If you haven’t heard of Major League Baseball’s sudden abundance of no-hitters, or if you’ve heard sparingly about it but want to know what’s happening, here’s what’s happening:
There are suddenly a lot of no-hitters.
That’s the crux of it. The record for the number of no-hitters in a season is seven or eight, depending when you draw the line historically. We’ve already seen at least six. Seven if you count Madison Bumgarner’s seven-inning no hitter in a double header. Eight if, I don’t know, is Drew Smyly or Vince Velasquez a funnier starter to throw one tonight?
It seems something is going on. It’s not absolutely clear what’s going on, but it seems like the answer to, “Is something going on?” is probably, “Yes. Something’s going on.” There are a few candidates for what that something is.
One is the changed baseball, which was changed such that it doesn’t fly as far in an effort to increase balls in play. Why do the people with the power to change the baseball want more balls in play? They think it’s more exciting. I agree. Baseball has been moving more towards a batting cage sort of game lately: More home runs, strikeouts, and walks compared to everything else. And while home runs are fun, they can also be a bit like no hitters—part of the fun is the rarity. Triples are exciting too. So are doubles. So are rallies. The line of thinking behind this idea—the idea that the changed baseball is increasing the number of no hitters—is that the people with the power to change the baseball accidentally made it harder to hit. The evidence? Strikeouts continue to rise. “Wouldn’t they have thought of this?” you might ask. The answer should be, “Yes,” but with Major League Baseball’s organizational incompetence rather legendary these days (the current commissioner once sincerely referred to the World Series Trophy as just a “piece of metal” in explaining why he didn’t think taking it away from a team that cheated would mean anything), it’s possible the answer is, “No.” Think of the person you have encountered who was the worst you have ever encountered at their job. Now double that. Now put that person in charge of one of the most significant sporting leagues in the world. Behold: Rob Manfred, who may or may not be a fine person but is the worst baseball commissioner imaginable not named Tony La Russa (actually, La Russa’s loathing of change might be better—jury’s out without a test to see).
Another candidate is that this is just the strikeout naturally rising. Pitchers are getting better (an important point which shouldn’t be undersold but I am about to undersell, so let me just again say that pitchers are getting a lot, lot better at throwing hard and throwing with movement and throwing strategically), and hitters have learned over the last twenty years that strikeouts aren’t actually that bad, or at least that the things you do to avoid striking out can sometimes, on the aggregate, hold you back more than the risk you run if you approach your at-bat having accepted that you might, indeed, strike out. The humor of this explanation is that for one hundred years, we just kind of approached the strikeout rather dumbly. It was something to avoid at all costs, and walks were just the product of an errant pitcher, and it wasn’t until much later than it should have been that people said, “Wait a minute, if you take more pitches you might get on base more often, and if you swing harder, you might hit home runs, and if you walk and hit home runs, you’ll score more runs over a season, and if you score more runs over a season, you’ll score more runs in individual games, and if you score more runs in individual games, you’ll win more, and that means you’ll strike out more but if you can strike out in exchange for wins why don’t you do it?” This explanation, in other words, implies that the actual rules of baseball are broken. That a strikeout should be two outs, or something not that extreme but of that nature. The strikeout is not punishment enough for striking out.
A third is the shift. Defenses are getting better at positioning themselves in the places where the ball is the most likely to be hit. This combines with the strikeout math to make striking out even less of a bad thing. If it’s more likely that you’ll be out if you put a ball in play, putting a ball in play is less attractive. Better to hit it over everything when you can, even if it means striking out more. Again, this would imply that for a century, we played baseball in a very dumb manner, with our defenders positioned inefficiently. This is a funny implication.
Overall, it’s probably a bit of all of these things, and a bit of other things we aren’t listing here (pine tar, anyone?). Natural trends have collided with a poorly-thought-out attempt to reverse natural trends, or a well-thought-out-but-painful one in which it’s going to take some time for hitters to adjust and in the meantime we’re going to see twenty no hitters this year.
Are we really going to see twenty no hitters? I don’t know. Nobody knows. It seems rather likely we’ll break the record, perhaps as early as next week. But Major League Baseball could swap back in the old ball on us, or luck could have been breaking the no hitter’s way and might stop breaking that way, or the three teams that have combined to be the victims of all six nine-inning no hitters (Texas, Cleveland, and Seattle) could decide to change their approach at the plate in a way that manifests more hits into existence.
Does it matter?
It’s hard to say.
For a lot of people, it does. No hitters are sacred. No hitters should be rare. Making them common makes them less valuable. This is one of the reasons people dislike the steroid era. It effed up the record books. But the record books, as many will note, are always effed up. Last year, a pandemic necessitated an abridged regular season. Two decades ago, hundreds of players were aided by massive amounts of chemicals they’d inserted into their bodies. Four decades ago, amphetamine usage (“greenies” were what they were called) was commonplace (back to the chemicals there). Six decades ago, the mound was fifty percent taller and there was no designated hitter in the American League. Eight decades ago, there wasn’t a single Black baseball player playing Major League Baseball.
Some rule changes have come down the pipe in recent years, and more are likely on their way. These rules will change baseball, just as all those other rules or accepted practices changed baseball. The record books will be effed up, just as they always have been. We’re never comparing apples to apples, even if baseball gives us the greatest illusion of all the sports that that’s what’s happening.
In the meantime, enjoy the no hitters. Maybe try to go see one in person, so you can cross that item off your bucket list. Lance McCullers pitches against the Rangers on Saturday if you can get to Texas.
