Updated at 3:45 p.m. following Selig's ruling In a remarkable piece of illogic, Baeball Commisioner Bud Selig on Thursday decided imperfection trumps perfection, a wrong beats a right, and an umpire who admitted his error can damn well live with it. The astonishing obtuseness of baseball's leadership keeps the game ever resilient in error. You know, like the Indians'...
Updated at 3:45 p.m. following Selig's ruling
In a remarkable piece of illogic, Baeball Commisioner Bud Selig on Thursday decided imperfection trumps perfection, a wrong beats a right, and an umpire who admitted his error can damn well live with it.
The astonishing obtuseness of baseball's leadership keeps the game ever resilient in error. You know, like the Indians' front office with their recent draft picks. Baseball celebrates perfection.
Twenty-seven up, 27 down, a perfect game, is one of the rarest feats in the sport.
Yet it tolerates, indeed also celebrates, the "human element," which in this case includes umpire Jim Joyce, a Mr. Magoo in blue.
By now, everyone knows Joyce, the first base umpire, took Detroit pitcher Armando Galarraga's perfect game against the Indians and, in Joyce's own words, "kicked the (stuff) out of it" with a bad call on what should have been out No. 27 Wednesday night.
The Indians' Jason Donald, with a big boost from Joyce, let the Hole-in-the-Bat Gang avoid being victimized in what should have been the third perfect game of the young season. Then again, immortality is always crouching in the on-deck circle with the Indians' punchless lineup.
Clearly, Selig should have overturned the call, using the nebulous powers he is granted to act "in the best interests of baeball." This gains even more force from the tearful post-game admission by Joyce that he blew the call.
This was not Don Denkinger tipping the 1985 World Series the Kansas City Royals' ways with a missed call at first base with none out in the ninth inning of the sixth game. This was the final out of a perfecto. Game over. Mr. Galaragga, please take your place with the Indians' Len Barker and others at the table reserved for one-(no)-hit wonders.
It is hard to believe a veteran ump could blow such an easy call. Watching the game at a restaurant with a friend near Ohio State after a day at the Memorial Tournament, I thought Donald was out in real time, in replay time, in next-day time, and for all time.
Selig, rather than redress the error on the last play of a gem, perpetuates it. Afraid of "setting a precedent," he refused to overturn the call. What precedent would that be? Balancing the scales of justice, which were as out of whack as the great hitting records during the steroid era?
I have argued that Selig, confronted by the obstructiveness of the Players Union, was relatively powerless to enforce drug testing during the heyday of better slugging through chemistry. Not so with UmpGate.
Of course, I am not a baseball purist. I advocate a dramatic expansion of replay review in the game, too. Just the thought of a one-possession Super Bowl overtime decided on a field goal by the team that won the coin toss led the NFL to change playoff overtime rules in a proactive manner.
Why, oh, why, couldn't baseball at least react to its own approximation of such a public relations debacle?
I'd also make batters get in the box and stay there; put pitchers on a time clock; and allow a limited number of managerial challenges to umpire's calls each game. As for the intentional walk, although something wacky might have happened when Cy Young was issuing one in the 1890s, I say wave the batter to first base already.
The criticism that all this would slow the game down is absurd, due to the creaky pace of many baseball games anyway.
Some argue the spoiled perfecto was simply a rotten break, a fluke. I say it's more important to get it right.
I say Selig's duty was clear -- to move baseball into the 20th century.
I say he booted it worse than Jim Joyce.