by David Nemec
4.03 Exchange of Lineup Cards
Unless the home club shall have given previous notice that the game has been postponed or will be delayed in starting, the umpire, or umpires, shall enter the playing field five minutes before the hour set for the game to begin and proceed directly to home base where they shall be met by the managers of the opposing teams. In sequence:
(e) As soon as the home team’s batting order is handed to the umpire-in-chief the umpires are in charge of the playing field and from that moment the umpire-in-chief shall have sole authority to determine when a game shall be called, suspended or resumed on account of weather or the condition of the playing field. The umpire-in-chief shall not call the game until at least 30 minutes after he has suspended play. The umpire-in-chief may continue the suspension so long as he believes there is any chance to resume play. Nothing in this Rule is intended to affect a Club’s ability to suspend or resume any game pursuant to a policy governing severe weather, significant weather threats, and lightning safety that has been filed with the league office prior to the championship season.
Prior to the 1896 season, it was left to the judgment of the home team captain whether the field was fit to continue after play had been stopped. Naturally, this had high potential for abuse. A home side trailing, 10–0, before a game had gone the required five innings to become an official contest was unlikely to want to continue to play if there was a single drop of water on the field that could be cited as a possible hazard. Conversely, the home captain was apt to wait until dark before calling a game if his team happened to be down a run in the late innings when the heavens opened.
The first upheld American League forfeit fell under the post-1896 rule change. It came in Chicago on May 2, 1901, barely a week after the rival major league first opened its gates for regular season play. With a steady rain falling and the skies ever darkening, the home team, behind the pitching of team captain Clark Griffith, held a 5–2 lead over Detroit in the ninth inning with two out when third baseman Fred Hartman made a wild throw to first. Within minutes, Detroit had raced to a 6–5 lead. Griffith at that point began pressuring umpire Tommy Connolly to stop the game due to the intensifying rain, expecting that darkness would fall soon thereafter and force the score to revert to the previous inning. But Connolly refused to halt play and issued repeated warnings to Griffith for stalling. Griffith proceeded to walk Tigers second baseman Kid Gleason and attempted to do the same with right fielder Ducky Holmes, but Holmes doubled, plating Gleason and giving Detroit a 7–5 lead. Holmes then ran illegally from second to home, begging to be declared out so the top half of the inning could end—but Connolly had seen enough and forfeited the game to Detroit. Had Griffith managed to hold off the umpire for just a minute or two longer, he would have gotten his wish for a rain stoppage that under the old rule would have allowed him as field manager to call the game on account of darkness with Chicago winning, 5–2. The skies burst into a torrential downpour almost immediately after Connolly’s forfeit proclamation, but the deluge did not stop the crowd from rushing the field, attempting to get at the umpire. One fan reportedly took a swing at him before he could escape to a dugout. Chicago president and former player Charlie Comiskey hurried down to the field from his grandstand box and was able to scatter the angry fans.
Because Detroit had taken the lead before the forfeit was declared, the Tigers’ Emil Frisk received credit for the win and player-manager Griffith, who was as responsible as anyone for his team’s stalling tactics, took the loss. After the series between the two teams, which was clogged with kicking and bickering, Sporting Life observed, “Connolly will have to get up more nerve if he expects to succeed in the American League.”
Kid Gleason would later be the manager of Chicago during the 1919–20 Black Sox scandal. In 1953, despite his extremely rocky and at times spineless start at officiating in the majors, Connolly shared the honor with Bill Klem of being the first two umpires voted into the Hall of Fame.
4.05 Special Ground Rules
The manager of the home team shall present to the umpire-in-chief and the opposing manager any ground rules he thinks necessary covering the overflow of spectators upon the playing field, batted or thrown balls into such overflow, or any other contingencies. If these rules are acceptable to the opposing manager they shall be legal. If these rules are unacceptable to the opposing manager, the umpire-in-chief shall make and enforce any special ground rules he thinks are made necessary by ground conditions, which shall not conflict with the official playing rules.
A prime example of a special ground rule of the type depicted in this rule occurred in the very first modern World Series in 1903 between the Pittsburgh Pirates and Boston Americans. The two clubs played to overflow crowds in several games at both Boston’s Huntington Park and Pittsburgh’s Exposition Park, located in Allegheny, Pennsylvania. When the Series moved from Boston to Exposition Park in Game Four, the two managers—Fred Clarke of the Pirates and Jimmy Collins of the Americans—agreed to call any ball that rolled under a rope holding back the overflow crowd in fair territory a ground-rule triple. As a result, a Series-record 17 triples were hit in the four games in Pittsburgh alone, and Tommy Leach of the Pirates set an individual Series mark with four three-baggers. Boston ultimately won the fray, five games to three.
Twelve years later, the Boston club, known by then as the Red Sox, was again the beneficiary of another overflow-crowd ground rule in a World Series. Facing the Philadelphia Phillies in 1915, the Sox played to a sellout crowd in Philadelphia’s Baker Bowl on October 13, 1915, in what turned out to be the final game of the Series when Boston outfielder Harry Hooper homered in the top of the ninth to give his club a 5–4 win over future Hall of Famer Eppa Rixey. It was Hooper’s second home run of the contest and both were fly balls that bounced into temporary seats in right field that had been installed to accommodate the overflow crowds and declared, by mutual agreement, territory for a ground-ruled four-base hit. At the time, batted balls that ended up in the stands in fair territory, whether it be on the bounce or on the fly, were home runs.
Rule 4.05 (formerly Rule 3.13) is now all but an anachronism on the major-league level, since big-league teams no longer allow overflow crowds that infringe on the regular playing field, but there are still parks in which special ground rules apply.
4.06 No Fraternization
Players in uniform shall not address or mingle with spectators, nor sit in the stands before, during, or after a game. No manager, coach or player shall address any spectator before or during a game. Players of opposing teams shall not fraternize at any time while in uniform.
For a long time, it was left up to each individual team to monitor its own players when it came to fraternizing with opponents, but the early rule books clearly stated that players in uniform were not permitted to sit among spectators. They also forbade umpires, managers, captains, or players from addressing the crowd during a game, but added the stipulation “except in case of necessary explanation.” It was not unusual in the 1870s and 1880s for an umpire to stop play while he explained a ruling to the audience or for a team captain to appeal to spectators for help when an umpire’s decision did not go his way. Similarly, umpires in the early years on occasion would call upon members of the crowd for help on plays where their vision was blocked or they otherwise felt incapable of rendering a decision without impartial aid.
The fraternization rule, in no matter whose hands its enforcement is placed, has always been abused with near impunity. Anyone fortunate enough to go to a major-league game at a park where they still let fans in early enough to watch batting practice will see players and coaches on both teams mingling freely around the batting cage. Rules against players, coaches, and managers chatting during a game with opponents and even spectators have been likewise ignored. Prior to the 1883 season, the management of the Philadelphia Athletics team in the American Association handed down a list of club rules that included the following: “No member of the team while dressed in h
is uniform shall be permitted to flirt with or ‘mash’ any female or lady.” This edict had about as much chance of being obeyed as did another club rule that said: “While away from home every player must report at the hotel to the Manager before 11:30 p.m. and retire to his room for the night. No player shall lie abed after eight o’clock in the morning while on a trip unless he is sick or disabled.”
4.07 Security
(a) No person shall be allowed on the playing field during a game except players and coaches in uniform, managers, news photographers authorized by the home team, umpires, officers of the law in uniform and watchmen or other employees of the home club.
(b) The home team shall provide police protection sufficient to preserve order. If a person, or persons, enter the playing field during a game and interfere in any way with the play, the visiting team may refuse to play until the field is cleared.
PENALTY: If the field is not cleared in a reasonable length of time, which shall in no case be less than 15 minutes after the visiting team’s refusal to play, the umpire in-chief may forfeit the game to the visiting team.
The 2020 season marks the 46th anniversary of the last occasion when a visiting team won by forfeit after spectators invaded the field while a game was in progress and the home team was unable to stifle the havoc. To bolster sagging attendance in a city riddled by inflation and rampant unemployment, the Cleveland Indians designated their June 4, 1974, night contest with the Texas Rangers a special “10-Cent Beer Night.” The affair brought in a crowd of 25,134, but at a high cost when it proved to be perhaps the most embarrassingly inept promotional scheme in MLB history. Cleveland failed to added extra security for the contest, despite the fact that the same two clubs had brawled on the field in Arlington the week before. There is no record of the number of cups of beer that were sold—one estimate was between 60,000 and 65,000 10-ounce cups of Stroh’s—but it was definitely astronomical and, in any event, was instrumental in the sale of beer and other alcoholic beverages at major league parks eventually being halted after the seventh inning.
With the score tied, 5–5, in the bottom of the ninth and the winning Cleveland run perched on third base with two out, Tribe fans in various stages of inebriation poured out of the right-field stands and began tussling with Texas outfielder Jeff Burroughs. Burroughs fought back, but when more fans surrounded him, players from both teams rushed to his aid, some armed with bats. Order was eventually restored, but the peace was short-lived. After umpire Nestor Chylak suffered a lacerated hand when a fan threw a chair at him to start another melee, the game was forfeited to Texas. Nine fans were arrested after the incident; seven more were hospitalized and Texas manager Billy Martin summed up the evening, declaring, “That’s probably the closest we’ll come to seeing someone get killed in the game of baseball.”
Ironically, the Rangers franchise had also been involved in the last previous forfeit that was triggered by a crowd-related incident while a game was in progress. On September 30, 1971, the Rangers franchise was still based in the nation’s capital and about to conclude its last game as the Washington Senators, a night contest against the New York Yankees at RFK Stadium. The game meant nothing in the standings to Washington, which was buried deep in fifth place in the American League East Division, but New York stood at 81–80, needing a win to finish above .500.
Behind, 7–5 with two out in the top of the ninth, the Yankees were suddenly given an unexpected gift as Horace Clarke strolled to the plate to face Washington reliever Joe Grzenda. Outraged at owner Bob Short’s decision a few days earlier to move the club to the Dallas area, thus bringing an end to major-league baseball in a city that had had a team for the past seventy-one years, the bulk of the Washington crowd of 14,460 swarmed onto the field and began ripping up home plate, the bases, and the pitching rubber. Realizing the chances of completing the game were nil, the umpires had no choice but to award the Yankees a 9–0 forfeit victory, thereby assuring them of a winning season.
5.00: Playing the Game
5.01 Starting the Game (“Play Ball!”)
(a) At the time set for beginning the game the players of the home team shall take their defensive positions, the first batter of the visiting team shall take his position in the batter’s box, the umpire-in-chief shall call “Play,” and the game shall start.
Rule 5.01 (a) says, in effect, that the home team must bat last—but that has not always been the case. In fact, the opposite was true in 1877, when a new rule required the home club to take first raps. The National League reverted to the pre-1877 custom the following season, which called for the two captains to determine which club first took its turn at bat. The usual method was a coin flip, with the visitors accorded the honor of making the call and the winner of the flip then given the option of batting first or last.
In 1885, the American Association allowed the home captain to choose which club batted first, and the National League adopted the same policy in 1887, when the two circuits agreed to be governed by one rule book. It remained more an ingrained tradition than a rule that the home team would bat last until 1950, when Rule 4.02, an ancestor of Rule 5:01 (a), was added to the manual. By the early part of the twentieth century, having your last raps was viewed as an advantage. Previously, though, teams had often preferred to bat first, largely because it gave them first crack at the game ball, which often was the only new ball put into play that day.
In the very first World Series played to completion between two rival major leagues, the best-of-three 1884 matchup between the National League champion Providence Grays and the American Association champion New York Metropolitans, the Mets batted first in the opening game despite being the home club in all three matches. Six years later, in the last World Series between the two loops, the home side batted last in all seven contests, but there were still occasions in 1890 when the home boys elected to bat first. One came in a Players’ League contest on June 21 between the Chicago Pirates and the Brooklyn Ward’s Wonders, played at Chicago’s South Side Park. Chicago manager Charlie Comiskey opted to put his club up first and his decision deprived his pitcher that day, Silver King, of an opportunity to achieve the only no-hitter in Players’ League competition. The lone run of the game was tallied by Brooklyn’s George Van Haltren in the bottom of the seventh inning after he reached second base on a double error by Dell Darling, a catcher filling in that afternoon at shortstop. Because Brooklyn did not have to bat in the ninth after Chicago sealed the 1–0 verdict by going scoreless in the top of the frame, King did not work the necessary nine innings that a pitcher as per present rules must do to gain credit for a no-hitter even though he was credited with a complete game.
5.02 Fielding Positions
When the ball is put in play at the start of, or during a game, all fielders other than the catcher shall be on fair territory.
(a) The catcher shall station himself directly back of the plate. He may leave his position at any time to catch a pitch or make a play except that when the batter is being given an intentional base on balls, the catcher must stand with both feet within the lines of the catcher’s box until the ball leaves the pitcher’s hand.
PENALTY: Balk.
Note that the rule regarding a catcher’s positioning when an intentional walk is being issued no longer applied as of 2017—at least not while experimentation with intentional walks being issued simply by a manager or his surrogate signaling for one is underway in one of the multitude of endeavors to shorten the time it presently takes to play an average major-league game. This rule change, which by now appears to be permanent, is regarded by many pundits as an unfortunate one. Requiring a catcher to remain within the confines of the catcher’s box until the ball leaves the pitcher’s hand makes issuing an intentional walk more of a challenge.
Until a half century or so ago, there were frequent occasions when a batter would spoil an intentional walk attempt. In the heat of the 1948 AL pennant race, Cleveland Indians player-manager Lou Boudreau foiled an effort to purposely pa
ss him by throwing his bat at a wide pitch and sailing the ball into right field for a single. Don Mueller, known as “Mandrake the Magician” because of his dexterity with a bat, also is well remembered by New York Giants fans during the 1950s for thwarting efforts to walk him. Boudreau’s and Mueller’s legerdemain was a rarity only in that it was successful. Batters in the pre-expansion era commonly fought against accepting intentional walks and were ready to lash out if a pitcher slipped and delivered a ball close enough to the plate that it could be ripped.
Prior to the rule change, in recent years either pitchers had become more skilled or batters less audacious. Wild pitches and passed balls still occurred during an attempt to walk a batter intentionally, but ploys like Boudreau’s and Mueller’s were almost extinct. An extreme rarity occurred on June 22, 2006, at Camden Yards when Florida’s Miguel Cabrera spoiled an attempt to intentionally walk him by lacing Orioles reliever Todd Williams’s lazy looping first pitch up the middle for a single to bring home the go-ahead run in the 10th inning of the Marlins’ 8–5 win.
Lost now as well to fans are situations in which a catcher rose to pretend an intentional walk was imminent on a 3-and-2 count against a heavy hitter and his pitcher then fired a third strike right down the pipe, to the batter’s astonishment. Perhaps the most memorable example came in Game Three of the 1972 World Series at Oakland on October 18. With Cincinnati batting with two men on base in the top of the eighth inning and a 3-and-2 count on Johnny Bench, the Reds’ hard-hitting catcher, after first visiting the mound for a conference with his battery men, Athletics manager Dick Williams quietly returned to the dugout. Back behind the plate, catcher Gene Tenace rose and held out his throwing hand, seemingly following Williams’s order given while he was visiting the mound to walk Bench intentionally as reliever Rollie Fingers came to the set position. But then, as per the prearranged plan, Fingers brought A’s fans to their feet when he shocked Bench by throwing a slider for strike three. The Reds nonetheless won the game, 1–0.