I felt like a kid again as I finished a conference call in my car in the parking lot at Dodger Stadium and headed to my seat for the last few innings of a day game versus the Washington Nationals. The sun was shining, a welcome change from the recent spate of relentless rainy days, and I inhaled a couple of Dodger dogs to complete the experience. If only Vin Scully was still calling the game, life would be perfect (though Orel Hershiser and Joe Davis do a slam-bang job).
Big money has been spent on my favorite franchise, and expectations for a stellar season and a World Series win hang over the club’s head. So watching player after player stand up then ground out, fly out, or get stranded on base made me wonder: will our slow start help us in the long run? Having the winningest season in league history last year got us nothing but an early exit from the playoffs. Although we’re currently in first place, we’ve lost series to the Nats, Angels, San Diego, and Chicago, and the Padres are only one game behind us. Billions of dollars and Shohei haven’t helped us jump out to a commanding lead. Our starters have delivered strong performances … Knack only gave up two in the first inning I missed against Washington … and our relievers have been spotty. As we settle in, could this be the team that gets us the ring and takes the pressure off Dave Roberts? I just couldn’t tell you at this point.
What I can tell you is that the pitch clock has returned the game of baseball to the two-and-a-half-hour experience it used to be in my youth. Growing up in an enclave a stone’s throw from Dodger Stadium, we would come to games two to three times a week as a family. We’d leave our homework on our desks, head to Chavez Ravine and be in and out of the stadium in two and a half hours. Those were cherished memories. Flash forward and the game of just a few years back would regularly last over three hours. Pitchers would relentlessly throw to first trying to get an out; analytics made pitching changes a commonplace occurrence; pitchers could stare down batters for an eternity before stepping off and restarting. Attendance at games and tv viewership sagged and something had to be done. Fortunately, the MLB stepped in and introduced the pitch clock. And now the game has found its rhythm again, both in tempo and in popularity. The next step in the game’s trajectory is computerizing the box: enough of umpire’s missed calls that change the momentum of the game and make losers out of winners and vice versa. If tennis could automate its line calls, MLB should step up as well.
I’m glad to be able to head to the stadium on the way to a meeting, slip inside to soak up the sunshine, get an eyeful of that expanse of green, watch a few innings of my favorite pastime, and then continue on with the rest of my day. The DodgerVision screen doesn’t have to remind me of my work schedule, “Sam Coquillard -conference call at 4PM,” because the game goes by so quickly, I don’t miss a beat. It’s like being a kid again. That’s what baseball does … it temporarily wipes away responsibility and replaces it with fun. Go Dodgers.
