There are a lot of things that, in my view and in the view of many others, are suboptimal in today's game.
You've either heard me go on about them in the past year or two or you've heard others go on about them, but a short, non-exclusive list includes the view that there are too many home runs and strikeouts now, bullpen use has changed the nature of the game in less-than-great ways, and the game-going and sometimes merely game-viewing experience has become prohibitively expensive for some and annoying in many respects to everyone, to the point where it has become a barrier to even enjoying the product in the first place.
While I never hesitate to make my views known on these matters, I also acknowledge that I do not have a monopoly on wisdom with respect to them. Indeed, there's a lot to be said about all of these issues - both in support and in pushing back against my views on them - to further the discussion. Baseball has been around a long time, it changes more often than our nostalgic view of its history suggests, and all of us have our blind spots. The only way to deal with that stuff is to talk more about it, to add more voices to the conversation and, perhaps most importantly, to accept that we're never gonna settle on anything definitive. One person's ideal game is one person's "unwatchable" game and it has always been thus.
Are there are limits to who we should talk to about all of this, though? For example, do we really need to know what Goose Gossage and Pete Rose have to add to this conversation? Bob Nightengale of USA Today thinks so. Here's Gossage:
As a matter of editorial philosophy I question whether it ever makes sense to ask Goose Gossage and Pete Rose about anything that is not specifically about Goose Gossage or Pete Rose and even then I'd exercise caution. Gossage has spent the last ten years as every writer's go-to for easy quotes hating on anything that has happened in baseball since 1988. Rose, in addition to being a loathsome human being who is banned from the game, is also one of those dudes who thinks his generation and his generation alone Played the Game the Right Way. The less we hear from them on this stuff the better, as far as I'm concerned.
Yet, they're not wrong.
At least they're not wrong as far as what they're saying above. That's how frickin' messed up baseball is right now. Even Goose Gossage and Pete Rose are on my side of the matter. It's enough to make a guy sit down and take stock, ya know? At least it's enough to make me want to be more specific and objective about what it is that bugs me about the game today, so as not to lazily fall into an "everything is new sucks" stance, which I suspect is what animates these two particular stopped clocks.
I think it helps to break it all down into two categories, which lead to very different conversations. One category is the aesthetics of baseball. The other is the structure of baseball.
On the aesthetic side we're dealing with how any given game plays out. How, on any given night, it seems, that we have nearly a dozen 14-7 games in which the bat boy, or someone quite like him, hits three homers while also taking the mound and striking out 14 guys but somehow getting the loss anyway, with the game ending a crisp four hours and sixteen minutes after the first pitch. This is a slog. It has a lot to do with the juiced ball and the manner in which both hitters and pitchers have been selected for thanks to analytical trends, changes in the strike zone and all of that.
On the structural side we're talking about the business, economics and leadership of the game and how it has led to a situation in which multiple teams are tanking - telling their fans that, at best, they'll be competitive two or three out of every ten years - while fielding a roster of players who would have at least a moderate fight on their hands to ensure first place in the International League. This while still charging ridiculous prices for tickets, concessions, and parking while making the games harder and harder to watch on TV without paying for premium cable plans. Nightengale notes that attendance is down something like 800,000 overall so far this year, coming off last year's 15-year low in attendance. None of this is an accident, of course. When you tell fans you're not going to try to win while giving them no other incentive to come to the park, you're going to have fewer fans coming to the park.
As I said, these are two different areas of complaint. I'm open to the idea that my aesthetic distaste for what's going on in baseball right now is merely my opinion. I'm a middle aged guy and, even if I work extra hard to not be some nostalgic, sentimental simpleton, I'm not immune from falling into that trap of "everything was better when I was 12." I probably do that more than I care to admit. I don't think I'm alone in hating the juiced ball game right now, but I also have to nod in deference to people who love it, as I'm sure there are many.
Where I start to become less "it's all good, everyone's opinion is valid" about all of this, though, is when observe that a lot of the aesthetic stuff is a direct product of the structural stuff.
Again, it's OK to like the current state of baseball. It's OK to presume that some of us - be it Goose Gossage, Pete Rose or me - are turned off by it to some extent because we're just crotchety old dudes who hate change. But it's fair to say that, like most change in baseball, it has not been exclusively organic. Like most change it is the product, at least in part, of a change in circumstances and incentives. Though, in this case, that change is not necessarily benign. It's driven by a bottom-line mentality that, while always present in baseball, has far more of an impact on the game on the field than it has in a very, very long time because it's a bottom-line mentality that can afford to be indifferent about the winning and losing of baseball games.
Maybe history will prove me to be a crank when it comes to this stuff. But I feel like it's worth examining the roots of the aesthetic issues in baseball via reference to what led to them. If it's garbage-in, is that which comes out not garbage?