Last week, as my wife and I watched the San Francisco Giants play division rival Colorado Rockies, a moment occurred in which Giants pitcher Madison Bumgarner hit Rockies batter Troy Tulowitzki square in the calf with a pitch. I realize this happens nearly once per game, on average, and so we take it for granted. So let’s just play it out in stark terms for a moment.
A man standing on a raised pile of dirt throws a very hard, small, round object at speeds exceeding 90 miles per hour from just 60 feet away. This projectile hits another man resulting in obvious pain. And the person who harmed the batter? He acts as though nothing interesting has transpired.
“Why can’t they at least acknowledge what’s happened?” I asked my wife, rhetorically. “Just a subtle nod or a momentary outstretch of the hand.” I do understand the unwritten rule of baseball—Thou shalt not show concern when you hit another player with a pitch—but this just seems antiquated.
I later inquired about this with a close friend who pitched at the college level. Given his response to my question, I’ve decided to keep him anonymous for fear of “outing” him to the baseball community. He admitted that in high school, when he hit a batter with the ball, to make amends he would subtly tip his cap to the batter as he ran to first. Though when he got to college, he shared, there was no way he could behave like this.
Intertwined within this whole practice, as a batter experiences the pain of such an event, should he rub the injury or express any discomfort, he would break an equally entrenched unwritten rule in the culture of baseball. Not so much a moral issue, but one of machismo. Baseball lore has it that Sandy Koufax only threw intentionally at one batter: Lou Brock. And even after fracturing Brock’s shoulder with the pitch, Brock never rubbed it.
In that funny-because-it’s-true way, the famous line in A League of Their Own reminds us, “There’s no crying in baseball.” But it’s one thing to show bravado regarding your own pain. That’s certainly the culture: to admit you feel pain is considered a weakness, and nobody wants to be seen as weak, especially a man playing baseball. But it’s an entirely different circumstance to exhibit bravado regarding the pain you have caused another. That’s actually what the realm of ethics examines: circumstances in which we infringe upon the interests of others, especially when we’ve caused them harm.
If society at all reflects sport, which many believe it does, this seems like a good set of mores to reflect on society: when you harm someone, at the very least, acknowledge you’ve caused them pain.
This is why it was so interesting to hear on the radio this past weekend, listening to the Giants game recap, as the commentators recounted a Giants pitcher showing concern for a hit batter. This was actual news. After hitting Cardinals batter Allen Craig on the helmet with an 89 mph fastball, pitcher Tim Hudson exhibited visible concern on his face and rushed over to make sure Craig was okay and to let him know it was an accident. Hudson is no rookie to the league: as a 16-year veteran and the active leader in career wins, he knows about the rules-not-written. And yet he exhibited what baseball writer John Shea referred to as a display of “sportsmanship” by an athlete who is a “class act.” All just for showing a little concern for someone he’d harmed.
Baseball is unique in this pain-causing way. After hurling the pain-causing projectile, the pitcher now stands just 50 feet away with a complete lull in the action. It’s not like a hockey game in which the fast and furious pace allows no time for cap-tipping. The pitcher is just standing there with the batter clumped on the ground after being hit in the ribs with his fastball. Or, as was the case in an earlier game this season, in which the Dodgers Paul Maholm hit Giants Brandon Belt in the hand with an errant pitch thrown up near his head, sandwiching his thumb between the bat, breaking a bone. Never mind the pain as he also had to undergo surgery, installing two pins in his thumb, placing him on the DL for at least six weeks. Maholm looked the other way immediately after throwing the pitch, as per the unwritten rule. Seems like a good time, instead, for just a bit of that “class”—assuming we can agree that it is such—and, at the least, a tip of the hat. Rarely is it so easy to show class. Sportsmanship usually requires one to perform a task asking much more from us.
No doubt, an overt ethos of bravado and machismo pervades the sporting culture, baseball as much as any other. But it seems like an athlete can still be macho (if that’s so desired) and successful (such as being the winningest pitcher in the game) yet still exhibit concern for a competitor he’s harmed. It doesn’t even seem like we need to award the moniker “sportsmanlike” and “classy” for doing so, but if that will help cause the shift, then let’s do it. Just a tip of the cap. You don’t need to rush over and rub it for them, because that’s definitely against the unwritten rules—let them rub it themselves.