Call me a baseball purist -- call me what you will. I don't necessarily think that the designated hitter is the absolute worst idea in the world. I can even tolerate (in small doses) the incessant discussions of interleague play. But, please there is one thing that is complete cacophony to my virgin, old-fashioned baseball ears. It is what made "Field of Dreams'" Ray Kinsella turn over in his cinematic grave three times since Opening Day. You can have your expansion. You can even have your realignment, but please take the flagpole out of centerfield.
Yes, I know. In a time where free agents change cities quicker than USAir stewardesses, your favorite team's centerfielder will likely be roaming the grounds for some other squad a year from now, so why not place a large metallic object atop a sloped hill. The Astros did in the recently-opened Enron Field. That way, visiting centerfielders will also be more likely to get injured.
It makes sense. I mean, besides, completely flat ballparks were getting boring anyway. Who wants to watch a sport in which there's only one mound? What fun is that?
A Willie Mays over-the-shoulder catch? Banal. A Jim Edmonds full-extension diving grab? Trite -- no, commonplace. Junior climbing the dead-center field wall to take away a potential game-winning home run? How blas.
I would much rather watch Astro outfielder Roger Cedeno have to scale an incline, jump through nine tires, walk along a tightrope and then catch a deep fly ball.
Lucky for us, the baseballs have been juiced and Enron Field has a flagpole. We are back on the straight and narrow. I was getting worried that after the strike, the owners of the game would be patient and simply let the national pastime show why it became the national pastime. Phew.
There's really nothing to worry about. The wiffleball stadium that is Colorado's Coors Field is terribly boring with its home run hitting and constant scoring. They should really add a mogul course in the outfield. No need to add snow right away -- let's take it slow. For starters, let's just make fielding an impossibility. Later this season, we can add some snow and have all players forced to enter the field of play via ski jump.
Meanwhile, let's toss an Evergladesque swamp into Pro Player Stadium down in Miami. Not a big swamp -- but one complete with crocodiles and the whole nine yards. Just put in enough to make centerfield a strange cross between an Olympic steeplechase and the pit from Roller Derby.
Why stop there? A Starbucks on the field for the players' enjoyment in Seattle seems like a necessity and roll in the kegs in Milwaukee.
The sky's the limit. Thank goodness the perfect symmetry of cornfields and straight titanium white foul lines can be relegated to the world of movies.
Believe me, build it and they will come.
