Major League Baseball has a shift problem.
In short, the shift is when players on the field move from their traditional positions into non-traditional positions to match a batter’s hitting tendencies. Data crunchers in the front office have driven this, well, shift in play.
The problem isn’t the shift itself. I have no problem when teams employ it. My issue is that nobody on the field tries to counter it.
Players refuse to bunt or hit the other way, so they continue to hit into the shift. The opposite-field is wide open and they simply won’t bunt down the line. It’s maddening.
A friend of mine thinks it may have morphed into unwritten rule territory, an honor code that you aren’t going to take a “cheap” base? I say the shift is too new. That kind of unwritten rule couldn’t yet be established. These things take time.
I couldn’t imagine Joe DiMaggio, Ted Williams, or Tony Gwynn letting them shift that way. They’d adapt and capitalize on the situation. Or would they? Turns out that the shift was used against Ted Williams. Twice.
First, in the second game of a double-header in 1946 and again in the World Series that year. He went 1-for-2 with two walks in the former instance, after going 4-for-5 with three home runs in the first game of that doubleheader. In the Series, he batted .200, but played through injuries. No mention if the shift played a role.
But that was rare. Largely speaking, the shift is a recent development as data analysis takes over the world. Baseball already counted everything. Now they have data scientists to create charts with all that data.
People want the shift banned. I say teach batters to hit.
The problem with baseball today is that it’s boring. No more small ball, which makes the game exciting and strategic. It’s all home runs, walks, and strikeouts.
As my friend notes, a guy who has .250 batting average with 20 homers is acceptable now. He hits in the 5 or 6 spots and collects $12 million per year.
Meanwhile, the nation’s attention shifts to anything else.
