Pitch clock, three hitter minimum per pitcher, limited mound visits, no leaving the batter’s box…all not needed. The Gods visited me in my sleep last night and anointed me the savior of baseball. They revealed to me the true trinity of baseball. Three strikes you’re out, three balls you’re on and foul balls are truly foul.
If God had intended us to sit through five foul balls when the count is 3 and 2, 2 outs in the bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, when you have to go to the bathroom real bad we would have been born with catheters attached. We affront the Gods when we mutter to ourselves “will you please just hit the damn thing” as we sit in our cars awaiting the outcome of an at bat in the grocery store parking lot.
Hit a two strike foul? Young man if you can’t put the ball in play please go sit down and finish your knitting. Oh crafty pitchers, please throw strikes so that the hitter can at least try and hit the damn thing. If it’s three strikes you’re out at the old ball game, then it’s three balls you’re on at the old ball game.
However, we are not all capable of divine revelation. If any of you silly mortals object to this divine mandate you must watch ALL of this video and ask yourself, truly, did you enjoy it?
If instead you feel the warm touch of the divine hand you may watch this instead.
Allow me to detail the maelstrom of divine revelation with which I have been bequeathed.
The intensity and drama whenever the count reaches 2 and 2, as all eyes watch knowing with certainty that the next pitch will determine the outcome of the at bat, or perhaps even the outcome of the game.
The return to majesty of the starting pitcher who will be guaranteed to be able to face no less than twenty hitters during his first 100 pitches and usually many more.
The heightened competitive intensity when hitters and pitchers know they must face their fate sooner rather than later.
The fading away of the soul deadening gloom of pitching change after pitching change as starters complete more innings.
The joy of the trust fund pukes as there is less time between commercials and the pace of play and length of the game attracts a younger and more easily fooled demographic.
Now this is how the Gods play baseball!