Of course it was an error. Let's get that out of the way right now. Of course the first hit -- and the only hit -- surrendered Sunday by Brewers pitcher CC Sabathia should have been ruled an error on Sabathia, not an infield single for Pittsburgh's Andy LaRoche.
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| Sabathia didn't complain about the scorer's decision. (US Presswire) |
Tough play? Absolutely. In other circumstances, it could have been ruled a hit.
But not in these circumstances. Not when Sabathia hasn't given up a hit all day and it's already in the fifth inning. In the first inning, call that a hit. Fine. But in the fifth inning? No way. Especially not with someone as nasty as Sabathia throwing as nastily as he was throwing against a lineup as weak as Pittsburgh's. Those are things official scorer Bob Webb should have taken into account before hurriedly -- within five seconds, according to the video -- ruling the play an infield single.
All that being said ... of course the original ruling should stand. Of course Webb should not have reversed his call, as he could have done as the game's official scorer. Baseball rules gave Webb 24 hours to change his mind, and he declined. Good for him. Shame on the Brewers for even asking, and asking is a nice way of saying bitching and moaning and whining and crying.
To change that decision and give Sabathia an error would have given him a no-hitter on Sunday, and he didn't deserve a no-hitter. Not on Monday, 24 hours after throwing the last pitch, all of the pressure turned off.
The pressure is one of the most critical elements of the no-hitter. The pressure on the pitcher as the game rolls along to avoid making a mistake. The pressure on the catcher to ask for the right pitch. The pressure on the umpire to make the right calls behind the plate or on the base paths. The pressure on the batter to break it up.
The pressure is amazing. If you've ever seen a no-hitter unfold before your eyes, either in person or on the television, you know the pressure is suffocating. And all you're doing is watching it. Sitting in the upper deck or on your couch, you're living and dying with every pitch, knowing you might just be witnessing history. You could watch 100 games a year for the rest of your life and not see a no-hitter. Or you could see one tomorrow. No telling. But just to watch the thing is excruciating.
Imagine throwing it. Imagine dealing with that pressure.
Sabathia didn't. He didn't have to sit through the top of the ninth inning, while his teammates were batting, and try to calm his nerves just three outs from the first no-hitter of his career. He didn't have to stand on the mound with two outs in the ninth and consider whether to throw a fastball or a curveball, knowing a fastball that caught too much of the plate or a curveball that hung instead of darted could ruin his no-hitter.
Giving Sabathia a no-hitter after the fact would have been an insult to every pitcher who ever threw a real one. That's not Sabathia's fault, but it is reality. And that could explain why he wasn't griping about Webb's ruling after the game, or asking for Webb to change it.
On the bright side, Sabathia will still be remembered for this game. Baseball doesn't forget stuff like this. Baseball fans don't forget, either. In 1917 Boston's Ernie Shore relieved his team's starting pitcher after the pitcher walked the first batter of the game and was ejected for arguing balls and strikes. The runner was thrown out stealing, and Shore retired the next 26 batters. Perfect game? Not quite. But baseball remembers. It doesn't hurt that the hotheaded starting pitcher was Babe Ruth.
Harvey Haddix in 1959 and Pedro Martinez in 1995 were perfect for nine innings of scoreless ballgames before giving up a base runner in extra innings. Perfect games? No. But baseball remembers.
Sabathia's game wasn't along those lines of historical enormity, but he will be remembered nonetheless for throwing a one-hitter that was marred not just by a possible error ... but by a possible error by Sabathia himself.
Baseball will remember this. And baseball will remember it a lot more kindly than it would have remembered a no-hitter that was thrown on Sunday and awarded on Monday.
