The Official Rules of Baseball Illustrated

by David Nemec

  In rare cases a pitcher is deprived of a win that should have been his when his team is saddled with a forfeit loss at a juncture when it was leading in the game. Perhaps the most unjust example came in the last American League game hosted by Washington on September 30, 1971, when a crowd riot ended the fray with two out in the top of the ninth and the Senators leading the New York Yankees, 7–5. One out away from recording his eighth victory of the season, instead Paul Lindblad received a no decision for his day’s work, as did Yankees pitcher Jack Aker, who was about to be tagged with his fifth defeat.

  The 1971 season stats credit Yankees pitchers with only 81 of their team’s 82 wins because one victory came by forfeit. In the nineteenth century, official scorers and team statisticians were not always so careful, even though forfeits were much more common at that time. For many years, the stats for a number of teams during the 1880s and 1890s failed to balance in any of the baseball encyclopedias, partly because forfeit wins and losses were not taken into account. In addition, pitchers in forfeited games were often erroneously credited with wins or losses that have since been deducted.

  8.03 (b)

  A field umpire may take any position on the playing field he thinks best suited to make impending decisions on the bases. His duties shall be to:

  (1) Make all decisions on the bases except those specifically reserved to the umpire-in-chief;

  Base umpires’ positioning was fairly straightforward once both leagues mandated in 1952 that, whenever possible, a minimum of four umpires were scheduled to work each game. With the bases empty, the first- and third-base umpires generally stationed themselves in foul territory near the base that was their responsibility, and the second-base umpire in an area where he was the least likely to interfere with a fielder or be hit by a batted ball. In recent years, owing to the extravagant shifts that many teams employ against pronounced pull hitters, base umpires will often shift accordingly. As a result, there are times when a third-base umpire may be a better judge on a play at second base than the second-base umpire. Although there are no known statistics to support this, there is a distinct impression that nowadays, perhaps due to packed conditions on one side or the other of second base created by the innumerable shifts, more field umpires are being hit by batted balls and unintentionally interfering with fielders trying to make a play.

  Many games had four umpires as early as 1947, and those that had only three would have base umpires assigned to both first and third base along with the home-plate umpire. Plays at second base were up for grabs but generally taken by the field umpire closest to the bag. There were regular-season games in the late 1940s, however, that had as many as six umpires, and some had as few as two. A shining example of the unmitigated clout wielded by the New York Yankees in that era came in 1949. The previous year, the American League pennant race had boiled down to a one-game playoff at Boston between the Red Sox and Cleveland Indians. Only the customary four umpires were assigned to that contest. In 1949, when the AL pennant was destined to be decided on the final weekend of the season in a two-game series between the Red Sox and Yankees at Yankee Stadium, no less than six umpires were slated to work the pair of games, with the two extra men working the left- and right-field foul lines. To make this possible, two umpires that otherwise would have worked the final weekend games at Washington between the Philadelphia A’s and the last-place Senators were sent to New York, burdening the A’s-Senators’ games with only a two-man crew, Joe Paparella and Bill Grieve, quite likely the last two-man crew assembled on purpose. Meanwhile, the National League race in 1949, which also came down to the final Sunday of the season, featured games with pennant implications at both Wrigley Field and Shibe Park, where at each site only the standard four-man crew was assigned.

  The National League and American League have not always had the same rules regarding the responsibilities a home plate umpire has as opposed to a base umpire. As but one example, the balk incident cited in the chapter on definitions of terms that may have cost the St. Louis Cardinals the National League pennant in 1949 could not have happened in the same way that year in the American League. Originally, it was reported in accounts of the game that plate umpire Bill Stewart called the balk. But actually second-base umpire Jocko Conlan cited Giants pitcher Adrian Zabala for the infraction that forced Nippy Jones to bat over again. In the National League, any umpire in 1949 could cite a pitcher for failing to pause in his stretch before delivering a pitch, whereas the only American League official permitted to pass that judgment was the home plate ump.

  In truth, the National League and American League have not always played by the same set of rules, period. Well after the peace agreement between the two leagues was signed in 1903 and both agreed to play under the same basic rules, there were still significant differences. We have already cited several, and here is another that has flown under the radar.

  For those who think having two sets of rules on the DH in the two different parks used in a World Series is an abomination, having different rules for different World Series parks is nothing new. In October 1911, sportswriter Damon Runyon wrote of the two sets of rules to be used in the upcoming Series between the Philadelphia A’s and the New York Giants. American League rules would prevail in Shibe Park, while National League rules would be used at the Polo Grounds. Runyon explained, “In the National League on an infield fly baserunners may stand away from the base and in case the fly is dropped they can go down to the next base at their own peril, without first returning to the base they occupied and touching it. In the American League base runners must return to the base and not leave it until the ball is caught or strikes the ground or a player.”

  There was also a different rule on balks. In the National League, if a pitcher dropped a ball while in the act of pitching it was an automatic balk and all baserunners advanced one base. If there was a man on third he was permitted to score. In the American League, it was not a balk; runners took their chances on being put out if they opted to try to advance on the dropped ball. These differences between the two leagues extended deep into the 1910s and even in some instances well beyond, but posed no problem for umpires because they were employed solely by the league in which the World Series game was taking place rather that by MLB in general, as has been the case since 1999.

  8.03 (c)

  If different decisions should be made on one play by different umpires, the umpire-in-chief shall call all the umpires into consultation, with no manager or player present. After consultation, the umpire-in-chief (unless another umpire may have been designated by the League President) shall determine which decision shall prevail, based on which umpire was in best position and which decision was most likely correct. Play shall proceed as if only the final decision had been made.

  Although the crew chief has the final word if two or more umpires disagree on a rule interpretation or a matter of judgment, if the majority of his staff outweighs him, he will usually concur with the consensus point of view. Since umpires are afforded the same protection as jurors, the baseball public never learns how the opinion fell on a controversial play except in the rare event when one of the arbiters chooses to talk for the record.

  A case in point occurred in Game Two of the 2005 ALCS at U.S. Cellular Field between the Chicago White Sox and Los Angeles Angels when home-plate umpire Doug Eddings allowed A. J. Pierzynski to take first base on what he claimed was an uncaught third strike with two out to extend the White Sox’ turn at bat in the bottom of the ninth. Eddings’s ruling became critical when Pablo Ozuna, a pinch-runner for Pierzynski, scored on Joe Crede’s double to give Chicago a hard-fought 2–1 victory. The Sox then swept the next three games from the visibly deflated Angels, and went on to bring Chicagoans their first world championship baseball team in eighty-eight years. The video replays indicated that Angels catcher Josh Paul caught reliever Kelvim Escobar’s pitch, but were inconclusive. Eddings’s disputable decision was not the crux of the Angels’ argument, however. What rightfully angered the
Halos was the way he waffled before making it. In an ironic prelude to arguably the pivotal play in the 2005 postseason, Aaron Rowand, the batter before Pierzynski, swung at a third strike that clearly bounced in front of the plate. Eddings properly threw out his right arm to indicate a strike, waited for Paul to tag Rowand, and then raised his right fist to indicate Rowand was out. When Pierzynski followed by striking out swinging on a low pitch, Eddings stuck out his right hand to indicate the strike. Paul then rolled the ball back to the mound as Eddings raised his fist to indicate the batter was out. Suddenly, Pierzynski, who had started toward the dugout, did a 90-degree turn and sprinted toward first base. It appeared that Eddings instantly questioned the correctness of his call, which is normal. But according to baseball historian Dennis Bingham, who is also a longtime umpire, Eddings then deviated from three of the basic rules that trainee umpires are taught. In a situation like the one confronting Eddings, unless he saw the ball bounce he should have shouted “Batter is out!” as Pierzynski ran to first base. If Eddings realized belatedly that the ball had bounced, then he should have given the safe sign emphatically when Pierzynski reached first. In the event Eddings hadn’t seen the play clearly, he should have called time once Pierzynski reached base and immediately asked third- base umpire Ed Rapuano (since Pierzynski was a left-handed hitter, offering Rapuano the best view) for his opinion and then either gone with Rapuano’s ruling if he saw the play or called Pierzynski out if he did not.

  But Eddings failed to do any of these things. Instead, he began pacing around after Pierzynski reached first, obviously in a quandary, and never made a resolute call one way or the other. Yet Eddings’s fellow umpires, including crew chief Jerry Crawford, at least tacitly supported his decision, albeit we will probably never learn with what degree of conviction. Later on, Eddings said that he was certain the ball had bounced, entitling Pierzynski to run to first, but his actions during and after the play belied his claim. The situation was made worse by a press conference after the game in which Eddings, members of his umpiring crew, and the umpires’ rep hemmed and hawed, amplifying the feeling that none of them really felt confident the right call had been made.

  8.04 Reporting

  (a) The umpire shall report to the League President within twelve hours after the end of a game all violations of rules and other incidents worthy of comment, including the disqualification of any trainer, manager, coach or player, and the reasons therefor.

  (b) When any trainer, manager, coach or player is disqualified for a flagrant offense such as the use of obscene or indecent language, or an assault upon an umpire, trainer, manager, coach or player, the umpire shall forward full particulars to the League President within four hours after the end of the game.

  (c) After receiving the umpire’s report that a trainer, manager, coach or player has been disqualified, the League President shall impose such penalty as he deems justified, and shall notify the person penalized and the manager of the club of which the penalized person is a member. If the penalty includes a fine, the penalized person shall pay the amount of the fine to the league within five days after receiving notice of the fine . . .

  No major-league player has ever been barred for life for fighting with an umpire, although prior to Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis’s installation in 1920 as the game’s first commissioner, there were numerous physical confrontations between players and umpires that could have been grounds for permanent expulsion. Ty Cobb’s pugnacious temperament got him into a multitude of fistfights with fans and fellow players, and even on at least one occasion with an umpire. Billy Evans, the most fastidious and also among the most mild-mannered arbiters of his day, nevertheless locked horns with Cobb during a September 24, 1921, contest at Washington where he was officiating the bases.

  To Cobb’s great pleasure, Evans accepted the invitation to meet him under the Griffith Stadium stands after the game. Witnesses to the bout later characterized it as quick and brutal, with Cobb, as expected, administering a sound thrashing to Evans. Evans agreed in advance of the fight not to report the incident to the American League office, now a violation of Rule 9.05 (b) that would have earned his immediate suspension, if not dismissal. But AL president Ban Johnson heard about it anyway and at first responded to news of the incident by saying, “only that he was sorry that he missed it.” On second thought, however, he suspended Cobb for one game and forced the battered Evans to officiate the next few games with his face swathed in bandages.

  Evans was not the only umpire in the early 1900s to engage in fisticuffs with a player, but he was among the last. After Judge Landis took office, umpires were no longer fair game for irate players whenever they delivered an unpopular decision. Had Landis been called upon to review an incident like the one in a game in the Baker Bowl between Philadelphia and the St. Louis Cardinals on July 10, 1911, involving Phillies outfielder Sherry Magee and rookie National League umpire Bill Finneran, he might have banished Magee for life when the outfielder slugged Finneran after he was ejected from a game for disputing a third-strike call on a pitch by the Cards’ Roy Golden. Earlier in the game, Magee had argued vigorously with base umpire Cy Rigler when he was thrown out attempting to steal second base. After Magee was rung up by Finneran, he threw his bat in the air and was promptly ejected. He then rushed the rookie umpire. The two men clinched for a second before Magee stepped back and delivered a crushing left to Finneran’s face. As Magee then walked toward the Phillies bench, Finneran chased after him with blood pouring from his mouth and had to be restrained. Magee’s excuse was that Finneran had called him a vile name in ordering him off the field. For what was described as his “brutal and unprovoked assault,” Magee was suspended for the rest of the 1911 season by National League president Tom Lynch, and fined $200.

  However, Lynch, himself a former umpire, lifted the suspension after Magee had been out of uniform just 36 days, in part because there was testimony that Magee, who suffered from epilepsy, might have been in the throes of a seizure when he struck Finneran.

  Tom Lynch, one of the few successful early-day umpires, was president of the National League in 1911 when he was hard put to render a satisfactory decision after a rookie member of his umpiring crew was flattened by Sherry Magee, the defending NL batting champion.

  In 1901, its inaugural season as a major league, the American League suffered its own version of the nefarious Magee incident. On August 21, in a game at Washington, Chicago shortstop Frank Shugart slugged umpire Jack Haskell after Haskell claimed Bill Coughlin was entitled to score from third base on a pitch that got away from White Sox catcher Joe Sugden. Shugart initially was declared ineligible “for all time” to play in the American League, but less than a month after being banned he was reinstated by league president Ban Johnson and finished the season with Chicago.

  In the 1890s, Magee’s and Shugart’s actions would not even have warranted a suspension. During a game on July 22, 1897, when Cincinnati Reds pitcher Pink Hawley flattened umpire Jack Sheridan after the two came to blows over one of Sheridan’s calls, Sheridan contented himself with merely ejecting Hawley. In another contest that season, Cincinnati catcher Heinie Peitz charged umpire Tim Hurst. When Hurst fended Peitz off with his mask, Peitz belted him in the mouth. This incident was one of the rare times that Hurst was on the receiving end. Asked once why he became a major-league umpire, a job that required him to work a game alone and endure virulent abuse from players, fans, owners, and even, on occasion, reporters, Hurst said, “It’s a hard life, lads, but you can’t beat the hours.” A boxing referee in the offseason, Hurst seemed to thrive on conflict. If a player questioned one of his calls too fervidly, Hurst would put his mouth close to the protestor’s ear and offer the key to his hotel room, where everything was “nice and quiet” and there would be no witnesses when the player had his jaw broken so that he couldn’t bellyache about an umpire’s decision for the rest of the season. No one ever reached for Hurst’s key. He was eventually booted out of the major-league umpiring ranks in 1
909 by Ban Johnson for spitting on A’s second baseman Eddie Collins.

  Eddie Collins posted a .333 career batting average and 3,312 hits, but never won a batting title in his lifetime. Today, some authorities credit him with the 1914 American League hitting crown.

  But not all umpires in Hurst’s day were as combative as he. Many that lacked his bellicosity quickly found themselves unable to keep control of a game. Consequently, few men lasted even as long as a full season at the job. In the 1895 campaign alone, fifty-nine different men served as umpires in regular-season games, and National League president Nick Young grew so desperate to fill the constant vacancies in his ranks that he hired most of his arbiters sight unseen or else gave the post to ex-players with no officiating experience who were down on their luck. Among them was Hank O’Day, who had pitched with Washington in the late 1880s to a young catcher named Connie Mack. By the mid-1890s, when O’Day became an NL arbiter, Mack was managing the Pittsburgh Pirates. Revered for his ecclesiastical demeanor when he later piloted the Philadelphia A’s for half a century, Mack was not always a gentlemen in the rollicking 1890s. He and O’Day clashed so fiercely one afternoon that the umpire was forced to eject his former batterymate and then summon a policeman when Mack refused to leave. The O’Day-Mack incident and others like it led Boston sportswriter Tim Murnane, himself an ex-player, to observe: “The time will soon come when no person above the rank of garrotter can be secured to umpire a game.”