by David Nemec
Until the early part of the twentieth century, a ball hit out of the park was not necessarily a home run—even if that was the batter’s desire. What could prevent it? A blocked ball, which was defined as “a batted or thrown ball that is touched stopped, or handled by any person not engaged in the game. Whenever a Block occurs, the umpire shall declare it and the base runners may run the bases without being put out until the ball is returned to and held by the pitcher standing in his position.”
Here is a blocked-ball home run from the 1890s that would never be more than a ground-rule double in every major league park today. On June 18, 1895, in a game at Brooklyn’s Eastern Park, pitcher Gus Weyhing of the visiting Louisville Colonels looped a ball to right field that landed fair and then bounced foul into the right-field pavilion. The ball was hastily thrown back onto the field by a fan to Brooklyn right fielder George Treadway, who relayed the ball to first baseman Candy LaChance. LaChance then gunned it to catcher John Grim in time to catch Weyhing at the plate trying for an inside-the-park home run. Umpire Tim Keefe, the former Giants pitching great, called Weyhing safe, however, as per then Rule 35 that any blocked ball—one leaving the field of play and handled by someone other than a player—must be returned to and held by the pitcher, in this case Ed Stein, before it could be put back into play. Note that the fan in this case was not necessarily a Brooklyn rooter trying to assist his team; he was only doing what every law-abiding spectator did at that time: returning a ball.
Meanwhile, at Cincinnati’s League Park II in the 1890s, the ground rules were a bit different. A ball making it into the center-field bleachers was an automatic home run, but a ball that landed in the left- or right-field bleachers (which often were nearly empty) was fair game for any outfielder fleet enough to climb into them, retrieve the ball, and heave it toward the pitcher to perhaps hold the batter to only a double or triple. Rather than rely on an umpire’s judgment as to what section of the bleachers their balls landed in, savvy batsmen in the Reds’ park ran all out from the moment they left the batter’s box.
That was the way the game was played then.
5.05 (a) (6)
A fair ball, after touching the ground, bounds into the stands, or passes through, over or under a fence, or through or under a scoreboard, or through or under shrubbery, or vines on the fence, in which case the batter and the runners shall be entitled to advance two bases;
Until 1930 in the American League, a batted ball that got under, through, or over an outfield fence in fair territory in any manner whatsoever was a home run. The first pinch-hit grand slam homer in American League history by Cleveland’s Marty Kavanagh on September 24, 1916, reportedly squirted through a hole in the fence at Cleveland’s League Park. That same season, on May 6, second baseman George Cutshaw beat the Philadelphia Phillies and Erskine Mayer with a home run that mysteriously scaled the fence at Ebbets Field. With the score knotted, 2–2, in the bottom of the 11th, Cutshaw smacked a liner to right field that skipped to the fence. As Phillies right fielder Gavvy Cravath prepared to take the ball on the carom, Cutshaw’s hit struck an embankment in front of the fence that gave it a weird spin. Instead of ricocheting off the fence, the ball began to climb it. Reaching the top of the barrier, the ball teetered there for an instant, and then toppled into the stands. Apart from his fluke homer, Cutshaw hit only one other four-bagger in 1916.
After the 1930 season, the National League imposed the same rule the AL had originated that year. Beginning in 1931 in both major leagues, all batted balls that stuck in or bounced through or over an outfield fence were ground-rule doubles unless the special ground rules of a park stated otherwise. In Brooklyn’s Ebbets Field, a batted ball that went through the wire on the right-field fence was a home run, as was a ball that stuck in the wire if a fielder could not dig it out in time to keep a batter from circling the bases. Pee Wee Reese hit a famous home run in the sixth inning off Robin Roberts that lodged on a ledge in the right-field screen sector at Ebbets Field in the final game of the 1950 season on October 1 to tie the Dodgers with the Philadelphia Phillies at 1–1 and set up Dick Sisler’s dramatic three-run homer in the 10th inning that brought the Phils their first flag since 1915.
5.05 (a) (8)
Any bounding fair ball is deflected by the fielder into the stands, or over or under a fence on fair or foul territory, in which case the batter and all runners shall be entitled to advance two bases;
If put to a guess, most fans will venture that this contingency has been a rule ever since the first professional League, the National Association, formed in 1871. Actually not. On July 26, 1889, in a National League game at Pittsburgh’s Recreation Park, Cleveland Blues first baseman Jay Faatz’s hot shot down the third-base line struck Alleghenys third sacker Deacon White on the foot and caromed under a row of seats adjacent to third base, giving him time to circle the bases for a historic three-run homer that never reached the outfield. Why was it a home run? Because the rule at that time required fielders to go into the stands, under benches, through accidently left open gates or wherever to retrieve overthrows or batted balls misdirected out of the field of play to prevent a batter or baserunner from touching them all.
Jay Faatz, a rare first baseman in his day who made his rep on stealing bases and getting hit by pitches.
5.05 (a) (9)
Any fair fly ball is deflected by the fielder into the stands, or over the fence into foul territory, in which case the batter shall be entitled to advance to second base; but if deflected into the stands or over the fence in fair territory, the batter shall be entitled to a home run. However, should such a fair fly be deflected at a point less than 250 feet from home plate, the batter shall be entitled to two bases only.
When Jose Canseco’s skull got an assist on the homer Cleveland’s Carlos Martinez hit off Kenny Rogers on May 26, 1993, at Cleveland Stadium, the Texas Rangers outfielder became perhaps the most celebrated player to be beaned by a long fly that evolved into a four-bagger. But many gardeners have suffered the ignominy of seeing a ball they mishandled disappear over the fence for a circuit clout. There are several ways in which it can happen. The most straightforward development is something on the order of what Western Carolina League fans saw on June 7, 1961, in a night game between Belmont and Newton-Conover. Belmont right fielder Eddie Montellanico tracked a towering fly ball hit by Newton-Conover player-manager Joe Abernathy back to the fence when he suddenly lost it in the lights. The ball struck Montellanico on top of the head, knocking him unconscious, and caromed over the fence for Abernathy’s only home run of the season.
In his days as an outfielder, Jose Canseco was nearly kayoed by a ball that bounced off his head into the stands for a home run. But he was virtually the only player or former player that talked sensibly in the 2005 Congressional Hearing on steroids.
More controversial is the type of four-bagger that helped Denver’s Bill Pinckard win the Western League home run crown and his Bears the loop flag in 1952. Facing Omaha in a scoreless pitcher’s duel on August 9 at Denver, Pinckard socked a drive to deep left field. Omaha left fielder Dick Cordell leaped high for the ball as he crashed into the fence, but Pinckard’s blow ticked his glove and hit the fence, then came back to clip Cordell in the forehead and ricochet over the retaining barrier. After a long argument with the managers of both teams, the umpires awarded Pinckard a home run. Cordell’s testimony must have been ignored, for if Omaha could have established that the ball struck the fence before it caromed off Cordell’s head and then went over the fence, the hit properly should have been called a ground-rule double because it became a bounding ball the instant it hit the fence rather than a ball in flight. In any case, Pinckard’s homer proved to be the game’s only run and enabled the Bears’ Barney Schultz to win a 1–0 verdict over Omaha’s Gary Blaylock.
When the Western League season ended a few weeks later, it developed that Pinckard’s disputed round-tripper had spelled the difference in the pennant race. Had Omaha won the game, Denver, Omaha, and C
olorado Springs would have all tied for the flag with identical marks of 87–67.
Note that no mention is made in this rule about what happens when a batted ball that will clearly be a home run is short-circuited because it hits an object that is not a regular part of the playing field, say the roof of a domed stadium. In such an instance the number of bases awarded, if any, depends on the park ground rules.
No one has ever struck a low-flying plane in a major league game, but with two on and no one out in the top of the first inning, Mike Schmidt hit a blast off Astros starter Claude Osteen on June 10, 1974, that smacked into the public-address system hanging from Houston’s Astrodome roof 326 feet from home plate and 117 feet above the playing field. Left unimpeded, Schmidt’s shot would probably have traveled around 450 feet. In any event, it would have been a home run in every other park in the country. But according to Astrodome ground rules, the ball remained in play, and Schmidt had to settle for a single while the runners ahead of him, Dave Cash and Larry Bowa, moved up only one base.
In contrast, Larry Walker of the Expos hit a lazy fly ball on May 5, 1992, that struck one of the loudspeakers hanging 150 feet above the field at Montreal’s Olympic Stadium. Even though the ball was descending when it hit the speaker and would likely have been an out, the existing ground rule in the Expos’ park forced umpire Terry Tata to call it a home run. “It’s the easiest out turned into a home run that I’ve ever had,” Walker said after the game. “I like that ground rule.”
5.04 (b)
The batter becomes a runner and is entitled to first base without liability to be put out (provided he advances to and touches first base) when:
(1) Four “balls” have been called by the umpire;
Observe that a comment accompanies this rule. It implies that a batter must proceed directly to first base after the fourth called ball. There have been numerous instances in amateur games when a batter has been called out for detouring on his way to first to deposit his helmet or batting gloves on his team’s bench and even some in major-league games. The rule’s inception was sparked by an instance that occurred in an 1891 American Association game at Columbus on August 2, when Baltimore outfielder George Van Haltren walked with the bases loaded in the bottom of the 10th to give the Orioles an apparent 3–2 victory, but controversy flared when Van Haltren followed his “walk-off” walk by heading toward the Baltimore bench rather than first base. At that point, Columbus manager Gus Schmelz shouted for umpire Jumbo Davis to declare Van Haltren out. Davis demurred, as did AA president Louis Kramer the following day when Schmelz protested the game, but Van Haltren’s near blunder made it incumbent for future arbiters to declare a batter out if he detoured on his way to first base or neglected entirely to touch it.
5.05 (b) (2)
He is touched by a pitched ball which he is not attempting to hit unless (A) The ball is in the strike zone when it touches the batter, or (B) The batter makes no attempt to avoid being touched by the ball;
If the ball is in the strike zone when it touches the batter, it shall be called a strike, whether or not the batter tries to avoid the ball. If the ball is outside the strike zone when it touches the batter, it shall be called a ball if he makes no attempt to avoid being touched.
APPROVED RULING: When the batter is touched by a pitched ball which does not entitle him to first base, the ball is dead and no runner may advance.
Since players nowadays wear all manner of jewelry, in 2019 the following overdue codicil was added to Rule 5.02 (b) (2): Comment: A batter shall not be considered touched by a pitched ball if the ball only touches any jewelry being worn by a player (e.g., necklaces, bracelets, etc.).
As Alexander Cartwright made no mention in his playing rules of bases on balls, he also made no provisions for a batter who was hit by a pitch. The notion of awarding a batter his base for being hit by a pitch was not universally embraced by the rules until the game was nearly half a century old. As late as 1886, a full decade after the National League was founded, the senior league still refused to penalize pitchers—like Charley Radbourn and John Clarkson—for throwing at enemy hitters to intimidate them.
As a consequence of the National League’s sluggishness in addressing the hit batsman problem, situations like the following one often arose to confound umpires. In a game on July 29, 1884, between the Chicago White Stockings and Detroit Wolverines, with Stump Weidman of Detroit on first, rookie Wolves backstop Chief Zimmer was struck in the arm by a pitch as he flailed at it and missed. The ball then caromed off Zimmer and skipped past Silver Flint, the Chicago catcher, allowing Weidman to move to second base. Cap Anson, the White Stockings’ first baseman-manager, heatedly protested that the ball should be ruled dead and Weidman made to return to first.
The lone umpire working the game, Stewart Decker, then had to decide whether to call the pitch a strike or to rule it no pitch and a dead ball. Rule 30 in 1884 defined a ball “striking the batsman’s person while standing in his position, and without it being struck at” as a dead ball. Decker, feeling that the rule supported Anson’s argument, sent Weidman back to first and deemed the delivery to Zimmer no pitch.
Detroit manager Jack Chapman contended in vain that Zimmer’s act of swinging at the pitch precluded it being called a dead ball and that Zimmer should have been assessed a strike and Weidman allowed to advance. League officials later realized, however, that both Anson and Chapman had an equally valid argument and also foresaw that if Decker had sided with Chapman, as he well could have, there was nothing in the rules to deter a batter from deliberately allowing a pitch to hit him as he swung in the hope of providing runners with an opportunity to move up a base. Actually, in the pre-National Association era, for a long time the ball was not dead when it hit a batter. Shortstop Candy Nelson would even let a ball hit him in the head to gain a base for a runner.
But for all their recognition that a more comprehensive rule covering hit batsmen was long overdue, National League moguls still tarried for another two years before finally joining the American Association prior to the 1887 season, when both major leagues adopted a uniform rule book, in decreeing that a batter hit by a pitched ball was entitled to first base provided he had not first swung at the ball, in which case it was automatically dead.
Meanwhile, the American Association had adopted the hit batsman rule in 1884, largely to combat the tactics of two of its pitchers—Will White and John Schappert, both of whom were notorious for deliberately trying to plunk batters. Schappert was looked upon as so dangerous an intimidator that, after the 1882 season, other AA moguls persuaded St. Louis owner Chris von der Ahe not to renew his contract with the Browns. Released by St. Louis, Schappert hooked on with Harrisburg of the Interstate League in 1883. The campaign was barely a month old before his welcome was nearly worn out in that circuit, too. In the June 10, 1883, edition of Sporting Life, Schappert was accused of the “cowardly habit . . . in maliciously crippling men at the bat. . . The manager of the Columbus club, defeated by the Harrisburg team last week, attributed the defeat to Schappert’s action, the Ohio men being afraid to stand up at the plate.” White, meanwhile, saw his effectiveness decline sharply in 1884 after the hit batsman rule was implemented.
Before the hit batsman rule was adopted, an umpire had only one tool at his disposal to stop a potential beanball war if a pitcher like Schappert or White was working the points. In 1879, the National League authorized its arbiters to fine hurlers for deliberately hitting batters with pitches, the levy ranging from $10 to $50. Even a $10 fine could be painful in that era, since many players made less than $1,000 for the season. But umpires were reluctant to make pitchers dig into their pockets unless the offense was too brazen to pass unpunished. Part of the reason was because an umpire in the late 1870s could not afford to alienate a team if he wanted to keep his job. Umpires had to be approved by clubs in order to receive assignments to work games, and one of the surest ways to be denied approval was to anger a team’s pitching ace by socking him in the pocket.
Even after National League umpires were first made salaried employees of the leagues in 1883, fines for hitting batters were few and far between. What usually deterred pitchers from throwing at rival batters was the fear of becoming clay pigeons themselves when they batted. Not only were pitchers required to hit in 1883, but many also played other positions on days when they were not in the box. Though the schedule that season called for just 98 games, Charley Radbourn collected 381 times at bat and another Hall of Fame twirler, Jim Galvin, took 322 official turns at the plate.
Since the National League batters who were hit by a pitch were not given their base until 1887, we must wonder now if Lee Richmond’s perfect game on June 12, 1880, the first of its kind in big league history, was really a perfecto by today’s rules. It is entirely possible, and even likely, that Richmond hit at least one Cleveland batter in the course of shutting down the Blues, 1–0.
Roger Bresnahan was credited with many accomplishments in his career but never with catching a perfect game thanks (he later swore) to the plate umpire muffing a called third strike with two out in the ninth inning in Hooks Wiltse’s 1908 near perfecto.
It is also likely that without the hit batsman rule, Hooks Wiltse of the New York Giants would have logged a perfect game on July 4, 1908. Facing the Philadelphia Phillies that day with two out in the ninth of a 0–0 game, Wiltse got two quick strikes on his mound opponent, George McQuillan. One strike away from a perfecto, Wiltse then blazed a pitch that McQuillan took for what both Wiltse and his catcher Roger Bresnahan were certain would be called a third strike. But plate umpire Cy Rigler granted the Phillies pitcher a reprieve when he ruled it a ball. Disconcerted, Wiltse then hit McQuillan with his next delivery to give the Phils their first baserunner.