You Can't Kill the Game*

Trust me when I say this: You can't kill the game of baseball. And, trust me when I say, ...But that doesn't keep us from trying.

Now, I doubt there is a vast right-wing conspiracy to destroy the national past time, but there have been times over the years that baseball has broken the hearts of its fans. With the release of the Mitchell Report, today might just be one of those times.

To be completely honest, I haven't read the report myself. There are other people whose job it is to read and digest that type of information and pass it on to the rest of us, including the names of individuals that were caught using steroids and other illegal substances to enhance their performance.

It's a sad day when stars of the game such as Miguel Tejada, Andy Pettite, Roger Clemens are outed as cheaters. No one should be surprised that names like Barry Bonds, Jose Canseco, and Mark McGwire made the list as well. It's sad, but the game, like a good pitcher coming off a horribly poor showing, will toe the rubber once again to pitch another day. You can't kill this game.

Prior to 1942, blacks were not allowed to play baseball. In 1919, the Chicago "Black" Sox threw the World Series. In 1994, because of labor disputations and the ensuing strike, there was no World Series. Baseball, just like the rest of us, evolves and moves forward, sometimes making mistakes along the way. The steroid era is one of those mistakes, but baseball will live to play another day.

Players that pumped steroids or took performance enhancing drugs cheated. They cheated the hallowed history of the game by tainting the statistical bridge that joins everyone that has ever played at the highest level. They cheated teammates who had the moral strength to abstain from using those substances when everyone around them said it was okay. They cheated an entire generation of young fans who grew up emulating them, who will only find out one day that their heros were frauds. But most of all, and saddest of all, they cheated themselves. Altruistic? Yes. But, Roger Clemens will never know how good he would have been had he been clean. How many strikeouts would he have had? Barry Bonds will never be sure if he could have broken the homerun records without help. Maybe they could have had the hall of fame careers that they have had even without drugs. But, we will never know for sure -- and neither will they.

But, understand this: the game will go forward. One day we may discover that half of all players used some sort of illegal substance and cheated. But even then, half of them did not. Those players have had to work harder just to keep pace, and the game will be better for it. Those players are the heart and soul of baseball, and as long as they are there, baseball will never die.

I'm No Dummy

Luther "Dummy" Taylor was a 21 game winner in 1904 for the New York Giants. He and fellow pitcher Christy Mathewson led the Giants to back to back National League pennants in '04 and '05. One Detroit sportswriter said that he threw "the best drop ball delivered across the plate by any pitcher." Throughout his major league career, his ERA (earned run average) was usually low, especially by today's standards, though his record often suffered from a lack of run support. The Saturday Evening Post once commented about him, "Wherever Taylor goes he will always be visited by scores of the silent fraternity among whom he is regarded as a prodigy." In other words, he was adored by other members of the "silent fraternity" because he was great, and because he was one of them. He was deaf.

It was common practice at the time for deaf persons to be nicknamed "dummy," so Taylor's own epithet had more to do with his handicap than his intelligence. However, he did not view his impaired hearing as a detriment. He felt that, much like Ben Aflek in Dare Devil, lacking one sense only enhanced his others. For example, his keen eyesight allowed him to easily steal the signs from the opposing team. He also said he could gauge whether a baserunner was going to steal or not based on his facial expressions.

But, why should Dummy Taylor warrant a post on such a prestigious blog as this? Well, according to some sources, he may be at least partially responsible for the proliferation of "signs" in baseball. John McGraw took over the helm of the New York Giants in 1902 and came up with an innovative way of dealing with Taylor's handicap by making the entire team learn sign language. The team would practice everywhere. For example, while riding the train, they would spell out the roadsigns as they passed. Eventually, this skill spilled over into their games and became the earliest form of "signs" in baseball, according to the Giants.

These days signs are an integral part of the game. A catcher not only uses signs to tell the pitcher what to throw, but can also alert the infielders as to what their responsibilities are should the man at the plate lay down a sacrifice bunt. There are all sorts of signs and signals in the game; too many to list. They can be as complex as the third place the coach touches himself after he retouches the first place he touched after he touched the bill of his hat, or as simple as in little league where, if the coach touches his belt ("B" is for belt), you bunt ("B" is also for bunt). With signs in baseball the lines of communication are open, and getting nine guys on the same page and playing together as a team is invaluable.

As for Dummy Taylor, sure, there are plenty of players past and present that might be more exciting. But, as a coach once told us, everyone brings something different to the table. Everyone has a role to play, and to be our best, everyone needs to fulfill that role. Dummy made his contribution, and I'm glad he did.