Time to Go to the Videotape

Based on the epidemic of missed homerun calls over the past week, is it time to find a place for instant replay in the MLB?

A few weeks ago, I wrote “ Jason mentions that we haven’t seen a double play from Wang tonight.  I counter with the fact that there haven’t been many base runners.  As our discussion concludes, Jamie Burke walks and Yuniesky Betancourt promptly raps into a 4-6-3 double play to end the top of the fifth.  It is amazing how baseball consistently almost instantly provides moments that answer your basic questions and addresses your most inane thoughts. ”  Well, the baseball gods have brought us something new to debate.

It all started last week, when Carlos Delgado’s homerun off the bottom corner of the leftfield foul pole was waved off by the umpires at Yankee Stadium.  Despite replays on ESPN and even a recorded scuff mark on said pole where it was struck by the ball, once the umpiring crew got together and concluded “foul ball,” there was no going back—Delgado will now always have one homerun less in his career.  Since then, there has been an insane conglomeration of missed homerun calls over the past week.  Since Delgado’s opposite field line drive, umpires have deprived Alex Rodriguez, Ben Francisco, and Geovany Soto of delightful jogs around the bases.  (I phrased it that way, because Soto still obtained an inside-the-park homerun.  But he’s a catcher, he couldn’t have been too happy about all that running.)

It is pretty clear that the baseball gods have had enough.  Based upon the entrails of the sheep I sacrificed this morning, the gods clearly are saying it is time for the implementation of instant replay.  Beyond the molasses-like movement of the baseball brass and its simple to desire to only adopt change in the most painstaking and arduous manner, the biggest impediment facing instant replay will be the umpires themselves.

In my experience, there are no more stubbornly proud people in all of sports than baseball umpires.  From my own playing experience, these people look upon their assigned area of the field as their own personal kingdom; and woe be anyone who dares question how they might rule their fiefdom.  Umpires have a thankless job.  When they do their job well, it is expected—they very rarely receive acclaim.  When they fail at their job, everyone knows.  As a result, many umpires through all levels of the game have developed pretty sizable chips on their shoulders.  Though they may do their job acceptably, they will brook no insubordination from players or coaches.

There is an amazing story that travels through St. Louis about my coach in college, Ric Lessmann.  During a game, coach found himself diametrically opposed to the home plate ump.  By the fifth inning, coach had argued balls and strikes one too many times and been ejected—at which point he decided to get his money’s worth.  Lessmann sauntered out to the field and stood directly on home plate.  When the umpire told Lessmann that he would be thrown from the stadium if he kept it up, coach responded, “You can’t possibly throw me out.  I’m standing on the middle of the plate.  You haven’t seen anything over the middle of the plate the entire day”—a classic line that I look forward to utilizing some day.  Ultimately though, knowing that umpires deal with lose-lose situations like that on a daily basis, is there any wonder that they have become stubborn and territorial?

A few years ago, Major League umpires took a huge step—they began yielding some of their power to other members of their blue-clad nobility.  In instances where uncertainty rears its ugly head, umpiring crews now meet and come to a consensus as to what is the correct call.  Now, baseball needs to take the next step.  The NFL, NBA, and NHL have all instituted instant replay.  The NHL reviews questionable goals, the NBA double checks buzzer beating shots, and the NFL has the challenge system, which I fully expect to be called the Jeep Cherokee challenge system within the next few years.  None of these systems are invasive.  They do not ruin the flow of the game.  Most importantly, they do not remove the human element of the calling games.  An NFL referee can still screw up holding and pass interference calls all he wants.  An NHL official can determine penalties, offsides, and when to step in during a fight.  In the NBA, referees can alter a game by calling fouls on whatever play they see fit.  Moreover, as we saw in the Pistons-Magic series, even the instant replay system is not without the human element.  Ultimately, these other leagues decided that, though they might bruise some egos, getting the call right was paramount.

Now, I do not suggest instant replay having jurisdiction over ever play.  Umpires should be permitted to both screw up safe-out calls and to continue to call that absurd bottom-of-the-belt to bottom-of-the-thigh strike zone all they want.  If instant replay was available on every play, games would last full weeks, like Native American lacrosse games of old.  But in determining whether a ball hit a foul pole or hit an abutment beyond the outfield wall and bounced back, why not use technology and get the call right?  Why should I, as a viewer of ESPN or YES, know that the call was wrong before the guy who makes said call?  Every clubhouse in the major leagues has at least one big screen HD TV; why not use it for these types of plays?

For all the critics that cite the importance of the human element in calling baseball games, I have one more firsthand experience to share.  In high school, I saw very few quality umpires, but one instance stands out from the others.  On a weak fly ball down the leftfield line, our leftfielder raced over from left-center only to have the ball pop out of his glove.  However, it looked like he had first touched the ball in foul territory, and it had bounced fair.  The umpire made no call, and by the end of the play, the batter stood on second with a double and a run had scored.  When our coach asked the umpire if the ball had been touched in foul territory, the umpire honestly—and to this day, I commend him for his forthrightness—responded, “I don’t know, I can’t see that far anymore.”

That is the definition of the human element.