by David Nemec
Lest anyone believe the Merkle “boner” is so infamous that it can never be repeated in a major-league game, there is good reason to believe it can. In a game at Philadelphia on August 3, 2016, the Phillies had the bases jammed with the score tied, 4–4, and one out in the bottom of the 12th when Maikel Franco, facing San Francisco reliever Jake Peavy, singled to right-center to drive home Tommy Joseph with the apparent walk-off winning run. Giants center fielder Denard Span let the ball go past him, knowing that Joseph had scored. But while jogging toward the dugout, he noticed that Phillies runner Aaron Altherr, who had been on first, never touched second base. Although Altherr initially started toward second after Franco’s hit, when he saw the ball make it to the outfield he peeled off to chase after Franco and congratulate him.
Seeing this, Span waved for right fielder Hunter Pence to retrieve the ball and get the force out on Altherr at second. Catcher Buster Posey, also observing the action, hastened to take Pence’s throw at second. After considerable confusion, the official scorer, Mike Maconi, took a base hit away from Franco and recorded that he had hit into a force play at second. The game had been riddled with video replay challenges, but Giants skipper Bruce Bochy did not challenge here. We can only surmise that Bochy and the umpiring crew had been watching closely enough to verify that Cesar Hernandez, the runner on second, had made it to third. Had they not verified it, a successful video replay appeal at third would have meant that instead of a walk-off single, Franco would have been credited with hitting into an inning-ending double play. As it was, he stood to be deprived of his first career game-winning hit until MLB overruled Maconi and awarded him a single.
Evidence that Merkle’s faux pas was already fading from memory came more than fifty years earlier on August 29, 1962, in a game at Dodger Stadium between the Dodgers and the Reds. In the bottom of the 13th inning, with the score deadlocked, 1–1, the Dodgers put runners on second and third with only one out. Duke Snider was then intentionally walked by Reds starter Joey Jay to load the bases and set up a possible double play, but catcher Johnny Roseboro spoiled it by looping a short fly to center that dropped in front of Vada Pinson. After Tommy Davis waltzed home from third to score the apparent winning run, Roseboro blundered by passing Snider—who hadn’t bothered to run—between first and second and was called out. Alarmed, Snider raced to second before the Reds realized what was occurring and barely avoided making the third out on a force play. Davis’s run at that point became official, handing the Dodgers a 2–1 win that could have been foiled if Cincinnati had been more alert.
Hall of Famer Duke Snider narrowly escaped committing the same base running blunder as Fred Merkle in a 1962 contest at Dodger Stadium.
5.08 (b)
When the winning run is scored in the last half-inning of a regulation game, or in the last half of an extra inning, as the result of a base on balls, hit batter or any other play with the bases full which forces the batter and all other runners to advance without liability of being put out, the umpire shall not declare the game ended until the runner forced to advance from third has touched home base and the batter-runner has touched first base.
Rule 5.08 (b) Comment: An exception will be if fans rush onto the field and physically prevent the runner from touching home plate or the batter from touching first base. In such cases, theumpires shall award the runner the base because of the obstruction by the fans.
Probably the most famous instance of an umpire awarding a runner home plate because of fan obstruction was the wild ending on October 14, 1976, to the American League Championship Series that saw George Brett of the Kansas City Royals rifle a three-run homer into the seats at Yankee Stadium in the top of the eighth to tie the game, 6–6, only to have Yankees first baseman Chris Chambliss lead off the bottom half of the ninth inning by belting a solo dinger off reliever Mark Littell to clinch the pennant for the Yankees. In describing the pandemonium that ensued when Yankees fans began streaming onto the field almost the moment Chambliss’s shot cleared the right-field barrier, Thurman Munson later said, “By the time Chambliss got to third base all hope of reaching the plate was gone. He never did make it.”
Though Kansas City made no protest and the umpires seemed inclined to let Chambliss’s interrupted journey around the bases pass without comment, hours later the Yankees’ first baseman left the team’s pennant celebration and crept out of the clubhouse, accompanied by two policemen, to touch home plate and make his flag-winning run official.
A similar play occurred on October 15 in Game Five of the 1999 NLCS, however, with a different result. With the bases loaded and the game tied, 3–3, in the bottom of the 15th inning, Mets third baseman Robin Ventura hammered a pitch from Atlanta reliever Kevin McGlinchy over the right-field fence in Shea Stadium for an apparent walk-off grand slam—the first such grand slam in postseason history. But Ventura was rightfully awarded only a single by the umpiring crew when he passed Todd Pratt, who had been on first base, when Pratt joined other teammates in mobbing Ventura before he could get to second base. Ventura’s blow is now known instead as the “Grand Slam Single.”
The honor of hitting the first walk-off postseason grand slam thus fell to Nelson Cruz of the Texas Rangers in Game Two of the 2011 ALCS at Rangers Ballpark in Arlington when his four-bagger off Detroit’s Ryan Perry in the 11th inning made for a 7–3 final score—ironically what the final score would have been if Ventura’s Mets teammates had allowed him to properly round the bases.
5.09 Making an Out
(a) Retiring the Batter
A batter is out when:
(1) His fair or foul fly ball (other than a foul tip) is legally caught by a fielder;
Some playground forms of baseball still consider a batter out if his batted ball is caught either on the fly or the first bounce. Remarkably, the first-bounce rule was once in effect in all forms of baseball. Until 1865, any batted ball that was caught on the first bounce, whether it be a grounder to an infielder, a line drive to outfielder, a foul tip by a catcher, or a one-hopper to a pitcher, was an out; exceptions were balls that were bobbled and then scooped up on one bounce after they hit the ground.
Champions of the one-bounce-out rule felt that it saved injuries to players’ hands, whereas its detractors contended that it not only made the game unmanly but there was nothing more frustrating to an admirer of good fielding than to see an outfielder nullify a hard-hit ball merely by stationing himself near enough to it to take it on the bound. When the proponents of a more “manly” game finally gained sway in 1865, however, the new rule in that year applied only to fair-hit balls. A foul ball snared on the first bounce remained an out as late as 1883 in the National League (after an experimental year in 1879 when it was not) and May of 1885 in the American Association. Upon the elimination of the first-bounce out on foul hits, Spalding’s Official Baseball Guide for 1884 offered this accolade to National League moguls: “The continuance of the foul-bound catch would have been simply the retaining of a feature of the early period of base ball, in order to gratify the crowd and to help ‘business,’ and not the game.”
A telling example of how heavily the foul-bounce-out rule could impact the outcome of a game occurred in an American Association contest between the New York Metropolitans and the Louisville Eclipse in Eclipse Park I on June 21, 1884. The AA, for reasons that are impossible to fathom now, had refused to follow the National League’s lead in 1884 when the senior loop permanently eliminated the foul-bounce out, but the finale of the Mets-Eclipse game inspired a belated reassessment. After Jack Lynch of the Mets battled Eclipse ace Guy Hecker to a 2–2 draw at the end of regulation, New York solved Hecker for two runs in the second extra frame, but Louisville roared back in the bottom of the 11th, filling the bases with two out. Louisville catcher Dan Sullivan then sent a foul drive down the right field line that the Mets’ Steve Brady speared on the first bounce to stifle the threat and end the game. Had Sullivan’s hit landed fair instead of foul without being caught on the fly, rather than b
ecoming the third out it would have resulted in at least a single, and in all likelihood would have sent home two runs and tied the game. What’s more, the ball was conceivably catchable on the fly, but Brady may have chosen the easy way to corral it rather than risk muffing it after a long run. This sort of absurdity goaded AA officials to abolish the foul-bounce rule early in the 1885 season.
5.09 (a) (2)
A third strike is legally caught by the catcher
As a batter could be retired if his fly ball was caught on the first bounce, so at one time could he be put out when a catcher caught his third strike on the first bounce. In 1858, a rule was first introduced to allow a batter to run on a missed third strike. Until 1880, though, a batter was considered out if the catcher snagged his third strike either on the fly or the first bounce. The rule was so liberal largely because catchers wore little protective apparel in the early days, compelling them to play well back of the batter. Mitts and masks were rudimentary, chest protectors were skimpy, and shin guards did not really come into popular use until the early 1900s. Beginning in 1880, catchers had to move up close behind batters when the count reached two strikes. Before then it had been customary for a receiver to move up only with men on base and otherwise to play back and take balls on the first bounce, including third strikes. In 1901, it became mandatory in the National League for a catcher to play within 10 feet of home plate at all times; the American League adopted the same rule the following year.
If a foul tip is caught on what would otherwise be a third strike, the batter of course is out. That has always been the case. But prior to 1889, every foul-tipped ball that was cleanly caught by a catcher—either in his mitt or barehanded—was an out regardless of the strike count. In 1889, the rule was altered so that any foul hit not rising above a batter’s head was deemed a foul tip and neither the batter nor any baserunners could be retired if it was caught. Moreover, it was just a foul ball, not even a strike. The rule was introduced to combat catchers such as Connie Mack and Wilbert Robinson, who were adept at making a clicking sound that imitated that of a foul tip closely enough to dupe umpires on what were otherwise merely swing-and-miss strikes.
5.09 (a) (4)
He bunts foul on third strike;
Rather remarkably, a foul bunt attempt was not universally deemed a strike until the 1894 campaign, and even then a batter was charged with a strike only if he bunted foul attempting to sacrifice. Heretofore, weak-hitting bat magicians such as Yank Robinson and Jack Crooks, as long as they were not too obvious about it, could tap pitches foul indefinitely without penalty until they finally drew a walk. Beginning in 1887, umpires were licensed to charge a batsman with a strike if they felt he was delaying the game by purposely fouling off pitches, but this rule was seldom invoked and often resulted in turmoil when an umpire did attempt to sanction an offender. An American Association game between St. Louis and Brooklyn on September 5, 1888, crumbled into mass confusion when umpire Fred Goldsmith, a star pitcher earlier in the decade with the Chicago White Stockings, instantly called a strike on Browns catcher Jack Boyle when he bunted a foul pop, deeming it a deliberate effort to hit foul, and then found himself obliged to void Brooklyn receiver Bob Clark’s diving catch of the popup owing to his previous call of strike.
In 1895, the rules committee decreed that every foul bunt attempt, regardless of its intent, was a strike. That season was also the first in which a foul tip became a strike but only if the catcher caught it within the 10-foot lines of the catcher’s box. Between the increased mound distance in 1893 and the impunity with which batters could foul off pitches at will—as long as the fouls were not palpable bunt attempts—it was small wonder that strikeout totals tumbled precipitously during the mid-1890s. In 1893, as an extreme example, the entire Louisville Colonels hill staff notched only 190 strikeouts in 114 games, and the New York Giants topped the National League with a mere 395 Ks, an average of about three and a half a game.
A prominent example of the impact the 1895 foul bunt rule change had on certain batters was Boston outfielder Hugh Duffy, who hit a record .440 in 1894. He was twenty-eight years old when the 1895 season commenced and was seemingly just coming into his prime. Nonetheless, his batting average plummeted 87 points in the season following his record-shattering year. In 1896, his average again dropped precipitously, all the way to an even .300, and although he rebounded in 1897 to hit .340, that season was his last that approached his peak years. Age, injury, lack of conditioning—none of the usual reasons accounted for his abrupt decline. Duffy had come to the majors a hunt-and-peck batter who deliberately poked pitches in the strike zone not to his liking foul in wait for exactly the one he wanted. In its April 14, 1900, issue, The Sporting News opined that the reason his batting had deteriorated so swiftly was the rule instituted in 1895 that assessed a strike on every failed bunt attempt. “As soon as the handicap was put on Duffy quit the bunting game and hit out, from which time his batting average grew beautifully smaller year after year.” The Chicago Times Herald added that players usually slipped first in the field or in baserunning while “in the case of the captain [Duffy was first named Boston captain in 1896, replacing Billy Nash] he is still a grand fielder but a losing batsman.”
We are obliged to observe that yet another MLB experiment now underway in lower leagues is giving a batter the equivalent of a fourth strike if he bunts foul on the third strike.
Presently, when a batter fouls off a two-strike bunt attempt it is almost always deemed strike three. But there are occasions when a batter squares to bunt and finds he has to dodge an inside pitch. If the batter yanks back the bat as he pulls away from the pitch, an umpire can rule it was not a bunt attempt even if the pitch touches the bat and rolls into foul territory; it is only a foul ball. Reds pitcher Michael Lorenzen benefitted enormously from such a ruling in a game against the Brewers at Great American Ball Park on August 29, 2018. With runners on first and second and no out in the bottom of the sixth, Lorenzen was nearly beaned after he squared to sacrifice with two strikes. The ball nonetheless struck his bat as he recoiled to escape being hit but was properly ruled foul, not strike three. On the next pitch, Lorenzen hit a three-run homer off Milwaukee’s Taylor Williams.
5.09 (a) (5)
An Infield Fly is declared;
Strangely enough, the first version of an infield fly rule was adopted by a major league that lasted only one year—the ill-fated Players’ League. Formed prior to the 1890 season, it also was the first circuit to employ two umpires in every game and move the front line of the pitcher’s box back to 51 feet, a foot farther than its competitors—the National League and the American Association—in an effort to produce more hitting and scoring. Though all of its rule innovations produced the desired results—more offense, less rowdyism, and higher attendance than its two rival loops—the Players’ League was outfoxed, largely by Chicago club president Al Spalding, and naively threw in the towel even while it had the two established circuits on the ropes. With its demise went all three of its newly devised rules.
The Players’ League infield fly rule stated that if a baserunner was on first base and there were less than two outs and the batsman made a fair hit so that the ball would fall within the infield and the ball touches any fielder, whether held by him or not before it touches the ground, the batsman was out.
The term infield fly did not, however, first appear in the rule book used by the National League and American Association (which had combined forces in 1892) until 1894, a half century after Alexander Cartwright and his cohorts devised the first formal set of playing rules. As in the Players’ League, it applied even if only first base was occupied. In 1895, it was modified to apply only if first and second base or all three bases were occupied with less than two out.
Prior to 1894, with the bases occupied, infielders (including pitchers and catchers) were free to drop infield pops or line drives on the gamble that they could then force out runners who had been frozen to their bases on the assumption the bal
l would be caught. Part of the reason it took so long for an infield fly rule to be adopted was that until the 1890s, when gloves became a fielding tool as well as a protective device, there was never assurance that a pop fly would be caught, let alone a line drive, and it seemed foolish for an umpire to call a batter automatically out and then sheepishly watch a fielder muff the ball. Initially, many infielders scorned the infield fly rule, feeling it deprived them of a defensive weapon. Brooklyn shortstop Tommy Corcoran demonstrated the most common form of disdain in a game against Baltimore on May 23, 1894, when he stood contemptuously still with a “hands-in-his-pockets” gesture with a man on base as a pop fly hit by John McGraw landed at his feet and umpire Tom Lynch perforce yelled something like, “Infield fly, if fair!” It is impossible now to ascertain the exact wording or signal given by an umpire on an infield fly in 1894, but today’s rule is that once an umpire has signaled an air ball is an infield fly the batter is out only if it lands or is muffed in fair territory. An air ball drifting into foul territory before a play is made on it is no longer an infield fly, caught or not.