Gamesmanship

Monday night's game between the Braves and Mets got off to a strange start.

If you weren't watching, Mets leadoff batter AJ Ewing lined a ball to the right field wall at Truist Park. The ball went under the bottom of the fence and, as he should have done, Braves right fielder Ronald Acuna Jr. didn't try to dig it out. Instead, he held up his hands and the play was blown dead by umpires. The play was ruled a ground rule double.

Even though Ewing stopped at second base, Met interim manager Andy Green challenged the play.  So, in essence, there was nothing to challenge. Was it a ground rule double or regulation double? In both outcomes, the runner was at second base. It didn't matter.

Except it did.

For some inexplicable reason, it took reviewers an awkward eight minutes to determine the outcome of the challenge. Meanwhile, Braves starting pitcher Bryce Elder stood around, threw a few additional warm-up pitches and totally got out of his rhythm.

Maybe that was the goal?

The Mets wound up sending eight batters to the plate and scored five runs. The Bravos couldn't dig out of the hole and, eventually, lost the game 8-5.

To my (somewhat) trained eye, Green might've benn engaging in some sort of gamesmanship. And, as it turned out, the effort was worthwhile.

The incident took my mind back to my baseball coaching days. Surely youth baseball coaches wouldn't practice gamesmanship. Would they?

You'd be surprised.

Here some examples from the days the Choppers roamed the field. 

Recruitment Trip -
During the middle of one of our games, I found the assistant coach of one of our rival teams talking to one of our players (from behind our bench). We found out later, he was trying to get our player to come play with them.

Our league later passed a rule against the practice of player poaching -- that is to say, by-passing the coach and trying to recruit a player without his knowledge. The rule said, if you were caught doing it, you were subject to discipline (up to and possibly including a suspension). The workaround was "just be honest. Approach the coach and say 'We'd like to ask Little Johnny and his parents if he would consider switching teams.'"

Honorable guys would do that; the guys who were just out for themselves scoffed.

Thus, the poaching rule didn't stop another coach from trying a similar trick. He did it in front of the kid's dad in between games one tournament weekend. 

The dad reported the incident to me and I called the coach on it. His response was righteous indignation. He neither confirmed nor denied it happening. He just showed anger that I lowered myself to ask him about it.

Uh-huh.

Take My Ball and Go Home -
Two coaches played gamesmanship by leaving before the end of a game. 

In one example, there was a fairly serious travel team that came to play in one of our fall leagues. The coach didn't like some of the league policies and he showed up, that night, with the goal of making a statement. He coached his team to really pour it on our team. He'd show us.

For the longest time, they were rolling and, essentially, running up the score.  And having fun doing it. We just shrugged.

Then, we scored a run. 

Angrily, he took his team off the field and they left. "We're done." I guess a 18-0 score seemed a lot better to him than 18-1.

A similar thing happened on another night, but the coach left with his team for a different reason. 

Our ball club wasn't playing well that night. The other team got out to a lead and, then, we started chipping away. Eventually, we tied the game up.

Before we could play that next inning to decide the outcome, coach declared "time to go home." 

Rather than see his team lose the game, he was content to go home early and leave with a tie. The ump let him do it. My long-time assistant coach was livid. And our players were also not pleased. They started chanting "the Choppers don't quit."

The other coach was not amused. But he still went home early with his tie game.

Defenders of the Game -
The coaches of one of ourt rival teams liked to preach against the practice of gamesmanship. They were defenders of the game. They did everything the right way. 

Turns out, they were some of the biggest operators. 

One of their favorite tactics was to coach their smallest kids to crouch (thus making for a smaller strike zone) and never swing the bat. Do everything you can to work the walk. Even poor mouth to the umps. (rolls eyes).

I loved the night one of our ace pitchers threw bbs and struck out a bunch of their players just standing there looking!

Another night, when my son was warming up before the game, I found their head coach over "chatting him up" while Paul went through his pre-game routine. (Trying to mess with him, no doubt).

Hope the ump doesn't have a tight strike zone. Gee, that mound looks like of slippery. 

You get the idea.

Needless to say, I interrupted that conversation. As I broke it up, he just grinned and walked away. "Who, me?"

Uh-huh.

I won't say I ran into examples of gamesmanship frequently in my coaching days but, as you see, it did happen. Sorry to say.

For the most part, most of my fellow coaches all had the right approach. They were good teachers and role models. There were just a few who took it all way too seriously.

One protracted challenge from the Mets' manager on Monday brought back some of the most vivid memories of that smaller, second group.

JG