Shortened Season — Baseball Bench Coach

Years ago in youth baseball we practiced during the week and played our games on Saturday. Oh did I dread hearing the words “it might rain tomorrow” on Fridays before games! I would get up on Saturday morning and look out the window with the hope that the raindrops had stayed away. Often the rains came despite my wishes. The telephone would ring with the news that our game was postponed until a later date. It would always seem like forever to the next game. That is how I am feeling today. The days have become weeks, and the weeks have become months. Every time a new proposal is made, I hear the pessimistic words from a baseball insider that “we might not play this year”. While I want the players and all club personnel to take every precaution and be safe, I selfishly don’t want the months to become a year.

The 1918 MLB season is frighteningly similar to our present circumstances. Early in 1918 the first wave of the Spanish flu had swept across the country, a pandemic that would last three years and kill 675,000 U.S. citizens and 50 million people worldwide. Our country was fighting World War I at the time, and the War Department issued travel restrictions and bans on public gatherings. Fearful of a second wave of the flu, the War Department allowed MLB to continue play during the summer only if the season ended by September 1st and the World Series by September 15th. Much like the current MLB proposal where travel would be restricted in a regional play format, the Cubs and Red Sox opted for the first three games to be played in Chicago at Comiskey Park (the Cubs’ home, Weeghman Park, was deemed too small) and all remaining games at Fenway; no other travel. On September 11th the Red Sox completed their 4 games to 2 Series win.

That September World Series, the only one of its kind, was historic for many reasons. On the day before the Series was to begin, a bomb exploded at Chicago’s Federal Building killing 4 people, injuring 75 others, and adding to the anxiety whether the Series should even be played. In response to the tension in the stands and to promote patriotism, the U.S. Navy band began to play “The Star Spangled Banner” during the 7th inning stretch of Game 1. The players and fans responded by standing and saluting the American flag, a tribute that set the stage for playing the “National Anthem” before American sporting events in years to come. On the playing field, fans were treated to baseball’s greatest player, Babe Ruth, on the mound. The Babe won games 1 and 4 by giving up only two runs in 17 innings pitched. In late 1919 he was traded to New York and quickly became the legendary Yankee slugger.

The 1918 World Series in other ways foreshadows the issues MLB faces today. The fall-out of playing the Series before fans in Chicago and Boston, even though the crowds were less than capacity, is disheartening. Shortly after the Series, the second wave of the Spanish flu hit hard, especially in the two host cities. By the end of 1918, Chicago’s excess death rate (above normal that was attributed to the flu) was 373 out of 100,000 people, only to be exceeded by Boston’s, an alarming 710 out of 100,000. If we learned just one thing one hundred years ago, it is to keep the fans out of the stands during a pandemic. We also witnessed the discomfort of having labor discord while others are facing more important issues. Before Game 5 of the 1918 World Series players from both teams waged an hourlong strike to try and get a bigger portion of the Series proceeds. The players were persuaded to play since the optics were clearly bad. Harry Hooper of the Red Sox said they played “for the sake of the wounded soldiers and sailors who are in the grandstand waiting for us.”

A much bigger labor dispute caused a shortened season in 1981. The players’ strike in the middle of the season cancelled games for two months and split the season into two halves. Similar to today’s proposal of adding two teams to the 12-team postseason format, MLB played an extra round of playoffs in 1981, featuring division winners from the first half against winners from the second half. Unfortunately, the Reds, with a 66-42 record and best overall in baseball, finished second in both halves and did not make the 8-team playoff. While a 2020 shortened season won’t produce such an absurd result, playing less than 162 games might call into question the World Series result. Just last year the Nationals were 19-31 at the 50-game mark and needed a second half surge to provide us with the fall memories. How many games is enough? Perhaps Hall of Famer Mike Schmidt recently summed it up the best: “If you need a number, you could probably crown a champion following a 60-game regular season. It’s all about money and what everyone is willing to gamble to stop losing it.”

The work stoppage in 1994 illustrates another risk of a shortened season, having the season end prior to declaring a champion in the postseason. On August 11, 1994, MLB play stopped due to a players’ strike and didn’t return until late April of 1995. The statistics of the teams and players in the ’94 season remain on the official books, but seem empty. The White Sox were in the midst of their finest season since 1983, leading the AL Central and perhaps on their way to the AL flag. And how about the Montreal Expos with the best overall record in baseball at 74-40 and a legitimate shot at its first world championship?! Sorry, no postseason play for either team. The player statistic that jumps out is the .394 batting average of Tony Gwynn over 117 games. We’ll never know if Gwynn might have posted a .400 average last reached by Ted Williams in 1941. MLB lost significant postseason revenue in 1994, one of its concerns this year if the season doesn’t start soon and cannot be completed due to COVID-19. What MLB also lost that season was the baseball fan’s commitment to the game. Attendance and viewership post-1994 suffered, resulting in a declining fan base that MLB has struggled to recapture.

The 1918, 1981, and 1994 shortened seasons illustrate the issues MLB now faces in addressing the pandemic. Somehow baseball has always survived. We’ve endured labor disputes, as well as all sorts of cancellations and delays due to heavy snow and rain, extreme cold and heat, high winds, hurricanes, and last May in Cincinnati even a swarm of bees. The most memorable cancellation due to natural causes was Game 3 of the 1989 World Series when a 6.9 magnitude earthquake hit the San Francisco Bay Area prior to the game. The A’s and Giants resumed the Series 10 days later. And probably the most humorous delay involved just one pitch! In Game 4 of the 2011 NLDS series, Phillies pitcher Roy Oswalt complained that a squirrel at Busch Stadium in St. Louis had ran past him and his pitch should not count. The umpires rejected his plea, and the “Rally Squirrel” would help the Cardinals in their own run to the world championship.

Boy we could use a “Rally Squirrel” about now announcing strict medical protocols to be in place and a shortened season starting sometime soon. 82 games (MLB’s proposal), 114 games (Player Association’s response), 50 games (apparently MLB’s current fallback), or frankly any number of games with a view toward a September or October postseason, would be welcomed news. My wife and I got married in 1981, right in the middle of MLB’s work stoppage. It was my bright idea to stop in Paducah, Kentucky, on our drive back from our honeymoon for dinner and, believe it or not, an American Legion baseball game. Somehow, our marriage has survived all of the times since then when MLB play has been interrupted. I just wish now that I would be looking out my window worrying about whether rain might delay or postpone today’s game.

Until next Monday,

your Baseball Bench Coach