Step Into It

According to the Official Baseball Rules, “The ball shall be a sphere formed by yarn wound around a small core of cork, rubber or similar material, covered with two stripes of white horsehide or cowhide, tightly stitched together. It shall weigh not less than 5 nor more than 5¼ ounces…and measure not less than 9 nor more than 9¼ inches in circumference.” With a few slight variations of the size and height of the stitching, the first hard ball introduced in game play to a seven- or eight-year-old kid, is exactly like the ball being used in high school, college, and the Major Leagues. But, when you were five or six years old, or even younger, you probably played with a ball that was a little softer than normal.

I remember playing with the Mighty Mites when I was little. Back then, the ball of choice was the old Incrediball. It looked a little like this RagBall, only it had a thin red cord imitating seems. When your coach was lobbing up Incrediballs for you to hit, it was rare that he would ever hit a batter. But, if he did, everyone would laugh, including the player who had just been plunked. Although the Incrediball now looks like a real baseball and usually weighs the same as a real baseball, it is still much softer. These days the Incrediball has evolved beyond a piece of equipment used exclusively for t-ball and has found its way into the mainstream. In college, for example, we would have the occasional rag ball game in the gym when the weather was bad. And in high school, we would play catch in the hallways with Incrediballs during the winter months. But, for a five-year-old playing catch for the first time, it makes it easier to pick up the ball and throw it back after being hit in the chin by his dad. Eventually, however, the Incrediballs are left in the practice bucket and the coaches and dads stay on the sidelines—no more t-ball, and no more coach-pitch.

A hardball is much less forgiving than an Incrediball. The first few years of playing with a real ball, facing pitchers roughly your own age can be a little scary for a youngster. Countless practice hours are spent trying to help players stay in the batters box when a pitch is thrown. My personal favorite is the when the coach places an extra bat just behind the batter to deter him from stepping out. Some kids are afraid of the ball right away. Others are fine until the first time they step to the plate and it happens: the bean-ball. I’ve seen plenty of would-be all-stars give up baseball at the age of seven just because they were hit by a pitch.

Once, my youngest brother was pitching to a girl when he was eight or nine and he accidentally threw a pitch high and tight. The natural reaction is to turn your back to the ball or to jump back. This girl’s reaction was to turn into the pitch and put her hand up to stop the ball. She missed, and it hit her in the face. The crowd gasped. I think the girl’s mom fainted. My brother turned around and covered his face with his glove—not because he was ashamed of what he had done, but because he was laughing and trying to hide it. The girl’s father, and also the coach, ran out to help her, but by the time he arrived, she was already back on her feet, reaching for her bat, and ready to hit the next pitch. She had to be told that she was awarded first base because she was hit by a pitch. She was tough. Then again, the pitcher who threw the ball was only seven or eight years old. When pitchers get older, they throw harder, and being hit by a pitch is no fun (except maybe when an Incrediball bounces off your six-year-old head in coach-pitch).

It has been a long time since Craig Biggio, now in his 20^th season with the Houston Astros, has had an Incrediball bounce off of his head. Biggio has been hit more than any active player in the game and is 4 HBPs (Hit By Pitch) away from becoming the all-time career leader in that category. Over the course of those 20 years of baseball, he has been thumped 283 times. Oddly enough, he dishes out just as much as he takes and has currently hit 283 home runs in his career as well. When Biggio is hit by a pitch, I’m pretty sure it leaves a mark more often than not. With most pitchers in the Major Leagues throwing fastballs at 90-94 mph, and a select few throwing even harder (Joel Zumaya, Detroit Tigers, 103 mph, July 4, 2006 – how’s that for fireworks?), being hit by a pitch can be a scary situation. So why in the world would anyone go to bat and try to be hit?

For me, it was just a matter of understanding the situation and my own ability. It has been years since I’ve played in serious organized baseball, but the last two times I have played (once in a high school alumni game and another in a 28 and over men’s baseball tournament) I have stepped into the batter’s box as close to the plate as I could get. In the alumni game, it was the last inning and we were tied. It was my first and only at bat of the game and I was the last of the 30 or so alumni to hit that night. There were two outs and the man ahead of me hit an RBI double to tie the game. Behind me was John Buck, the catcher for the Kansas City Royals, and also a Taylorsville High School alumnus. Since I hadn’t hit for quite some time, I was fairly certain that Johnny would do a better job of knocking in the winning run than I could do. But, I had to reach base, or the inning would be over. So, I stepped in with the frame of mind that “this is going to hurt, but it won’t hurt for too long, especially if it means we’ll win the game.” It didn’t happen exactly like I imagined, though. I reacted to the first pitch and lined it to right field which brought in the winning run. But, in the other game, it did work out like I had imagined and I had a nice bruise with the distinct shape of baseball seams on my inner right elbow for weeks to prove it. But, I reached base and the stronger hitters behind me did their job and brought me back home to score.

It all comes down to winning. You can’t win if you don’t score and you can’t score if you get out. Sometimes you need to make sacrifices to score. Some situations might call for a sacrifice bunt to move a runner into scoring position, and others might call for sacrificing your body and stepping into a pitch to reach base and keep the inning going. Sure, stepping into a pitch in high school or college might hurt more than being beaned by your coach with an Incrediball, but, with the right perspective, you still might crack a smile as you trot to first base.

By the way. . . don’t rub it.

The Mendoza Line

I have too often heard that baseball is a “boring game.”

“I can’t watch baseball on TV, but going to the game isn't that bad.”

“I don’t understand baseball.”

“It’s too slow.”

I once had the opportunity of defending America’s Pastime in ward choir practice, of all places. Since moving to Kansas City just under a year ago, I have had the opportunity of seeing firsthand just how popular the NFL has become. The Chiefs are everywhere. At choir that day, a few women seated in front of me were commenting about how much they loved football. One of them said something to the effect of, “I just know God has a special place in heaven for me for not watching football on Sunday. I mean, just look at how much I’ve had to sacrifice.” I rolled my eyes and probably shook my head, but I didn’t see a need to interject my opinion until they started to disrespect my game.

“Baseball is so slow. It’s such a simple game too; not nearly as complicated as football.”

Hmm, I thought, do I really want to get into this argument? Yes.

“That’s what people say who don’t understand baseball,” I said.

They turned around and spewed the typical ignorant complaints about baseball and reiterated their preference to football. What followed was a debate as heated as one might expect between members of a church choir just before singing. That was the latest in a string of encounters with people who did not grow up with baseball, don’t understand the intricacies of the game, and therefore, don’t appreciate it. That’s when I decided I needed to help others see the game as I do.

So, this week (and I’ll try to post every week) I’ll be explaining about the term “Mendoza Line.” If there’s something you’d like me to explain or if you have an idea for a post, send me a comment or an email, and I’ll address your issue in a future edition. And now, the Mendoza Line.

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The first time I ever heard the term Mendoza Line was while I was playing in a summer league when I was 16. Our assistant coach was much younger than the head coach and would frequently joke with the players. One day, in answering a question about his own high school playing days, where he was a backup catcher for three years, he referred to his batting average as being just above the Mendoza Line.

Of course, when you’re 16 years old and surrounded by your teammates, some of whom already think you’re a geek, you don’t ask for an explanation of the Mendoza Line, especially when everyone is laughing at the reference. So I faked a chuckle and tried to think of what it could be. It was obviously a bit of joke, so it had to imply a low batting average. But, what about the name? Mendoza Line? It reminded me of lines of latitude like the Equator or the Tropic of Capricorn. Maybe it was a line of latitude? Maybe it was at 200º latitude and so if you were hitting below the Mendoza Line, you would be hitting less than .200. That makes sense, I thought. There was probably another term for hitting under .023 called the Tropic of Cancer…

As time went on, the reference would pop up occasionally, and I abandoned the idea that it was in any way related to geography. It became increasingly apparent that there must have been someone who had hit poorly, and so the phrase was coined. As it turns out, there was such a player–Mario Mendoza.

Mario played nine seasons (1974-1982) in the major leagues with three different teams, the Pittsburgh Pirates, the Seattle Mariners, and the Texas Rangers. For the most part, he was a utility infielder playing 2B, 3B, and SS for most of his career. Incidentally, he also pitched a total of two innings in 1977, compiling an earned run average (ERA) of 13.50, giving up three earned runs on three hits, with a homerun and two walks. He was born in Chihuahau, Mexico and signed with the Pirates when he was 19 years old because of his defensive prowess. George Brett, the legendary Royal, who was chasing a .400 season in 1980 said of Mendoza, “I remember going into a series in Seattle, think I went 2-for-12 with two home runs, but hit the ball on the nose like 10 times. It was one of those streaks. I remember Mario Mendoza, the shortstop for the Mariners, making two or three diving stabs up the middle. When that starts happening, you think, 'Geez, I wonder if it's in the stars.' You're hitting line drives right at someone and guys are diving for balls and catching them. You're like, "What is going on here? A month ago that was a hit." Now all of a sudden I can't buy a hit.” Neither could Mario. Throughout his career, Mario only hit above .200 four times (see graphic).

Interestingly enough, it may have been Brett who coined the term "Mendoza Line." Supposedly, reporters were questioning Brett about his slow start one season and he replied that he knew he had been having a rough time when he looked in the paper and saw his batting average “below the Mendoza Line.”

So there you have it. Mario Mendoza, a shortstop with a career .215 batting average is the source of the term Mendoza Line, which commonly refers to a batting average of .200. So, if a player is batting below the Mendoza Line, they are hitting less than .200, or averaging less than two hits in ten at bats. After the first 15 games of the 2007 season, Mark Teahen (.200) is right at the Mendoza Line and six other regulars in the Royals’ lineup are below the Mendoza Line, including Ryan Shealy (.098), who is fast approaching the Tropic of Cancer.