The Official Rules of Baseball Illustrated

by David Nemec

  Mogridge got Merwin Jacobson to hit a weak pop to the mound, and up came rookie first sacker Babe Herman with one out. Getting a pitch he liked, Herman belted a towering fly to deep right. DeBerry properly tagged at third base even though it seemed likely the ball would fall safely. Vance, at second, also held up, fearing it would be caught. Meanwhile, Fewster traveled nearly to second and waited on developments. Certain that the ball was out of right fielder Jimmy Welsh’s reach, Herman put his head down as soon as he left the plate and ran at top speed.

  The ball bounced off the fence, allowing DeBerry to score easily. But Vance, who had loitered near second until the ball dropped, was convinced after he rounded third that he would be a dead duck if he tried to score, and retreated to the bag . . . at the same time Fewster was reaching third. Seeing Vance returning there, Fewster headed back to second. But before he could get more than a few yards from third, Herman, who had run the whole way with his head down, roared past him and slid into the bag. Dumbfounded, Fewster decided that he too might as well add to the logjam at third. For a few seconds, Brooklyn had three runners on the same base.

  Only Vance rightfully belonged there, and he was not about to budge. After getting the relay throw from catcher Oscar Siemer, Boston third sacker Eddie Taylor had no idea who belonged where, but he knew he had someone dead to rights. First he tagged Vance and then he slapped the ball on Herman, upon whom it was just dawning that he might not have hit a base-clearing triple. In fact, Taylor’s tag was unnecessary; Herman was automatically out the moment he passed Fewster between second and third, though he would be credited with a double on the play.

  Fewster, the lone Brooklyn runner who had done his job correctly thus far, set sail for second when he saw the clutter at third. Taylor rifled the ball to second baseman Doc Gautreau. Realizing he could not beat the throw, Fewster left the basepath and veered into the outfield with Gautreau on his tail. After the tag was made on Fewster, the three umpires working the game, Beans Reardon, Charlie Moran, and Ernie Quigley, huddled and quickly came forth with the verdict that it was a twin killing, ending the inning. Herman thus had doubled into a double play. Almost lost in the turmoil was the fact that DeBerry had scored on the two-bagger, putting Brooklyn up, 2–1. When the Dodgers won, 4–1, Herman’s blow became the game-winning hit, but that will never be how it is remembered.

  An interesting footnote to the Herman faux pas: Not until 1907 did it become a rule that a baserunner was immediately out if he passed a teammate on the basepaths. If the three-men-on-third incident had occurred before then, the Dodgers could have emerged successfully had Fewster somehow managed to scramble back safely to second base and Herman all the way to first.

  Meanwhile, the decision as to who gets the putout on a play like the one in which Herman passed Fewster can flummox even members of baseball’s inner circle. As an example, in the fourth inning of Game Three of the 1992 World Series, the Atlanta Braves had Terry Pendleton on first and Deion Sanders on second with no outs and David Justice at the plate. Justice walloped a pitch from Toronto Blue Jays right-hander Jose Guzman to deep center field, but Devon White made a sensational catch against the 400-foot marker.

  Certain it would be an extra-base hit, Pendleton had rounded second base and passed Sanders. Not realizing the umpires had already called Pendleton out, the Blue Jays relayed the ball to first baseman John Olerud. Amid the chaos, Sanders headed for third base but was eventually chased back to second by Kelly Gruber, who narrowly missed tagging him out for what would have been the first World Series triple play since 1920.

  When the dust had settled, TV announcer Sean McDonough informed the viewing audience: “If you’re scoring, it’s 8-4-3 as they doubled up Pendleton.”

  McDonough was wrong; Pendleton was out the moment he passed Sanders. The throws from White to Blue Jays second baseman Roberto Alomar to Olerud were superfluous. Pendleton’s putout properly went to Toronto shortstop Manny Lee, the closest Blue Jay to Pendleton when he passed Sanders, and there was no assist on the play. But McDonough was not alone in his mistake. The morning after the game, several newspapers gave White an assist in their box scores and failed to credit Lee with the putout.

  5.06 (b) Advancing Bases

  5.06 (b) (4) Each runner including the batter-runner may, without liability to be put out, advance:

  (A) To home base, scoring a run, if a fair ball goes out of the playing field in flight and he touched all bases legally; or if a fair ball which, in the umpire’s judgment, would have gone out of the playing field in flight, is deflected by the act of a fielder in throwing his glove, cap, or any article of his apparel;

  (B) Three bases, if a fielder deliberately touches a fair ball with his cap, mask or any part of his uniform detached from its proper place on his person. The ball is in play and the batter may advance to home base at his peril;

  (C) Three bases, if a fielder deliberately throws his glove at and touches a fair ball. The ball is in play and the batter may advance to home base at his peril;

  (D) Two bases, if a fielder deliberately touches a thrown ball with his cap, mask or any part of his uniform detached from its proper place on his person. The ball is in play;

  (E) Two bases, if a fielder deliberately throws his glove at and touches a thrown ball. The ball is in play;

  Rule 5.06 (b) (4) (B) through (E) Comment: In applying (B-C-D-E)the umpire must rule that the thrown glove or detached cap or mask has touched the ball. There is no penalty if the ball is not touched.

  The history of Rule 5.06 (b) (4) and its many contingencies needs considerable additional research. Fielders in the pre-National Association era (1871–75) on occasion caught balls in their caps; some threw their caps at balls they could not reach. The 1873 season marked the first appearance of a rule that specifically addressed this misdeed. One base was awarded if a fielder stopped a ball with his hat or cap instead of a part of his body. No mention was made of a thrown glove, as the only gloves worn in the 1870s were catchers’ protective shields that could not readily be peeled off or detached from the hand.

  Beginning with the inception of the National League in 1876, baserunners were awarded two bases if a fielder used his cap or any other part of his attire to interfere with a batted ball. Still no mention was made in the rules of gloves until 1910, when it was decreed that if a fielder stopped or caught a batted ball with his cap, glove, or any part of his uniform, while it was detached from its proper place on his person, the batter and any base runners were entitled to three bases. In 1914, the rule was restructured to make the penalty three bases for a batted ball and two for a thrown ball. The three-base levy was imposed because most violations came when outfielders, despairing of reaching balls hit over their heads or in the gap, flung their gloves in the hope of knocking them down. Since these hits were almost certain doubles anyway, it was well worth a two-base penalty to throw a glove at them, if only to corral those that would otherwise go for triples or even inside-the-park home runs.

  There is surprisingly little documentation as to what went on between the mid-1880s, when most players started using gloves, and 1910. With nothing in the rules to prevent it, one can imagine that fielders were quick to heave their gloves at balls they could not reach. However, if that had been done with any frequency, seemingly a preventive measure would have been drafted long before 1910.

  Yet we know there were players who took advantage of the absence of a rule, just as players will always take advantage whenever they see an opening. In the mid-1890s, Baltimore Orioles groundskeeper Tom Murphy purportedly was instructed to let the outfield grass grow long in Orioles Park so that balls could be secreted in it. Rather than give chase when an opponent hit a gapper, Joe Kelley, Willie Keeler, Steve Brodie, and other Orioles outfielders would scoop up one of the hidden balls and fire it into second base, nailing the shocked runner who had been positive he had a stand-up double. Did Kelley, Keeler, and Brodie resort to tossing their gloves at hits they could not flag down in enemy parks, where
the grass did not provide them with a better option? In all likelihood they did, but the proof of it has failed to survive. Observe that the word purportedly prefaces the description of this ploy, for it would seem that opposing outfielders would also have taken notice of the concealed balls and made an issue of them, thereby nipping the Orioles’ tomfoolery in the bud.

  Before we return to the manual, note that Rule 5.06 (b) (4) omits mention of any penalty if a fielder throws his glove at and touches a foul ball. This omission might seem insignificant. Why would a fielder hurl his glove at a ball that was going foul anyway? It has been done, however, and for good reason.

  In the sixth inning of a game with the St. Louis Browns on July 27, 1947, Boston Red Sox first baseman Jake Jones topped a ball that slowly trickled outside the third base line toward St. Louis third sacker Bob Dillinger. Although the dribbler was foul, Browns pitcher Fred Sanford, realizing it might roll fair and Dillinger would be unable to throw Jones out, fired his glove at the ball and hit it. Umpire Cal Hubbard promptly awarded Jones a triple.

  In 1954, the rule was changed to apply only to fair balls, making it possible now for a pitcher or an infielder to do as Sanford did with impunity as long as the ball—in the umpire’s judgment—is clearly going to remain foul.

  The crucial thing to remember in Rule 5.06 (b) (4) is that the ball, whether fair or foul, has to be touched by the glove or apparel thrown for a crime to have occurred. The act of throwing it will not, in and of itself, be cause for a penalty but nonetheless can be one for embarrassment, as Texas Rangers shortstop Elvis Andrus learned in a game against the Angels on July 25, 2015. Even though the Rangers came away with a 7–6 victory, Rangers manager Jeff Banister was steamed afterward. “It was a lapse of mental consciousness . . . not really understanding the three-base rule if you clip the ball. That’s the second time I have seen it, and both times the guy didn’t know the three-base rule.”

  Fred Sanford is remembered today mostly for throwing his glove at a foul ball to assure it stayed foul but was so highly coveted by the Yankees after he lost 21 games for the Browns in 1948 that they gave up three players, including future All-Star catcher Sherm Lollar and $100,000 for him. He finished his ML stay three years later with a 37–55 career record and a 4.55 ERA.

  While throwing a glove to knock a ball foul or keep it from rolling fair is explicitly covered in the rules, another form of obstruction is not—at least not explicitly. On May 27, 1981, in a game between Kansas City and Seattle at the Kingdome, Royals center fielder Amos Otis tapped a slow roller down the third-base line in the sixth inning. Mariners third baseman Lenny Randle dropped to his hands and knees and successfully blew the ball foul. The umpiring crew ruled it a foul ball until Royals skipper Jim Frey threatened to protest the game. They then changed their call to fair, crediting Otis with a single and Randle with illegal obstruction because he had altered the course of the ball even though he never touched it. The next batter, George Brett, was retired, ending the top half of the sixth. The play had no impact on the game—the Royals won, 7–4. But the jury is still out on whether their protest would have been upheld if the umpires had not backed down and the Mariners had won. The incident is so well known among veteran umpires, however, that the ruling today would almost certainly be the same.

  5.06 Dead Balls

  The Dead Ball rules have not been altered in some while, but in 2019 this addendum to the comment following Rule 5.06 (c) (7) first appeared in the rule book in paragraph four.

  If a ball is intentionally placed inside a player’s uniform (e.g., a pants pocket) for the purpose of deceiving a base runner, the umpire shall call “Time.” The umpire will place all runners at least one base (or more if warranted, in the umpire’s judgment, in order to nullify the action of the ball being put out of play), from the base they originally occupied.

  Previously, infielders—particularly left-handed first basemen—would fake a return throw to the pitcher after a failed pickoff attempt and slip the ball instead into a back pocket momentarily before surreptitiously removing it after showing the runner an empty left hand. Granting all runners a base in this situation appears to be another effort to abort a delay in play. Unhappily, the hidden ball trick itself may soon become a thing of the past. Bill Deane, the authority on HBTs, points out there has only been one since 2013. For the HBT to work, the fielder with the ball must alert an umpire it’s in his possession while the pitcher paws the ground or engages in some such act aimlessly, all of which takes time, and saving time now is of the essence. How much time is saved here is highly debatable since an umpire has to stop play to make his call and the stoppage remains in effect until all runners have moved up one base or more.

  5.07 Pitching

  (a) Legal Pitching Delivery

  There are two legal pitching positions, the Windup Position and the Set Position, and either position may be used at any time.

  The legal pitching position in 1845 bore little similarity to what it is in 2020. Alexander Cartwright’s rules called for a pitcher to stand on a line four yards long, 45 feet from home plate, and drawn at right angles to a line from home plate to second base.

  In 1863, the pitching restriction became two lines instead of one, with the front line 45 feet from the plate and the back line 48 feet distant, forming an imaginary 12 x 3 foot box. At the moment he released the ball, a pitcher had to have both feet within the box’s boundaries. The rear line of the box was moved back one foot in 1866. A year later, the length of both the back and front lines was shrunk to six feet, but the pitcher’s station did not evolve into an actual rectangular box until 1874, with the box’s dimensions constricted to 6 x 4. In 1879, the box’s dimensions were changed to 4 x 6. Two years later, the front line of the box was moved back to 50 feet, but the box’s size remained the same until 1886 when it was made 7 x 4. In 1887, the length was reduced to five and a half feet, although the width went unchanged.

  In addition to having to learn to pitch from inside a box whose dimensions were constantly changing, a pitcher prior to 1893 faced several other restrictions. Most importantly, he had to alter his style of delivery frequently in order to keep pace with the rapidly changing rules. Until 1872, a hurler was required to deliver the ball with a straight arm swinging parallel to the body or in much the same manner as the delivery of a slow-pitch softball pitcher. In 1872, pitchers for the first time were permitted to deliver the ball with their elbows bent, enabling them to snap their wrists and, thus, throw curveballs as long as they kept their pitching hands below their hips at the point of release. The rule was modified in 1878, requiring pitchers to keep their hands below their waists. A year later, it was decreed that a pitcher had to face the batter when he took his position to deliver the ball, thereupon making it easier for an umpire—as well as a batter—to observe the release point, but this rule was often ignored depending on the umpire.

  The 1883 season marked the next attempt to simplify an umpire’s task, as pitchers now could hurl the ball from any angle or height below their shoulders. But when this modification still proved too difficult for arbiters to monitor, the National League threw up its hands in 1884 and allowed overhand pitching for the first time.

  Spalding’s Baseball Guide for the 1884 season commented: “The League simply allows what experience has taught them they could not effectively prevent.” The surrender to exponents of overhand pitching was a concession that many observers feared would reduce the offensive quotient of the game to near zero. That dire prediction did not prove to be the case, but hitters suffered enough in the 1884 season to cause the National League to restore the ban on overhand pitching the following spring. The prohibition once again was so hard to enforce, though, that a month into the 1885 season the NL reverted to the previous year’s rule. Within days, the American Association and the other professional circuits also grudgingly lifted all restrictions on the height from which a pitcher could deliver the ball.

  But even though overhand pitching was now universally
legal, Will White, Tim Keefe, and many more of the game’s leading hurlers continued to throw with an underhand wrist snap, both because they felt it saved wear and tear on their arms and because they were too far along in their careers to change. By the early 1890s, overhand pitching became the norm as young phenoms such as Amos Rusie, Kid Nichols, and Cy Young appeared on the big-league scene. All were adolescents in 1885 when the overhand delivery was first legalized permanently, still in the formative stages of learning their craft, and so were quickly able to adapt when the last restriction was lifted on the style a pitcher could employ to deliver the ball to a batter.

  Prior to 1887, which some authorities consider the true beginning of the so-called modern era, pitchers were free to assume any position they wanted before beginning their delivery. Even after the rule was tightened in 1878 so that the pitcher at least had to face the batter, pitchers were still permitted to utilize a running start, which might also include a series of hops, skips and, as in the case of “Jumping” Jack Jones, even a leap into the air before releasing the ball. Also prior to 1887, disputes as to whether pitchers exceeded the boundaries were rampant, but with only one arbiter on the scene to detect violations, the argument almost always went against the offensive team.

  In July 1884, the Cincinnati Reds of the American Association, after complaining all season that Louisville’s Guy Hecker strode beyond the front line of the box repeatedly when he delivered the ball, finally laid a row of smooth stones in front of the pitcher’s box in Cincinnati’s American Park so that Hecker would slip on them if he finished his delivery outside it. In retaliation, the Louisville club, after grumbling to no avail that Cincinnati ace Will White stood out of bounds when he started his delivery, planted a wall of stones along the right side of the pitcher’s box in Eclipse Park.