Baseball Questions My Mom Asked Me

I'd drop by on Sunday afternoon and turn a game on. Soon, she'd drift in from the kitchen, or from outdoors, and pull out a chair. Then the questions started. Not baseball fan questions. Mom questions. Such as:

What's the infield fly rule? Is there an outfield fly rule?

The infield fly rule prevents infielders from, with runners on first and second, or with the bases loaded - when they're forced to advance on a fair ball - letting a pop fly drop and starting a double play. I guess outfielders could try it. Base runners, however, would have enough time to return to their bases before the ball got back to the infield.

Sixty feet, six inches. Where'd the six inches come from?

In 1893, the distance from the pitcher's mound to home plate was lengthened from 50 to 60 feet, noted by the rulemakers as "60 feet 0 inches." Somewhere between them and the printers, the figure 0 was misread as a 6 and appeared in the official playing rules as a 6.

Dodgers? What are they dodging?

Now, nothing. When they played in Brooklyn, several streetcar lines met near the center of town, and the natives were disdainfully referred to as "trolley dodgers" by more sophisticated folk across the river in Manhattan. Sports writers began applying the name to the baseball team. It stuck, after Superbas, Bridegrooms, and Robins failed.

Why are announcers always talking about old rock songs or TV shows?

Watching baseball on TV, if you're new to the game, can seem like the most boring, pointless thing you've ever done. It's like watching a soap opera while knowing nothing about the characters or story lines. You have to be a casual fan before you can be serious, though, and baseball, like anything on TV, is sizzle first and content second. With attention spans being what they are, and with a couple hundred other choices on the cable dial, announcers have to liven up the presentation in any way they can. Even if it means talking about their favorite episodes of The Brady Bunch, which Stooge they preferred, Ginger vs. Mary Ann, or Pat Benatar song lyrics they think are relevant to the game.

Why does Harry Caray get to sing? Don't any of the other announcers sing?

Bill Veeck, inventor of the exploding scoreboard, who put a midget in uniform, was the first owner to see baseball as pure entertainment. When he purchased the Chicago White Sox in 1975, he inherited Harry, already known in baseball circles as "Old Tomato Face." Harry and Bill Veeck complimented each other like hot dogs and mustard. One day, Harry impulsively picked up the public address mike at old Comiskey Park and sang along as organist Nancy Foust played the customary chorus of "Take Me Out To The Ball Game." The Sox fans, of which there weren't many, loved it and began expecting it. It became part of Harry's shtick, like the glasses, the fondness for a certain beer sponsor's product, and "it might be . . . it could be . . . IT IS!" No, no one else sings. Not everyone's Harry Caray. Tim McCarver or Joe Buck bursting into song during the seventh inning stretch wouldn't be the same.

Have you ever caught a foul ball at a game?

Once, at McCormick Field in Asheville, North Carolina. (The yard where Crash Davis ended his playing career.) A little kid two or three seats down from me cried so hard for so long that I finally gave it to him. See? I don't hate kids after all.

What's all that mean? (After watching the third base coach give signs.) Do you know what it means?

(Sigh.) Only the players and coaches know what it means. Every team's signs are different. An indicator is usually involved. On the Tigers, for example, the third base coach tugging his cap bill after touching the Olde English D on his uniform shirt, the indicator, could be the bunt sign. Tugging an earlobe after the D might be the swing-away sign. The coach rubbing his nose might mean that his nose itches. After all that wigwagging, however, the bunt sign might be the first base coach calling the batter by his nickname and not his real name.

Look at that big dude! How'd he get so big? I'll bet he had pancakes and sausage for breakfast every morning!

Steroids may have helped, Mom.