As I grew older, I developed a passion for other sports too. I liked soccer and basketball, and even gave football a try. My love for baseball began to fade and basketball started to become a passion. When I broke my right wrist during baseball season before eighth grade, I decided that the injury would end my days on the diamond.
I still paid some attention to baseball. How could I not? Growing up this close to St. Louis, plus having a nationally-recognized high school baseball program right in my home town meant that baseball was always a topic of discussion.
As I was growing up, I didn't notice how much the game was changing. The players were getting larger and slower. Home run numbers began to climb higher and higher, but base-stealing was becoming a lost art. I just figured hitters were getting smarter, and the need for stealing bases was diminished. The thought of steroids never crossed my mind.
Even after the issue of steroid usage came to the forefront, and baseball's governing bodies gave more effort to curb the use of performance-enhancing drugs, the long ball remained. I hadn't noticed that the strike zone had gotten smaller. I actually didn't notice while I was awake. I'm not kidding. I had a dream about baseball.
About a week ago, I dreamed that I was an on-air sports radio personality. In this dream, I was debating with a few other sports reporters about the parallels of a smaller strike zone and home run frequency. I remember when the strike zone was the width of the plate and was as tall as the space between my chest and my knees. Now it seems like the K zone only stretches from the top of the batter's pants to just below the knee cap.
(He needs to get the bat up.)
I (being the super-knowledgeable casual fan that I am) assume that the strike zone shrank and shifted as a result of the increased frequency of home runs in the '90s. The new strike zone seems to be more of a home run hitter's zone. That region mirrors Josh Hamilton's wheelhouse. In essence, the umpires would be penalizing the batter for not bringing the lumber to a pitch that stands half of a chance to clear the bases.
(Would that be considered a 'high' strike?)
I bet this smaller, hitter-friendly strike zone makes a pitcher's job even more difficult. Even the best pitcher only has two, maybe three pitches in his arsenal to get guys out. It's tough enough to throw hard over the plate, but now pitchers have a smaller window to work with. Once upon a time, the high heat was around chin level. Now it's only chest high. Technically, a chest-high fastball would be a ball, but it's an awfully tempting pitch to some batters.
So when you consider that the league is now building friendlier parks for batters in order to produce a higher total of home runs, combined with the fact that umpires are basically forcing the pitchers throw tomato cans, there is certainly a bit of a competitive advantage. Now I'm not suggesting that there is no skill in hitting a baseball. However, these guys are professionals. They've been training and playing for years. They're good at it already, and they're getting more help from the ump?
No wonder a good pitcher will command such a huge free-agent contract. It's become more difficult to actually be a good pitcher. The chips are stacked against him! What they ought to do is increase from four balls to five. Who can blame a pitcher for trying to lure batters to take cuts at pitches just above or inside the new low-calorie strike zone? No hurler worth his salt wants to serve up round-trippers for five innings every fourth day.
But I digress... while extending the count might reduce some of the competitive advantage granted to batters in the modern game of baseball, that's not what people pay to see. Sure, we all admire a no-hitter or a shut-out, but I'd rather see the long ball.
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