
Well, no.
What was not stated in that scenario was that your opponent is the Chicago Cubs, and having lost home-field advantage due to an exhibition All-Star Game, the deciding contest was being played in Wrigley Field. Thus, unfortunately, the ball’s 350 feet journey down right field will end in an emotional flyout on the warning track, just in time for the ivy to tickle the outfielder and kickstart the denouement of the season.
The hard truth would be easier to swallow had you the knowledge that the ball would not have left the yard in any of MLB’s 30 stadiums, but to rub salt into the wound, the out would have been an irretrievable walk-off home run in any other ballpark not named Wrigley Field.
Obviously, the vivid description of your heartbreak, as aforementioned, is imaginary (unless you were alive in 1908). However, should we wait until such an outrageous moment occurred before the regulations were standardized?
Baseball is truly a unique sport, from its tactical slow pace to its anything-can-happen quality, but the one dishonourable difference between America’s pastime and other major sports in the world is that the venues in which the sport is played is not regulated.
That’s right, just take a look at Fenway Park. “The Green Monster” is a 37-foot high wall shaping all of left field, but on the opposite side, right field boasts a near-nonexistent 3-foot barrier.
No one is questioning the ability of Major League sluggers to hit the ball out of the park in any stadium. However, the mere existence of ballpark distinctions such as “hitter-friendly” and “pitcher-friendly” should boil blood. Why should hitters or pitchers receive such distinct advantages depending on which team they play for and play against, when every team competes for the same individual and team honours? After all, a player suiting up in Detroit is more likely to have Miguel Cabrera-like numbers than someone at PNC Park.
Sure, teams have already accepted the irregularities in ballpark sizes as special features and advantages of a hometown team, but that does not make it right. And the argument that the “essential” parts of the game, like the pitcher’s mound and length of base paths, are standardized is as strong as a wet paper bag.
Just think about basketball, for instance. What if, depending on the mood of the stadium owners, some courts were constructed larger, wider, and longer than others? The key elements such as the free-throw line and the three-point line would be in the same places, and the basket still 10 feet in the air. How many fans and players would be on board with that?
Only an ignorant baseball fan would overstate the importance of the long ball, but it requires a similar ignorance to brush off the round-tripper as a non-essential feature of the sport. A home run immediately puts runs on the board, but when this scoring method may be easier or harder to achieve depending simply on the location, it is unfair to teams who compete at the same level for the same prizes.
Is it a coincidence that the BoSox and the Bombers, two of the winningest franchises in the league, competed in some of the shortest outfields in the game? The Red Sox have been at the infamous Fenway Park since 1912, which features the shortest left field line at 310 feet and the shortest right field line at 302 feet. By the same token, “The Houses That Ruth and Jeter Built” have identical outfield dimensions at 318 feet and 314 feet for left and right field, respectively.
Now, think about the greatest sluggers in the history of the game. The top 5 home run hitters in history – Bonds, Aaron, Ruth, Rodriguez, Mays – all played a majority of their careers in ballparks that had foul poles less than 330 feet away from the plate. All are or will be Hall of Famers, whenever MLB forgives Bonds and perhaps A-Rod for their indiscretions.
Aside from dimensions, let’s also take a closer look at some in-field specialties of stadiums. Houston’s Minute Maid Park infamously showcases Tal’s Hill, an upward slant on the field with a flagpole erected in the centre. Tampa’s Tropicana Field has frustrating catwalks on the ceiling of the domed park, resulting in crazy popups-turned-doubles-or-homers. And the most recognizable baseball landmark, Wrigley Field, has ivy-covered walls interfering with play several times a year, when balls get lost in them.
There is no excuse for inanimate interference on the field of play, and it is beyond reasoning to comprehend why such designs were approved in the first place. With such precedents, what’s to stop a new stadium from installing obstructions all over the place?
Look, if fans wanted to watch a game of luck and chance, they would be watching the World Series… of Poker. Like all sports, baseball should explore regulations that will standardize stadiums across the league, removing blatant advantages or disadvantages for certain types of players. It certainly isn’t too much to ask for to simply know that a ball hit a certain distance will score a team some runs, is it?
Baseball has long frowned upon the use of performance-enhancing drugs by players, so why have we allowed an essentially similar use of performance-enhancing dimensions by ballparks? Because whether it’s the beloved Cubs or the despised Yankees, fans simply want to watch a fair game, and super-stadiums, big or small, cannot play host to fairness.