A zoning ruling to preserve baseball


by Furman Bisher, The Atlanta Journal and Constitution
February 4, 2001

ATLANTA -- Down in the underbelly of Turner Field, class was assembled. Camp Leo has no campus, no alma mater, no diplomas to offer, though the headmaster does wear a shirt with "Notre Dame" across the chest. Professor Leo Mazzone is preparing the Atlanta Braves pitching staff to meet the new century with joy and celebration, for with its arrival comes a directive that the Strike Zone shall be observed as ordered in "Official Baseball Rules."

Hooray and hallelujah! At last!

"They must be serious," Mazzone said. "They're having a preseason camp for umpires to get familiarized."

"The Strike Zone is that area over home plate the upper part of which is a horizontal line at the midpoint between the top of the shoulders and the top of the uniform pants, and the lower level is a line at the hollow beneath the kneecap."

So reads the definition under Section 2.00 of the rule book. Or, more coarsely expressed, "From the knees to the nipples."

That's the rule. Instead, umpires have been making their own strike zones with no admonishment. Not only has it varied from league to league, but from umpire to umpire.

Over the last two seasons, major leagues have averaged 10.2 runs per game. That's the highest in 63 years. Batters have been getting the upper hand, mainly from umpires arbitrarily inflicting their own strike zones.

That's as much a reason for the splurge of home runs as the "juiced-up" ball, probably more.

Mazzone isn't so much concerned with the strike zone now as with arms and delivery and other subtle mechanics, such as putting the pitch where it's aimed. Truly enforced, the old rule gives pitchers more room to work the hitter, but to be a pitcher instead of a "thrower," old theorists say one must aim at a three-inch target.

"Watching some of these ESPN Classics of old games, I see pitchers getting the high calls," Mazzone said, "the way it should have been all along. It won't change pitching styles, especially of Tom Glavine and Greg Maddux, but some could add a new pitch."

Among the benefits to pitchers and fans, it should improve earned-run averages, increase the number of pitchers going the distance and cutting into game time. Nothing appeals to the purist more than a real pitching duel, nine innings of 2-1 baseball instead of the home-run fest. We should see more of those.

Mazzone's class isn't celebrating yet. Some are coming back from pain and inactivity. Most promising prospect out of the farm system is the Australian left-hander, Damian Moss. After elbow ligament replacement surgery, he spent the better part of two seasons in recovery. Last season he was 9-6 at Richmond with an impressive ERA. His 123 strikeouts in 160 innings were offset somewhat by 106 walks, so concentration is on control.

The season of 2000 was a washout for Kevin McGlinchy, who had a remarkable rookie year coming out of the bullpen. Between the Braves and the Gulf Coast Rookie League, he worked only 27 innings, and none without pain.

"It was just above the right bicep," he said. "They told me it was tendinitis."

He went to Puerto Rico, where he had pitched himself onto the 1999 roster, but the pain persisted. Absolute inactivity was ordered as the last resort.

"That's the hardest regimen for players to follow," Dr. Joe Chandler said, "total inactivity. They strain at the leash. But Kevin is back and throwing well, without pain. We cross our fingers."

Not a lot of prospects are ready to make such a leap as McGlinchy did two years ago, all the way from Danville 97's to the mother club.

Jason Marquis was effective at one stretch, then tapered off last season. He's back. They're also looking at a long, lean kid named Matt McLendon, 10-7 between Myrtle Beach and Greenville. But the pick of the lot still looks to be Moss.

The Aussie didn't Down Under for the offseason. Instead, he was wed in December and is spending the winter in his bride's hometown, Dublin.

Georgia, not Ireland.

In his dreams, Mazzone still has visions of another Steve Avery, at age 21 an 18-game winner, star of the postseason 10 years ago. Oh, he has his Avery, the real Steve, but now approaching 31 and trying to get a grip on what got away.