Ernie Banks’s enthusiasm was contagious as Covid as he declared, “Let’s play two!”
Will the regularly scheduled doubleheader, the double-dip, make a comeback in Major League Baseball? Auguring this is a matter of time. Literally.
Nice work if you can get it!
To produce a leaner product MLB introduces the pitch clock (2 seconds shaved with runner or runners on in 2024); decrees a limit to pick-off throws; and heeds the message that fashionable yet soul-sucking analytics-shifts be outlawed, returning infielders to positions-defined placement. For good measure near pillow-sized bases have been tossed in to encourage between-pitches action.
From some seasons ago observe sparser per-game “visits” (five) to the pitcher—fewer sermons on the mound, with MVR standing for Mound Visits Remaining.
Free-runners; or, ghost-runners (a.k.a. Manfred Man, for Commissioner Rob Manfred) continue to haunt (or come on without, come on within). Ties at nine innings are expeditiously resolved for the most part. And injury aside, relief-pitchers are required to face the minimum three batters—unless such artists-from-the-bullpen are replaced at the conclusion of an inning.
Benches now have ten seconds from an umpire’s call to request video-reviews. By misfortune, these continue to slow an otherwise-quickened tempo.
Baseball. A largely swifter! freer! electrifying! 21st-century-springtime version of itself. Young, fast, and (yes, still—”coming, Mother!” to analytics) scientific!
And you pays your money and takes your Joyce!!
Amidst the within-game sea change, each club now would also get a whack at every club over the course of 162 games: the good, the bad, and the wallydraigle. This is known as “a balanced schedule,” tho it’s really hapless-shapeless. And wow: more travel. (See four paragraphs below; as well, the penultimate paragraph of this blog.)
Private-airline convivia and travel-fatigue aside, from experience on the minor-leagues level it’s estimated the average nine-innings MLB game shall diet: from three hours and three minutes to two-and-a-half hours.
Welcome home, then, to the old-fashioned weekend-afternoon doubleheader? The twinigther? Such would no longer amount to a crushing—especially if kids are involved—eight-hours plus at the stadium.
We don’t care if we never get back—not!!!
Ballplayers would earn the timely extra-day blow. That off-day following a Sunday doubleheader would ease extra-travel pressures, deriving from fewer intra-division (divisions are predicated on geographic-rivalries) games—a number that’s dropped from 19 to 13. So many clubs qualifying for Wild Card berths diminish the significance of divisional play, possibly an unwise decision by Major League Baseball, which faced pressures to model itself on other U.S. pro sports: the NFL, NBA, and NHL.
Fatalistic, vampiric (Is that a word? What about umpiric?) analytics too, over our years, had been sapping life from games; extinguishing the scintillating, the spontaneity, the fun (oodles of money can foster a clumpy effect—joy can’t be monetized); reducing longevous, rococo-florid ballgames to the even worse: predetermined outcomes.
Time for le cordon sanitaire to boredom.
Infielders’ athleticism would be on display. Batters would return to purer hand-eye coordination. Pitchers would rely on muscle-memory capacity sans iPad opacity.
And the Powers…are…thinking…of…the…stalwart fans? Mere efts. A novel approach to that recessive-gene of fandom, as no games on spring/summer holidays leave a hole in the soul…
…um, heaven forbid between-innings commercials be reduced to interlunations’ frequency or accelerated to meteoric speed. (They’d be MVP’d!)
Stubbornly, timidly reluctant to change compared to cricket, which has reinvented itself in timely ways, baseball by its starchy, branchiopod standards is going all out to inject Banks’s ardour…
…um, even to schedule pack-a-windlestraw-lunch doubleheaders that simultaneously re-energize long-case clock fans and galvanize younger ones?!
A similar novel approach…now to foreshadow the past.
…um, the game is afoot to return to jesterday’s 154 regular-season (or similar)—thereby expanding the Wild Cards’ formula, yet not playing deep in November—and scheduling doubleheaders may well be part of this plan.
In the summer-rhythmic diurnality of baseball, wherein the rivalries and history of the world are played out Lilliputian, wherein followers debate and thrive in nostalgia—its opposite being the prescient past—on the modern-rare day off we’ll imaginatively play the regularly scheduled two too…jestermorrow.