Let’s Learn to Embrace the Balk

I like the balk. The balk is our friend.

I welcome the balk back to major league ball, on behalf of those of us who enjoy seeing ballplayers go around and around the bases.

The balk went out of fashion at some point, as did the flannel uniform and the basket catch, but now it is back with a vengeance.

The balk used to be called maybe three times a month. Now, it is being called three times a game. Sometimes, three times an inning. Umpires are going around saying, “Balk! Balk! Balk!” They sound like chickens.

The balk is very bad news to people such as Bobby Witt, Dave Stewart and Steve Trout, who, as pitchers, are about as excited to see the balk rule enforced as they are to see Wade Boggs standing on deck with men on second and third and nobody out.

The balk is very good news, though, to moi , your average baseball fan.

Why?

Well, for the same reason the lively ball was very good news a year ago.

Because I do not want to see baseball turn into soccer.

I do not want to see final scores of 1-0 and 2-1.

I want runs. Lots and lots of runs.

Anything we can do to make life more miserable for the pitchers, I say, let’s do it.

See, the pitchers are getting bigger and bigger, year by year. Bigger and taller and stronger and faster.

I was looking over the 40-man rosters during spring training, and was amazed at how many pitchers stood 6 feet 7 inches or taller. Mike Witt, Rick Sutcliffe, John Candelaria, Mike Smithson and Dennis Rasmussen are all 6-7, for instance. Lee Guetterman and Steve Ellsworth are 6-8. The Cubs have a kid named Dave Masters who stands 6-9. The Expos have a left-hander, Randy Johnson, who goes 6-10. They won’t call him Lefty. They’ll call him Lofty.

Before long, some 7-footer is going to be out there on the mound, bearing down. His leg kick is going to kick the third base coach in the teeth.

I don’t know about you, but I dread the day when somebody the size of Akeem Olajuwon is delivering fastballs. His catcher isn’t going to put a foam-rubber sponge inside his glove. He’s going to use an oven mitt.

Give me Bobby Shantz, any day. Ron Guidry. John Franco. Fernando. Mini-pitchers. Give me this Bill Wilkinson of the Mariners. He only goes 5-10, 160 pounds. Dick Williams probably thinks he’s the batboy.

I don’t see anybody talking about moving back the pitching mound. I don’t see anybody talking about digging up the rubber and planting it 61 feet from home plate.

True, the batters are getting larger, same as the pitchers.

Remember, though, all this means is that the pitcher gets to face guys with larger strike zones.

Even in his 2-strike crouch, Jose Canseco isn’t fooling anybody. He is no Rickey Henderson. His strike zone is the size of a no-parking zone. And, Dale Murphy is taller than Canseco. And, Von Hayes is taller than Murphy. And, Darryl Strawberry is taller than Hayes.

Dave Winfield used to scare teeny-weeny pitchers to death. Now, they call him Pee-Wee.

I am trying to picture this 6-10 guy from Montreal pitching to Albie Pearson, or Freddie Patek. He’d have to aim so low, it would look like a man pitching horseshoes. To a 7-foot pitcher, Pedro Guerrero looks like Eddie Gaedel.

Anyway, since we are not going to change the dimensions of the diamond, and since we are not particularly eager to spend the 21st Century watching scoreless ties, it has become necessary for us to give batters every possible break.

So, from now on:

1. We crack down on spitballs, scuffed balls, thumb-tacked balls, doctored balls and nursed balls. We frisk Joe Niekro and Kevin Gross whenever possible. We check Don Sutton for Band-Aids on his pinkie and bubble gum on his cap. We allow pitchers to get away with nothing. We even consider taking away their gloves.

2. We remove the back stripe of the batter’s box completely. Not only do we permit a batter to cheat with his back foot, we permit him to stand behind the catcher if he feels like it. From now on, though, there is no such thing as catcher’s interference. Catcher gets conked on the coconut often enough, he retires and becomes a manager.

3. Either we force pitchers to throw from a stretch position even with nobody on base, or we force them to go into a complete windup at all times, making the stolen base that much easier. More steals, more runs, more fun. Also, intentional walks and pitchouts must be thrown within 2 feet of the outside corner. Otherwise, it’s a balk.

4. We keep cracking down on this balk thing. From a stretch, pitchers must come to a complete stop. They must stop for, oh, 10 or 15 seconds. Maybe even half a minute. We’ll put a clock on them. A balk clock. Also, it must be a conventional stretch and stop. None of that jiggly Luis Tiant junk.

5. We no longer allow any of those incredibly unfair fake pickoff moves to second base. Boy, this is really a rotten deal for the baserunner. The poor slob has to hustle back into second base head first, get his uniform all filthy, get the crud scared out of him that he’s about to be picked off second base on national TV, and it turns out the pitcher’s still standing there with the ball, laughing, having bluffed the throw. As someone else, possibly Shakespeare, once said, this stinks. You gotta throw to first base, so you gotta throw to second base, too. Sorry, pal.

I believe the umpires are doing baseball a great service by calling balk after balk after balk. If the pitchers don’t like it, tough toenails. We’ll start using Iron Mikes. We’ll let one of those 9-balls-for-a-quarter machines do the pitching. We came to see guys hit the ball, not miss the ball.

One more thing, you pitchers: No more of this hiding the ball behind your back before you throw it. The batters don’t get to hide their bats. Play fair.

From now on, any pitcher who does not come to a complete stop, or goes to his mouth on the mound, or fakes a pickoff move to second base, or hides the ball behind his back, or refers to an umpire as a fat jerk or a chicken, it’s a balk. Balk, balk, balk.