Stop Tinkering With Baseball’s Subtleties--Repeal DH Rule

A pox on 1976, the year the National Federation of State High School Assns. said yes to the designated hitter. I still get queasy thinking about it: one one-dimensional player after another stepping up to the plate to swing a bat. Nothing else. No throwing skills required. No fielding necessary. You don’t even need a mitt--just a batting glove.

Talk about your tools of ignorance.

Wasn’t it bad enough when the NFSHSA (whew!) approved the use of metal bats in 1974, forever inflating batting averages and egos everywhere, as well as ruining some perfectly good dugout chatter? After all, who wants to hear, “He’s off at the clang of the bat,” or, “Attaboy, Eddie, way to get good aluminum on the ball.”

But the bureaucrats weren’t satisfied; tinkering with the game’s subtleties gave them something to do. Two years later, they introduced the DH to the nation’s high schools and the rest, as they say, is depressing.

“I think it’s one of our more popular rules in high school baseball,” said Brad Rumble, assistant director of the NFSHSA. “The intent is to get more people in the game. A lot of times in high school baseball, the best players get to play. This created another chance for players.”

Imagine that--the best players get to play. What an awful idea.

But with the DH, you don’t have to be among the best. In fact, you don’t even have to try to be among the best. Learn how to turn the double play? What’s the point? Learn the proper cutoff men? Maybe later. Figure out how to charge a ball? Uh, perhaps after a turn in the batting cage.

The DH comes with its own safety net: It is easily defended. It is well-liked. It seemingly has no faults.

Rumble, like those coaches in favor of the designated hitter, says the whole point of the rule is to “create as many opportunities as possible for the kids to participate. We are coming from a level different (than the major leagues). Our philosophy has been to give the kid a chance. It should be for fun.”

Hey, I’m all for fun. And nothing wrong with a little participation too. The problem is that the DH has one itsy, bitsy inherent problem: It cheapens the game.

For instance, what’s the advantage of including another player--one-dimensional, at that--when it means sacrificing a certain amount of strategy? And why is hitting so important? Why can’t there be a designated shortstop? Or center fielder? Or catcher? If you really want to include more players, why limit it to a lug who can clang away? Put a premium on the other parts of the game too.

Bob Boone, the former Angel catcher, was fond of saying that a manager wouldn’t win you many games, but then again, he sure could lose some for you. With the DH--on all levels (pro, college or high school)--a manager’s role is diminished. Coaches don’t have to coach as much. Players don’t have to play as much. The DH alleviates the art of second-guessing.

Should a coach pinch-hit for his team’s worst hitter?

Should a coach let his worst hitter hit away or bunt?

What happens if his best fielder is also his worst hitter? Then what?

Not to worry. The DH takes a lot of the guessing (and second-guessing) out of the game, which is too bad, because that’s what makes baseball so interesting in the first place.

I love baseball, but I think I respect the other sports more.

To wit:

You play your best five in high school basketball and take your chances. You substitute on occasion, but every change is considered a calculated risk.

You play your best five in tennis and golf, but with the understanding that a player can challenge another player for his place on the team.

You field your best track or swim team by what the second hand says. But times can change, can’t they?

You choose your football starters by what they do on the practice field, which seems fair.

Of course, don’t tell the NFSHSA this. Before you’d know it, there would be designated free-throwers in basketball, designated servers in tennis and designated putters in golf. Decathletes could skip an event and use their, say, designated pole vaulter to clear 16 feet. The same goes for a swimmer, who could call on a designated freestyler to finish the final leg of the individual medley. Wide receivers could make remarkable catches and then have their designated runners complete the rest of the play.

I’ve had it with specialization. I’ll take the high school player who hits .250, owns a mitt and a position over the guy who thinks pine tar and a .330 batting average is the same thing as knowing baseball.

And one final suggestion about the DH to the good folks at the NFSHSA:

It’s not too late to change.