Tampa Bay Ray’s reliever Joel Peralta was caught with pine tar on his glove last night. The substance, found in every dugout from Little League to the Show, is used to make things more sticky, and–when used as Peralta had intended–helps pitchers get more movement or spin (I’m not really sure how it works). The point is: there’s a way to cheat in baseball and Peralta did it right. You know when you play Monopoly and steal a couple bucks from the bank and don’t even think twice about it because that’s how the game is played? That’s how Joel feels this morning. Doctoring up the baseball is as old as the game, and Peralta’s incident represents a shift back to, well, the pure kind of cheating.
That Mr. Peralta has reverted to Old-School tricks is illustrative of where the game is these days. We’re out of the age of overinflated offensive statistics and tree-trunk biceps. We’re back into the age of sub-2.50 ERA’s and where hitting above .300 means something. We’re back to where guys are playing the game hard and right.
Earlier this year, Chipper Jones was accused of stealing Jamie Moyer’s signs from second base. That’s cheating 101. If you think you can get away with it, if it gives your team a competitive advantage (and doesn’t involve hypodermic needles or strange creams), you’d better be doing it. As Mark Grace (and probably a thousand people before him) said: “If you’re not cheating, you’re not trying hard enough.” Cheating is as much a part of the game as balls and strikes.
In the 1920’s, the spitball was outlawed. In their book, “The Baseball Codes,” Jason Turbow and Michael Duca write how the spitball was so prevalent in 1955 that commissioner Ford Frick lobbied for the relegalization of the pitch. Nolan Ryan wrote that, “on occasion I’ve pitched from about six inches in front of the rubber when I’ve needed the big strikeout, and I know I’m not the only one who’s done that.”
I’ve been umpiring games for 10 and 12 year olds this summer and I’ve been reminded alot about the essence of this game. I watched as one kid walked the first batter of the game and tears started welling up. I watched a 9 year old take a hellacious hop off the forehead, get picked up by his coach, patted on the ass, and stay in the game with gritted teeth and tears rolling down his cheeks. I’ve also watched coaches throw in slippery balls for the other team, while players bite the laces and try to sneak in illegal bats.
Cheating in baseball is only cheating when you cheat the game. When you do something like take steroids (Freddy Galvis and Ryan Braun), don’t take steroids (Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds), or throw a World Series (Chick Gandil [of the 1919 BlackSox for you youngins]) you’re cheating the game. When you do something Nolan Ryan, Whitey Ford and a whole host of other hall of famers did in the 1950’s you’re cheating too, but it’s the good way, the right way.
The rules of cheating are as clear as mud. There’s only three real strikes in this one: No betting in baseball; no steroids in baseball; and no crying in baseball.
-Sean Morash
