by David Nemec
5.12 Calling “Time” and Dead Balls
(a) When an umpire suspends play, he shall call “Time.” At the umpire-in-chief’s call of “Play,” the suspension is lifted and play resumes. Between the call of “Time” and the call of “Play” the ball is dead.
Bear in mind that any umpire can call time, even foul line umpires in postseason games. Many games would doubtless have had a different outcome were it not for the strict enforcement of this rule. In a contest on August 28, 1960, at Baltimore’s Memorial Stadium between the Orioles and the Chicago White Sox, pinch-hitter Ted Kluszewski slammed a three-run homer in the eighth inning off the Orioles’ Milt Pappas to vault the Sox from a 3–1 deficit to an apparent 4–3 lead. But the blow was erased because third-base umpire Ed Hurley had called time a split second before Pappas fed Kluszewski the gopher ball.
Ted Kluszewski participated in the 1959 World Series fourteen years after playing end on the 1945 Indiana Hoosiers, the only season Indiana won an outright Big Ten football championship.
Hurley had observed Earl Torgeson and Floyd Robinson playing catch outside the Sox bullpen in foul territory and stopped play while he told them to get inside the restraining barrier. Made to bat over, Kluszewski lined out to center field to end the inning, and Chicago went on to lose the game, 3–1.
In 1976, Don Money of the Milwaukee Brewers lost an apparent game-winning walk-off grand slam homer in a similar manner. As he came to bat on April 10 at County Stadium against Dave Pagan of the New York Yankees, the bases were jammed in the bottom of the ninth and his team trailed, 9–6. Concentrating only on the task at hand, Money failed to notice that Yankees manager Billy Martin was waving to his outfielders to reposition themselves. New York first baseman Chris Chambliss saw Martin gesturing, however, and asked first base umpire Jim McKean for time.
McKean granted the request just before Pagan released the ball. When Money drove the pitch into the left-field stands, Milwaukee fans erupted in the belief that the blow was a grand slam, giving the Brewers a last-ditch 10–9 victory.
Money started circling the bases while many of his teammates headed jubilantly for the clubhouse. But throughout the celebration McKean continued to wave his arms until finally he got everyone’s attention, whereupon he announced that he had to disallow the four-run homer because he had called time.
Returning to the batter’s box, Money hit a sacrifice fly to bring the score to 9–7, New York, which is how it stood when the game ended moments later.
Before we leave this rule, it must be pointed out that more than one pitch or play can be nullified after an umpire’s unrecognized call of “Time” is belatedly acknowledged. During a May 6, 1959, game at Briggs Stadium (later Tiger Stadium), leading off in the fifth inning Boston Red Sox third baseman Frank Malzone fouled off a pitch from Detroit’s Paul Foytack and then looked at a called strike. Down 0-and-2 in the count, Malzone suddenly breathed a new life upon hearing first-base umpire Ed Hurley cry that he had called time before the first strike.
Unnoticed by the other three arbiters, Hurley had gone down to the Boston bullpen as Malzone stepped into the box to warn a player who was riding the umpires. When Hurley returned to his position and found that two strikes had been registered in his absence, he told plate umpire Joe Paparella to erase them because he had not been prepared to call a play at first base. Paparella tried to compromise and leave at least one strike on the board, but Hurley insisted time had been out for both pitches.
Standing in against Foytack with a fresh 0-and-0 count, Malzone smacked the Tigers’ right-hander’s next pitch for a home run.
5.12 (b)
The ball becomes dead when an umpire calls “Time.” The umpire-in-chief shall call “Time:
(1) When in his judgment weather, darkness or similar conditions make immediate further play impossible;
A game nowadays is suspended when darkness halts it because the stadium lights fail or a local ordinance prevents them from being turned on. At one time, however, a team was not allowed to turn on the lights in its home park during the course of a game unless it was a scheduled night or twi-night doubleheader event. When darkness intervened the game was stopped at that juncture. If it had gone the necessary five innings, it was considered an official game. When darkness forced a halt short of five innings, unless the home team led after 4 ½ frames had been completed all record of the game vanished.
An unfortunate example of the old tradition occurred on June 1, 1947. That afternoon, after a crowd of 47,132 in Cleveland Stadium sat through a 33-minute rain delay prior to the first game of a scheduled doubleheader between the Indians and the Yankees, the weather broke long enough to play two innings before another storm front forced a second stoppage that lasted an hour and 18 minutes. When the game resumed in the mud and fog, New York and Cleveland waged a slugfest that took four and a half hours to finish, including the two rain delays. Finally, with the clock approaching 6 p.m. and New York ahead, 11–9, Yankees relief ace Joe Page stifled a Tribe rally in the bottom of the ninth to preserve Al Lyons’s lone win with the Bronx Bombers.
After the two teams repaired to their dressing rooms, the crowd had to endure another wait before the second game began. By the time the clubs took the field again it was nearly 6:30 p.m. and the fog made the hour seem even later. Cleveland owner Bill Veeck would happily have turned on the lights, but the rules in 1947 forbade it. Yankees leadoff hitter Snuffy Stirnweiss stepped reluctantly to the plate to face Indians right-hander Al Gettel. After each pitch Stirnweiss turned to home-plate umpire Red Jones and complained that he was having trouble seeing the ball. Finally Stirnweiss took a called third strike and even before he could turn to complain again, Jones threw up his hands and announced that he was calling the game on account of darkness. Although the crowd loudly voiced its dissatisfaction, the New York Times reporter at the game said: “But it seemed the sensible thing to do.” No one thought to grumble then about Veeck not being allowed to use the stadium lights so that the twinbill could be completed.
Although an umpire-in-chief is the sole judge whether to terminate or interrupt a game for one of the reasons cited in this rule, players will nevertheless try to give a stubborn arbiter a nudge. There have been instances of batters coming to the plate carrying flashlights to clue an umpire that playing conditions warranted stopping the game. Usually these dramatic asides are ignored, but sometimes a man in blue will listen since insufficient daylight or artificial light is not the only impediment to stop play. In a game on May 20, 1960, between the Chicago Cubs and the Milwaukee Braves the umpires allowed play to continue into the fifth inning at Milwaukee’s County Stadium, even though outfielders on both teams griped incessantly that a heavy fog that had blown in from Lake Michigan early in the proceeding was cutting their visibility to near zero and umpire Frank Dascoli, working the plate, admitted he could not always see the outfielders.
Finally, in the bottom of the fifth, with the game still scoreless, the three Cubs outfielders convinced all four umpires to stroll out to center field to inspect conditions. What they saw persuaded them to ask Frank Thomas, a Cubs player not in the game, to stand at the plate and fungo a fly ball to the outfield. When none of the umps could see the ball coming their way, the game was halted and all record of it was erased. There have been many other instances before and since when fog interfered with play, but the only other recorded time in National League history when it forced a stoppage before the game became official came in 1956 at Brooklyn and also involved the Cubs.
Weather conditions and light outages are not the only circumstances where an umpire might elect to call “Time” and not resume play until the intrusion causing the stoppage has abated. Among the most bizarre situations in recent years is the “Bug Game” at Cleveland’s Jacobs Field on the night of October 2, 2007, in Game Two of the American League Division Series between the Indians and the Yankees. Hoping to even the series at one apiece, the Yankees held a 1–0 lead in the bottom of the eighth inning with rookie
Joba Chamberlain working in relief of New York starter Andy Pettitte. Chamberlain had already begun to be troubled by swarms of midges the previous inning that strangely did not seem to bother Cleveland’s starter Fausto Carmona (a.k.a. Roberto Hernandez). He began the eighth frame by walking Indians leadoff hitter Grady Sizemore and then letting him take second base on a wild pitch. At that point Chamberlain called for more bug spray since midges were crawling all over his neck and face and additional swarms of them circled his head. When the spray had little effect, Yankees manager Joe Torre began begging for time to be called. Home plate umpire Laz Diaz demurred. Cleveland second baseman Asdrubal Cabrera then sacrificed Sizemore to third base where he seemed doomed to languish when DH Travis Hafner lined out to first base. But with two out and Victor Martinez at the plate, Chamberlain threw a second wild pitch, bringing Sizemore home. He then followed by walking both Martinez and first baseman Ryan Garko with Torre continuing all the while to request that play be stopped to no avail.
Chamberlain eventually got out of the inning without further damage by striking out shortstop Jhonny Peralta and the midges had no further impact on the game. But Cleveland prevailed, 2–1, when Hafner singled home left fielder Kenny Lofton in the 11th inning.
What enticed the midges to zero in so ferociously on Chamberlain while scarcely bothering everyone else on the field remains a mystery, but a more significant one is why Torre did not replace Chamberlain after two were out with his bullpen ace Mariano Rivera. Rivera would have needed only to retire Martinez, who was 0-for-3 on the day, and then retire three more batters in the ninth inning to cement a Yankees 1–0 victory. As it developed, he shut down the Tribe cold in the ninth and then escaped a jam in the 10th inning generated by catcher Jorge Posada’s muffed third strike before turning the game over to Luis Vizcaino, the losing pitcher. Meanwhile Torre’s protestations that play should have been stopped while Chamberlain was under siege went nowhere, and Chamberlain, a star in the making prior to the “Bug Game”—he fashioned an 0.75 WHIP during the regular season—was never again more than a journeyman reliever in his 10-year career.
5.12 (b) (3)
When an accident incapacitates a player or an umpire;
(A) If an accident to a runner is such as to prevent him from proceeding to a base to which he is entitled, as on a home run hit out of the playing field, or an award of one or more bases, a substitute runner shall be permitted to complete the play.
Although allowed by this rule to do so, an umpire will seldom kill a play just because a player is injured. Runners have been retired after being knocked unconscious by errant throws or in basepath collisions, sometimes right in front of a base coach who was powerless to come to their assistance.
But while a base coach cannot physically help a stricken runner, a teammate who is also a baserunner can offer assistance. Purportedly, many years ago in a New Jersey sandlot game a player scored after collapsing at third base and dying of a heart attack when the runner coming along behind him picked him up and dragged him all the way home, making sure that his dead teammate’s foot touched the plate before his own. No one has ever found conclusive evidence that this event actually occurred, but it is theoretically possible, even at the major-league level.
One of the most famous moments when a player’s teammates failed to rally to his aid came on October 8 in Game Four of the 1939 World Series between the New York Yankees and the Cincinnati Reds at Cincinnati’s Crosley Field. The two clubs were knotted at 4–4 in the top of the 10th when Joe DiMaggio singled to chase home Frank Crosetti.
Charlie Keller also tried to tally on DiMaggio’s hit but seemingly was beaten on right fielder Ival Goodman’s throw home to Reds catcher Ernie Lombardi even though the throw was slightly off line. Instead of giving himself up, Keller crashed into Lombardi so violently that the ball was jarred loose. As Lombardi lay in the dust beside the plate, dazed and semiconscious with the ball inches away from him, his teammates, as if expecting time to be called, stood by in a trance of their own and allowed DiMaggio to circle the bases and score the Yankees’ third run on the play. But home plate umpire Babe Pinelli was not bound to call time until Reds pitcher Bucky Walters stood on the rubber with the ball in his hand. To add insult, both Goodman and Lombardi were charged with errors on the play and the Yankees won, 7–4, to sweep the Series.
5.12 (b) (8)
Except in the cases stated in paragraphs (2) and (3) (A) of [Rule 5.12], no umpire shall call “Time” while a play is in progress.
It is worth noting here that contingency (8) by inference corrects a common misconception. Many players, coaches, and managers have assumed that time was automatically out when they started to protest an umpire’s decision only to discover the game was still very much in progress.
In the second inning of a game at Braves Field on September 7, 1923, between the Brooklyn Dodgers and the Boston Braves, Boston had Stuffy McInnis on third, Hod Ford on second, and rookie shortstop Bob Smith at bat. After Smith singled to tally both McInnis and Ford, Brooklyn catcher Zack Taylor began jawing with home-plate umpire Hank O’Day that Ford had run out of the baseline to elude Taylor’s tag on the throw to the plate from right fielder Tommy Griffith. Smith took second base on the throw. Then, seeing that Taylor was still occupied with O’Day, Smith darted to third. When Taylor continued to pay the Braves’ runner no attention while he argued, Smith snuck home. Taylor then started a new argument that time had been out, but that too went nowhere.
On April 30, 1990, New York Mets pitcher David Cone allowed the Atlanta Braves to gain two free runs when he got caught up in a debate with first-base umpire Charlie Williams.
With Dale Murphy on second and Ernie Whitt on first and two out, Cone raced to cover first on a grounder between first sacker Mike Marshall and second baseman Gregg Jefferies. Jefferies came up with the ball and tossed it to Cone, who crossed the bag with what he thought was the inning-ending out. But when Williams said Cone’s foot had missed the bag, Cone blew a fuse.
Hank O’Day served in his long baseball career as a major-league pitcher, umpire, and manager. He had moments when he excelled in all three roles, but his overall contributions led many pundits to scratch their heads when he was selected for the Hall of Fame by a special Veterans Committee in 2013.
Noticing Cone’s back was to the infield as he argued with Williams, Murphy, who had taken third on the play, stole a few feet down the line and then broke for home when Cone didn’t turn around. Other Mets, including Jefferies, tried unavailingly to call Cone’s attention to Murphy. Seeing that Cone was oblivious, Ernie Whitt took third and then sprinted for home too after Murphy scored. Jefferies finally grabbed Cone and tried to spin him around so that he could see what Whitt was doing. But Cone continued to sputter until two runs had been tallied after what he was morally certain should have been the third out. The pair of freebies helped the Braves to a 7–4 win. Cone later admitted sheepishly. “I just snapped.”
Rule 5.12 (b) (8) also helps correct another common misconception that time is automatically out when a bat flies out of a hitter’s hands as he swings and sails into the playing field. Hall of Famer Pee Wee Reese had to learn the hard way that there was no such rule.
The Dodgers’ all-time greatest shortstop was on first in a 1947 game on July 12 at Ebbets Field against the Chicago Cubs with Dixie Walker at the plate in the bottom of the third inning. A vicious swing and a miss by Walker on a pitch from Chicago lefty Johnny Schmitz sent the bat flying out of Walker’s grip and toward first base. Reese stepped off the bag to retrieve it for his teammate, and Cubs catcher Clyde McCullough immediately snapped the ball to first sacker Eddie Waitkus. Even as Waitkus was slapping the tag on him, Reese began to proclaim that time must surely be out. But first-base umpire Lee Ballanfant put him straight. Only he was out.
6.00: Improper Play, Illegal Action, and Misconduct
6.01 Interference, Obstruction, and Catcher Collisions
(a) Batter or Runner Interference
; It is interference by a batter or a runner when:
(3) Before two are out and a runner on third base, the batter hinders a fielder in making a play at home base; the runner is out;
Until 2009, right-hander Frank Chapman was believed to be one Frederick Joseph Chapman, born on November 14, 1872, and at age fourteen the youngest player in major-league history. But those vital statistics we know now belong to an upholsterer in Erie, Pennsylvania, who may never have played ball at all, let alone pitched a game in the majors. Thanks to researcher Richard Malatzky, we’ve learned Chapman was a minor-league pitcher whose real first name was Frank, and that he was born in 1861.
Chapman’s lone major-league appearance came on July 22, 1887, in the uniform of the American Association’s Philadelphia A’s and ended on one of the strangest batter’s inference calls ever made. Opposing Chapman that afternoon were the fledgling Cleveland Blues, who had joined the AA in 1887 as a replacement for the Pittsburgh Allegheny club (after Pittsburgh had jumped to the National League). By the bottom of the sixth inning, Philadelphia trailed, 6–2, but had a rally going with Harry Stovey on third and Lou Bierbauer on first with hard-hitting Ted Larkin at the plate. On a pitch to Larkin, Bierbauer jogged toward second base to draw a throw from Cleveland catcher Charlie Snyder and Stovey then raced for home when Cleveland second sacker Cub Stricker ran Bierbauer back to first. Seeing that Stovey would be out when Stricker suddenly wheeled and threw home instead, Larkin wrestled with Snyder, allowing Stovey to regain third base. Umpire Mitchell (first name unknown) at first called Stovey out, a call befitting today’s Rule 6.01 (a) (3) on batter’s interference, but then reversed himself and called Larkin out.