Out of their element

It is one hour before the fourth game of the championship series in America’s summer sport, and I am wearing long johns.

It is the middle of one of the final and most important laps in a seven-month summer marathon, and I am wearing a wool sweater.

It is the last crack of a summer bat, the last thwack of a summer glove, and I can’t hear either because I am wearing a ski cap.

It is the World Series, and I am freezing, and it’s not the first time.

For eight of my last nine visits to the Series, I have been freezing, and I’m not the only one.

Baseball begins painting its annual portrait in the bright colors of sunshine and warmth ... and inevitably ends with the dark and messy strokes of winter.

From short-sleeved, fist-pumping home run hitters ... to cowering managers in mittens.

From sweating pitchers flying off perfect mounds of dirt ... to desperate pitchers standing on cakes of mud with pine tar on their palms because they can’t grip the frozen ball.

There is something terribly wrong with this picture, while everybody sees it, nobody sees it, and isn’t it time we crawl out from underneath our hoodies and look?

By annually compromising its championship by the calendar, baseball is freezing itself out of America’s consciousness.

Do you think World Series TV ratings are annually falling because the same fans who set attendance records each summer lose interest?

It’s not that people suddenly don’t like baseball.

It’s that, to the average viewer watching slow-moving players perform in front of bundled-up fans, this isn’t baseball.

“When the elements come into play, everything is different,” said the Tigers’ Vance Wilson.

Counting Wednesday’s rainout, the four days of baseball in this World Series between the Tigers and St. Louis Cardinals have each featured temperatures that dropped into the low 40s, with wind chills dipping into the 30s.

Even factoring in the two great catchers, the cold has affected their speed -- there hasn’t been a stolen base, or somebody taking an extra base, or even a close play at any base.

Even considering the good pitching, the cold has affected their bats -- both teams are batting under .200 with more double-play grounders (5) than home runs (4).

“It’s crazy,” the Tigers’ Curtis Granderson said.

And this cold is getting old.

Twelve of the last 13 World Series have played at least one game in football weather. With the increase of playoff rounds and the stretching of the season to accommodate television, the Fall Classic has become the Fall C-C-C-Classic.

Some say the Tigers and Cardinals have played in a World Series before, so why is this any different?

Well, the last time the Tigers and Cardinals met here, Game 7 was played Oct. 10.

Others will say if it’s so bad, how come the game survived with the Minnesota Twins playing host to the World Series in an outdoor stadium?

Well, in losing to the Dodgers in 1965, the Twins played host to Game 7 on Oct. 14.

Baseball has slowly added nearly three weeks to its postseason and, under the new television contract, that schedule will grow longer by as many as four days.

“During long innings, you’re standing out there thinking, ‘Man, is this ever going to end?’ ” the Tigers’ Sean Casey said. “You worry that your ears are going to freeze off.”

This is the World Series?

“You have to figure out what part of your body gets the coldest, and deal with that,” said Granderson. “Some guys, it’s their legs. Other guys, it’s their arms.”

For Granderson, it’s his hands, and he’ll do anything to protect them.

While playing center field, he keeps a tiny heating pad in his pants pocket and sticks his hands inside between pitches.

In the meantime, he arranges for reserve Alexis Gomez to sit on the bench wearing a pair of his thick gloves.

When Granderson comes into the dugout after the inning, he takes the naturally warmed gloves from Gomez and wears them until it is time to bat.

Then, he puts on his batting gloves, which are warm because he has been sitting on them.

Then, he rushes to the plate before his hands get cold again.

Is it any wonder the guy is hitless in 13 at-bats this series?

“I thought there was global warming going on,” said Tigers reliever Todd Jones. “Apparently not.”

In St. Louis’ Busch Stadium, there is only one small electrical heater in the Tigers bullpen, which makes for a pretty interesting sight.

“You’ve got a bunch of guys huddled around this little thing holding out their hands,” Jones said. “We look like a bunch of bums standing around a burning garbage can on some city street.”

This is the World Series?

Baseball doesn’t need to alter the integrity of the 162-game season. It doesn’t even need to contract the playoffs. It just needs to start 10 days earlier, at the end of March, when players are fit and spring training games are particularly meaningless.

You say this will mean too many cold-weather postponements in Northern and Eastern cities?

I say that means more doubleheaders in July, and what’s wrong with that?

The game can survive the elements in March far better than in October, in which, these days, the image of Babe Ruth’s called shot has been chillingly replaced by that of Placido Polanco’s ski mask.

Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.