In today’s posting, I take on a task I occasionally assign to my students: I argue against myself. Obviously, I will win this argument (and, I suppose, will also lose), but more importantly, will more accurately frame not only this particular issue but also the pursuit of sport ethics.
In Jack Bowen’s May 8 article, he argues it is unethical to simply fail to cut the infield grass for a week so that one’s high school baseball team acquires some minor advantage on the base-paths. This, to me, seems a bit of a stretch. This particular practice, along with various other quirks and rituals of the game, is just part of the culture of baseball. Not being a baseball coach or player himself (Bowen is an avid water polo coach) I suppose he can be forgiven for failing to grasp this.
Cutting the grass in such a manner exemplifies good strategy. And, being within the rules—as is his somewhat outlandish analogy of homerun-fence moving—it’s an ethically allowable strategy. Likewise to “Maury-Wills” an opposing team, as per Bowen’s mention of the San Francisco Giants watering down the base-paths to slow an opponent’s prime base-stealer. In these cases, both teams play on the same field: it’s not that they cut the grass short for half an inning and then lay down another layer of grass for the second half. The grass and base-paths are equally slow for both teams.
Were it not the case that both teams played the same field, then it would clearly give the home team an unfair advantage, as when NFL teams pipe in artificial noise while their team is on defense. Or, more drastically, when the superintendent working at the Minnesota Twins indoor Metrodome in the 80’s and 90’s would alter the ventilation system during games, pushing air up-and-out while the Twins were at bat and then blowing it back at the opposing batters while on defense. When this came to light years later, he defended the practice, stating, “I don’t feel guilty.…It’s your home-field advantage. Every stadium has got one.”
As Bowen mentions, baseball fields vary more than any others in sport. This is just another one of those unique quirks contributing to baseball’s allure and culture. Actually, many professional teams construct their lineup and personnel in order to maximize their respective home field’s quirks. The 1980’s St. Louis Cardinals played on cement-like AstroTurf and so assembled a roster of “small-ball” players: fast, contact-hitters who would chop at the ball, yielding high-bouncing “grounders,” and then beat the throw to first base. Various examples like this exist today with some teams looking for long-ball hitters and ground-ball pitchers to fill their rosters (Rockies, Rangers) while others seek in-play hitters like the Padres who purportedly built their stadium to combat the Giants’ Barry Bonds—and everyone else—from hitting homeruns in their stadium.1 The coach of a team at such specifically quirky stadiums would be foolish not to consider these unique factors as he set his lineups. It would just be poor strategy.
Coaches account for numerous ancillary circumstances such as the sun’s placement in the sky and whether the umpire is calling low strikes. Strike-calling exemplifies the quirkiness of baseball: while the rule book strictly determines a strike, each individual umpire enforces the strike zone differently. Having coaches instruct players accordingly isn’t “unethical”—it’s the quirkiness of baseball. It just is baseball culture.
Something else very subtle goes on during this ball-and-strike calling venture. It’s a phenomenon that, given Bowen’s stance on grass-cutting, I would guess he also considers unethical. Any time a pitch crosses the plate slightly outside the strike-zone, the catcher will “frame” it: as he catches the ball, he cleverly uses the ball’s momentum to tweak his glove, bringing the ball into the strike zone. This is a clear form of deception aimed at influencing an umpire to call a non-strike an actual strike. It’s not only ethically allowable, sportsmanlike, etc. but it’s considered good baseball: a catcher who refuses to do this on moral grounds would never get to the professional level.
And that’s part of the problem with Bowen’s approach. It seems as though he’s trying to apply some universal moral framework to specific issues within a subculture he may not completely grasp. And understandably so as it’s an exceptionally odd and quirky culture, with myriad unwritten rules and “manners,” to use Bowen’s language. For example, a base runner who’s been tagged out should not run across the pitcher’s mound to return to his dugout. That’s a grave error in the culture of baseball though appears nowhere in the rule book. In addition, one should not bunt while the opposing pitcher is in the midst of a no-hitter, even if it’s the strategic thing to do. That’s not how it’s done in the culture of baseball. So for some sports ethicist to poke his head into baseball’s culture and evaluate issues unique to baseball is akin to a baseball player poking his head into the sports ethicist’s home and telling him his family shouldn’t eat asparagus with their hands even if Emily Post says it’s okay. Because it’s his home: his subculture.
In yet another line of reasoning, one of Bowen’s readers expressed a concern about the sort of example the grass-cutting practice might set for young athletes. But here’s another take on what the coach implies when he does this: We are going to be clever and smart about this endeavor. I have examined every rule and, within those rules, we’re going to try to score more runs than our opponent. You guys will give your all as athletes and do the same. Now let’s go out there and play the best baseball we can within the written and unwritten rules! Seems like a pretty good example to me—it’s what we’d like from our youth as they exit the fantasy world of sport and enter the real world. And they’ll still have a chance to display some of that “grit” mentioned in Bowen’s article, as anyone who’s been a batter or pitcher in a 3-2 count with the game on the line can attest—regardless of how long the grass is.
Bowen goes on to express a concern as to what sort of host might alter the grass length. But a team’s so-called “hosting” another differs from our Sports Ethicist hosting people at his home to eat asparagus. Hosting a baseball game requires that you do things like line the fields, pay for umpires, and ensure a rule-abiding playing field. You’re not required to serve them lunch and you’re not required to cut the grass the exact same way you cut it last week. You can even have lunch for your team and not the other—something that would be considered poor manners as a host in the non-baseball world.
In a final attempt, Bowen venerates an argument given by his Athletic Director—another outsider to baseball as he recently finished a stint coaching in the NBA—suggesting the grounds crew should not be forced to act in an ethically dubious grass-cutting endeavor. But, as I see it, the crew either gets a week off from cutting the grass or has a chance to maximize their home team’s performance in a way that doesn’t violate any rules. There’s probably some pride in that, if anything.
I appreciate Bowen’s attempt to strive for fairness and justice within baseball. Where appropriate, we want that. We don’t want players acting in a manner yielding unfair advantages such as using steroids, illegally doctoring equipment, or covertly breaking rules.
1Interestingly, home-field advantage is weakest in baseball compared to the other major sports. In the past 10 seasons during the playoff period, NBA home teams won 73% of their games, compared to the NHL and NFL winning 59 percent and baseball’s home teams winning just 51%. For more on this, see the Bleacher Report article.
