Vindication years later on hidden ball trick
The game was the Boston Red Sox at the San Diego Padres on Saturday when I took note of an unusual baseball play that revealed an obscure rule.
Manny Machado was playing third base for the Padres, Wandy Peralta was on the mound and Jarren Duran was on third base for the Red Sox.
Machado was using the old hidden ball trick after a rundown play and as Duran wandered off the bag he tagged him.
My mind went decades ago to a game I played in when that happened to me. I remember it as clear as day.
Just to set this up, I was not an outstanding baseball player. My best years were probably playing at Little Knights in Masontown when I was a two-time All-Star in my four years playing for the Orioles. I batted third in the lineup my last year when I hit around .390.
I would advance into the Masontown Teener League where I was average until my final year when I had a fairly good season hitting and fielding. Later I would play for Albert Gallatin, spending my senior season mainly as a pinch runner before working my way into the starting lineup during the second half of the season in center field.
I was basically an average hitter and a good fielder who could cover a lot of ground but with a below-average arm.
Two things I was very good at, though, were getting on base (I always crowded the plate and never saw an inside pitch that I didn’t welcome as a free pass to first base) and running the bases. I was fairly fast and can honestly say I never was caught stealing once in my entire career from Littles Knights through high school. I prided myself on my base running.
Back on a warm summer day during my first year in Teener League I happened to stretch a single into a double and was standing proudly on second base. As the opposing pitcher went into his stretch and looked at me, I took my lead off the bag.
Suddenly the shortstop went over and tagged me and yelled, “You’re out,” and laughingly threw the ball around to his teammates. The base umpire agreed, pointing at me while smiling, saying you’re out.
I looked at the umpire and yelled, “The pitcher was on the rubber! He’s still standing on the rubber now!”
The umpire looked at me then over at the pitcher, indeed still standing on the rubber, gave me a confused look and said, “You’re out,” again. I looked at the home plate umpire as I was walking off the field for help, yelling the same thing to him, that the pitcher was standing on the rubber while the shortstop had the ball. He just put his arms out as if to say, so what, and pointed for me to get off the field.
It should be pointed out there were only a few legitimate umpires that were used in Teener League those years. Most of them were neutral parents or adults and the base umpires were often teenagers.
As I incredulously walked off the field my manager was scolding my teammates because no one picked up that the shortstop had the ball, then he turned to me and asked, “Why didn’t you see that?” I looked at him and, once again, said, “The pitcher was on the rubber.” He seemed baffled and waved my comment off and said, “You have to pay attention out there.”
I sat down angrily and it finally dawned on me. No one else knew the rule that applied here.
I always prided myself on my baseball knowledge. I knew when a hit-and-run or a sacrifice bunt were in order. I knew to try to hit a ground ball to the right side to move a runner up from second to third. I knew when I should try to take an extra base and when not to.
And I knew the rules quite well.
Back to Saturday in San Diego. As Machado tagged Duran when he left the third base bag, the umpires correctly called a balk on Peralta because he was on the mound at the time. Duran was awarded home plate.
The Associated Press story correctly stated the following about the play: “By rule, the pitcher cannot be on the rubber for a hidden-ball trick to be legal. If another player tags a runner while the pitcher is standing on or straddling the rubber, it’s a balk.”
I felt a bit vindicated.
I knew the rule, too. I was quite aware of the hidden ball trick but I also knew once the pitcher stood on the mound and toed the rubber it kicked into my brain that I was safe and could move off the bag, as I did on that play many years ago. A balk should’ve been called and I should’ve been awarded third base.
It doesn’t help much, however, if you’re the only one who knows the rule.
The umpires in that game didn’t know it, my manager didn’t know it and certainly none of the players knew it.
In retrospect, I was naive to think that everyone else knew the rules as well as I did, and, yes, to be certain I should’ve watched to make sure the shortstop had thrown the ball back to the pitcher.
I wasn’t completely absolved of blame that day.
But it still made me smile when they got it right on Saturday in San Diego.
Rob Burchianti is the sports editor of the Herald-Standard and can be reached at rburchianti@heraldstandard.com