Rewritten Rules

When San Diego Padre Fernando Tatis, Jr. sent a 3-0 pitch flying over the outfield wall the other night, he violated an unwritten rule of baseball. It wasn’t an unspoken rule. Had that been the case, we’d have never heard of it. Thankfully, someone somewhere said something to put a stop to such an unholy display of sacrilegious swinging. Apparently, the phenom had the “take” sign from the third base coach. This could’ve been a product of clear miscommunication. Because Tatis, Jr. did end up taking the pitch – he just happened to take it over the fence. 

Many don’t see the point in enforcing unwritten rules. We have enough written rules, they say. They’re not wrong. But doesn’t someone have to protect the pastime’s petty norms? And who better to do so than an unelected group of social media pharisees, griping about the sport’s sanctity? Their objection was rooted in the score – the game was a blowout at the time. How dare Tatis, Jr. give maximum effort. I know after lunch on a typical weekday, I loosen my tie, glaze my eyes and accept that there’s zero chance I’ll produce anything remotely resembling quality work. Fernando could learn a thing or two from this lack of ethic.

 

He should’ve been a couple spritzers deep by his final at-bat, plainly uninterested in the contest and ready for slumber. Seeing millionaires dejected by a single act of athletic brilliance is a sight no one should have to witness. These are adults, humiliated by their own poor play. Home runs, as a rule, are deeply unfair. They rarely give outfielders the chance for someone to make a catch. If Tatis, Jr. were a man of conviction he would’ve slapped a Baltimore chopped inside the park homer after fouling off a series of meat balls.

 

But baseball isn’t the only sport with an unwritten code of conduct. In golf, those little ball chasers unlucky enough to step on a squirrel during play must eat the fairway rodent before concluding their round or else face widespread condemnation.

 

Cyclists must never ring their bell. To do so, even along the Pyrenees amid heavy traffic and torrential rain, would be a greater violation than running an organized steroid ring.

 

Football players may only jump into the stands in the back of the end zone under three conditions: It’s snowing; they’re members of the Green Bay Packers; at least one cameraman has a really good shot of the whole thing.

Soccer players who fall down more than fifty times in a single game must sleep on the field, in the dirt and the muck after the game and “think about what they’ve done.” They aren’t allowed to leave until they realize the error of their ways and figure out other methods of trickery. (For what it’s worth, the number used to be twenty five, but the league found that practice far too widespread to enforce).

 

Basketball players who don’t slap five after missing a free throw are destined for a career of wedgies, spills and other unexplained bouts of awkwardness.  

 

In hockey, all dental work must be done by a quite eccentric French-Canadian Zamboni operator named Jacques without anesthesia.

 

Maintaining the toothy theme, darts are not for flossing and pro dart players should know that to use one to remove an errant poppyseed may derail their career in ways missing the bullseye never could.

 

Old guys playing pétanque must always open their second bottle of wine before finishing their first. Not to do so would run the risk of “vivre au sec” - living dry. 

Sports aren’t about having fun, as much as they are about following rules. Otherwise, why even have foul territory or umpires? You could make things up as you went along. Without rules, sports are anarchy. The next thing would be hatless ballplayers throwing cantaloupes to bored hitters in lawn chairs swinging beach umbrellas. Nobody wants to see that. Not even Gallagher.