Tradition!
One of the many fine themes of the classic movie and play (not to mention Sholem Aleichem’s great novel) “Fiddler on the Roof” is “tradition.”
It is a word that carries much meaning for many of the Jewish faith.
And baseball fans.
While comparing the opening song of Fiddler and its historical significance to one of the world’s great religions seems a bit trite (but hopefully inoffensive), there are people in our midst who believe baseball is a religion.
They watch late games on the west coast, they’re devoted to fantasy baseball, and they believe Opening Day should be a national holiday. They wear the sweaty replica jerseys of their favorite players. And they excuse themselves from dinner parties to check scores.
But among all other major sports, baseball is an institution where history and tradition are as important as a walk-off double and the false idea that the Grand Old Game was invented by Abner Doubleday.
Tradition is as much of a part of baseball as hotdogs, Cracker Jack and outrageous beer prices.
Yet the big cheeses who are doing their best to ruin the former national pastime, have annually announced new aspects of the game. Bigger bases. Zombie runners who begin their journey to home plate at second base during extra innings. The pitch clock.
Clearly, baseball’s big wigs have thrown tradition over the outfield fence.
In the name of “evolving” the great game into something of a video game as opposed to real sport, they have made changes to the ballgame that would make Casey Stengel sputter in frustration.
This year, “robot umpires” will join the evolution.
The “Automatic Ball-Strike” (ABS) Challenge System will allow challenges to the home plate umpire’s call of balls and strikes. The challenges are limited to two per team, but the rules are arcane and likely to change once this evolutionary device is declared “popular” by the commissioner’s office.
Anyone who has attended a Dunedin Blue Jays or Clearwater Threshers game has already witnessed ABS for several years. The minor leagues, as baseball’s laboratories, have successfully used the system without travail, and players tend to like it. There’s even a small charge of excitement as fans watch the scoreboard to get the reveal and see if the ump or the robot got it right.
That’s excitement. Like accurately guessing which animated baseball cap on the scoreboard is hiding the ball.
It’s all in the name of accuracy, or “getting it right.” But other than gamblers and cranky ballplayers, who cares if an ump seems to have vision problems? Umpires blowing calls and players who believe they were unfairly punched out has been part of the game for more than a century.
It has always been that umpires have their own strike zones and players have always adapted. It is part of the human element of the game. Sure, there are bad umps — Angel Hernandez was notorious before leaving the game one step ahead of the sheriff.
Back in the day, when only three arbiters took the field, organists would play “Three Blind Mice.” But it’s part of the game to have umpires miss calls. “Getting it right” is a relative term, and historically most umps are top-notch. They do get it right.
Baseball has always had bad calls by the umps. But that’s because they’re human. And taking the humanity out of baseball means the end of countless complaints and barroom arguments, not to mention screaming managers and players.
Robot umps will not destroy the game, though they’ll take a little fun out of it.
It’s enough to make Tevya cry foul.
