Sideline Chatter
The debate of the designated hitter
There are certain aspects about the game of baseball that exemplify indescribable beauty in a way that no other sports can.
Its ability to make time disappear. Its historic longevity as “America’s pastime.” The perfection of its field-lay-out and distances. The vast trove of statistics that enable you to compare players over more than a century. Its great legends and anecdotes. It is truly a game built on a mound of soul.
However, there is a rule in this game that trashes a bit of baseball’s charm: the rule of the designated hitter (DH).
One of the biggest debates in sports is whether or not the DH should exist in baseball.
The DH is a rule in which the pitcher is taken out of the lineup and is replaced by a specialty hitter who only hits and never plays in the field.
This allows the pitcher to remain in the game focusing solely on throwing perfect innings and striking out sluggers.
The two leagues that make up Major League Baseball (MLB) are the American League (AL) and the National League (NL).
Years ago, the AL wasn’t producing the same offensive numbers and attendance records to compete with the NL.
So, based on the myth that fans love home runs more than anything else—that they love a slugger who can step up to the plate and blast a ball 450 feet, bringing a team who’s down by a three run deficit back into contention—the American League adopted the designated hitter in 1973.
The decision has been the subject of hot debate among baseball fans ever since.
Well I have my own strongly-held opinion. I think that having pitchers hit is one of the more beautiful and soulful aspects of the game.
A few years ago, I sat in the nosebleeds of Petco Park, home of the San Diego Padres, and watched the 285-pound New York Mets pitcher Bartolo Colon stumble apprehensively up to the batter's box. There was one man on second base, and the Mets were up 2-0.
With a lifetime .094 batting average after nearly 20 years in the big leagues, I wasn’t expecting much from the 42-year- old veteran.
His awkward batting stance and shaky swing added to the likelihood of him being an automatic out.
But with the count even at one ball and one strike, Colon blasted a ball deep to left field—his first-ever home run soared into the stands. His teammates poured out of the dugout to greet him at home plate, the announcers shouted in disbelief and the stadium erupted in excitement.
Even Colon looked like a kid on Christmas as he trotted along the bases. It was one of the better moments this generation of baseball has ever seen.
Baseball should be about miracles.
I believe in old-fashioned hardball, where pitchers take a crack at the plate just like all the other position players. They don’t have to be home run hitters—they can hit for placement and bunt to move runners.
Having a pitcher come to bat, especially in a close game with runners on base, forces players to make more strategic offensive plays. It also forces managers to think about the larger game.
With baseball today now producing more home runs than ever, the game lacks the “small ball” plays that in the past gave the game more soul.
There should be more suicide squeeze attempts, hit-and-runs and sacrifice fly-outs—plays that pitchers can make happen if given the chance.
There should be more runs manufactured in methodical ways, rather than simply calling upon your biggest slugger to hit the infamous three-run homer–and more often than not, strike out.
The NL has yet to adopt the DH rule. And it seems the slightest bit purer for having its pitchers step up to the plate just like the eight other players on the roster.
Seeing a pitcher climb in the batter’s box to face another of his kind–and often swing like a fool at the very same pitches that make him one of the game’s bests—is one of the coolest parts of the game.
And when a pitcher yanks a hanging curveball into the stands, as Colon did that day, it’s more than wonderful. It's magnificent.
Contact Lacey Yahnke at lyahnke@scu.edu or call (408) 554-4852.