The 5.5 Hole

It's not a normal occurrence.  The fact is, two brothers playing in the Major Leagues is simply abnormal.  Sure, it's been done before.  Brett and Aaron Boone, Chris and Tony Gwynn, Cal and Billy Ripken, Phil and Joe Niekro.  Those are just a few, but consider this; only about 0.5% of high school baseball players are ever drafted by a Major League club.  This doesn't mean they make the 25-man roster.  No, it simply means the odds of even being drafted - and in turn being given the opportunity to ride around on an old bus between cities hours apart - is a mere half a percent.  So, the odds of two brothers both playing Major League Baseball is significantly less.  The odds of two brothers hitting their 100th career home run on the same night?  Almost non-existent.

But it happened.

Justin Upton struck first.  He was facing Kyle Kendrick of the Philadelphia Phillies in the second inning of the Diamondbacks game in Philly last night.  On a 2-0 count, Justin took an 81 mph change up to left field for his 100th career home run.  B.J. hit his about an hour later.  On the first pitch he saw in the fourth inning of his game against the Orioles in Tampa Bay B.J. took a 91 mph cutter from Tommy Hunter to centerfield.

2011 provided some of the best baseball I can remember. Sure my beloved Padres did not have a 90-win season like they did in 2010, nor did they come anywhere close to even sniffing a play-off berth. But the Diamondbacks did. They turned their team around and went from worst to first. The Brewers did, and won the division for the first time since the 80's. The Cardinals overcame a huge deficit in late August to clinch the Wild Card. The Braves collapsed. The Rays reached the postseason for the third time in four years...out of the American League East...with a payroll hovering around $40 million. The Phillies rode the arms of Cliff Lee and Roy Halladay. Justin Verlander carried the Tigers to a division crown, locking up the AL Cy Young in the process (Barring some sort of travesty, of course). The Rangers and their boom sticks once again made the postseason, and once again they reached the World Series, and once again they fell short. The Yankees did what they do. And the Red Sox provided drama fit for daytime television.

2011 marked another pitcher heavy year. There were three no-hitters, and two of them were from unlikely sources. Ervin Santana tossed his no-hitter then promptly became the Angels 1A starter next to Jered Weaver. Francisco Liriano has always had great stuff, but after multiple injuries, there were questions about whether he could make it back. He answered those with his no-hitter this season. Then of course, there was Justin Verlander. Again, AL Cy Young.

2011 marked the first year in the last eleven that Albert Pujols failed to reached a .300 batting average and 100 RBI (he finished at .299 and 99 RBI). It also marked a year in which he had a remarkable recovery, further earning the nickname "The Machine." Pujols broke his right forearm and only missed two weeks.

The 2011 baseball season saw some notable employment changes. Jim Hendry in Chicago was finally let go after the Cubs futility became too much. The Cubs' former GM was credited with almost getting them to the World Series, but also with contracts like Alfonso Soriano's. Marlins manager, Edwin Rodriguez, quit in the middle of the season. After his team fell into a tailspin, he realized he was not the right man for the job. And, like a hero resurrected, Jack McKeon returned to the Florida dugout. Jim Riggleman, the manager of the Nationals, had Washington playing well, the he up and quit. Frustrated over his lame-duck status, Riggleman walked away from managing, maybe forever. Oakland replaced one Bob with another. Bob Geren was fired and Bob Melvin hired. Neither could do much to help that sinking franchise. Finally, Ozzie Guillen was let out of this contract with the White Sox and left the team with the last few games of the season remaining. He will take over the newly named Miami Marlins in 2012.

Baseball in 2011 saw two big trials against former Major Leaguers. Both related to steroids. Barry Bonds was eventually convicted of obstruction of justice after the prosecution could not prove him guilty of perjury. Roger Clemons never really had a trial. After presenting evidence they should not have, the prosectution in the Clemons trial forced a mistrial. Now, they must decide whether to, and how to, re-try Clemons.

This season also saw the deaths of 81 former players. Perhaps most notably were Mike Flannagan and Hideki Irabu's suicides, and Harmon Kilebrew's, Duke Snider's, and Dick Williams' passing.

The 2011 season saw so many things, both good and bad, including the launch of this site. About mid-way through the season, a little blog by some unknown writer popped up. The 5.5 Hole could have floundered and led me to give up. It could have attracted views from only family and close friends, which in and of itself probably would have been enough. But instead, the site attracted many more readers than I could have ever imagined in it's first few months of existence. From the random peaks in page views that I can never seem to explain no matter what amount of analytics I employ, to the constant flow of readers never letting my site go unread for even a day, the introduction of The 5.5 Hole was more successful than I could have predicted. Thank you to everyone who has read, browsed, or heck, even come to the site by mistake. By now you all know how much I love the game of baseball. I also love to write. Some people knit, some people garden, I write a blog. But it's been so much more than a hobby. This has been a passion. With each new article I write, I hope to get better, more interesting, and more informative. I hope you'll join me as the site grows and matures.

I will continue to write during the offseason and I will work on getting more exposure. My goal is to generate discussion. The comments section at the end of each post has been left largely untouched. Like a post-apocalyptic ghost town, the discussion area has been avoided. I will do what I can to increase the page views, provide interesting topics, and facilitate discussion. Because, really, nothing about baseball is one sided.

Thank you all again. I look forward to the future of The 5.5 Hole.

- Justin

With the release of Moneyball over the weekend, talk of baseball's financial system are sure to pop back up. Many will make the argument that without a salary cap, baseball cannot have a competitive balance. However, history seems to prove this theory wrong. We'll take a look year-by-year and overall for the last ten seasons.

YEAR-BY-YEAR

Let's start by a year-by-year analysis for the last ten seasons.

2002: Yankees, Twins, Athletics, Angels, Braves, Cardinals, Diamondbacks, Giants.

2003: Yankees, Twins, Athletics, Red Sox, Braves, Cubs, Giants, Marlins.

Three new teams

2004: Yankees, Twins, Angels, Red Sox, Braves, Cardinals, Dodgers, Astros.

Four new teams

2005: Yankees, White Sox, Angels, Red Sox, Braves, Cardinals, Padres, Astros.

Two new teams

2006: Yankees, Twins, Athletics, Tigers, Mets, Cardinals, Padres, Dodgers.

Five new teams

2007: Red Sox, Indians, Angels, Yankees, Phillies, Cubs, Diamondbacks, Rockies.

Seven new teams

2008: Rays, White Sox, Angels, Red Sox, Phillies, Cubs, Dodgers, Brewers.

Four new teams

2009: Yankees, Twins, Angels, Red Sox, Phillies, Cardinals, Dodgers, Rockies.

Four new teams

2010: Yankees, Twins, Rangers, Rays, Phillies, Braves, Reds, Giants.

Five new teams

2011 (Currently): Yankees, Tigers, Rangers, Phillies, Brewers, Diamondbacks, Braves.

Four new teams

The average number of new teams in the postseason year to year is 4.22. Round that down to four and 50% of play-off teams change each year.

LAST TEN SEASONS

Over the last ten seasons, 24 different teams have made the postseason. With 30 teams, this means only six did not make the play-offs in the last ten years.

The Royals, Pirates, Blue Jays, Orioles, Mariners, and Nationals/Expos are the only teams not to make the play-offs in that time. And even the Mariners made the postseason in 2001.

The Yankees, Red Sox, and Phillies have made the most postseasons in the last ten years, but if we are talking parity, the fact that 24 teams have made the play-offs is the bottom line.


I do not dispute the financial inequities in baseball, but baseball's competitive balance is no different than other sports leagues. With a good general manager and manager, teams can compete regardless of payroll. These teams may not make multiple postseasons, but they continue to make it interesting. In another five years, we may see teams like the Pirates, Nationals, and Royals making the play-offs.

Parity is alive and well in baseball.

As I entered the house, I could hear the familiar sounds of baseball. The Fox Saturday Game of the Week was playing on the living room television. Two things struck me. Those in the house were watching the game, and they cared enough to actually talk about it. The realization was subtle but defining.

I've written many times about baseball's popularity. I've discussed the prominence of football and what baseball needs to do to recover. But here, in this house, I finally realized how far the sport had fallen. This was the picture-perfect All-American summer afternoon. Just not from the present. This was an afternoon made from a time long ago. A full family (grandparents, parents, children, friends, and pets) was gathered at the house for a barbecue. And on the television was baseball. The conversation ranged from play-off hopes to free agent signings. There was talk of misplays in the field and gaudy offensive stats. The day was inherently American with the summer sub burning through the final hours of the day, hot dogs and hamburgers begging for ketchup and cheese, and baseball. And that's what made the realization so powerful.

I turned to my wife as we left and said, "you don't see that anymore." The "that" I was talking about was people watching America's pastime, talking about it, and caring. There is not much difference between what went on there and what was going on in houses across the country. People were enjoying a Saturday afternoon in the waning moments of summer. They were enjoying family and watching sports. But for most, the sport on TV was college football.

I often get lost in the online articles and magazine articles. I get lost in the discussions I search for through an electronic medium. It's easy to forget that in reality the water cooler talk is rarely about baseball. In most cities around the country, the baseball season ended weeks ago. And in all the places where this could have been more obvious, I realized it instead in a house where baseball was prominently displayed in crystal clear high definition.

The surprise was the most telling part. I shouldn't be surprised to find people gathered 'round for a day of baseball and conversation. I should have expected it. But I didn't, and that's a shame.

Whatever changes will be made need to be made soon. Baseball is losing ground and soon won't have any footing left. Let's watch baseball, enjoy family and friends, and turn what is quickly becoming a nostalgic moment into an everyday moment.

After 10 years, I can admit to myself a truth I've tried hard to forget. I can admit I was a teenager more concerned with a girl than a terrorist attack on our country. I can admit, as a high school senior, I made a joke about the attack on my way to home room. I can admit my insensitivity and ignorance. But that all stopped the moment I saw the television. It changed and I matured the moment I saw the billowing smoke, like so many of the victims, reaching out into the New York sky.

There have been many stories about baseball and 9/11. This is mine.

Much like the rest of our country, I was changed that day. I was moved and hurt and saddened and angered. I was depressed and resilient and proud and fearful. I was an American bound not only by faith in recovery and a thirst for justice, but in my need to heal.

My immaturity quickly faded that day. The empty skies, moments of silence, and ever-increasing death toll did that to people. To ease the sickness I felt in thinking of the senseless and immense loss of life, I turned toward something only a sports fan would understand; baseball.

The game was gone for six days. But when it returned, it was like battlefield patch-work for a wounded soldier. It wasn't a permanent fix, but it helped get us through. The New York Mets and New York Yankees stood paramount for obvious reasons. The Mets failed to make the postseason, so New York City's hopes and continued healing rested solely with the Yankees.

The Yankees made it all the way to the World Series, their run seemingly guided by destiny. But they were facing an Arizona Diamondbacks team in just its third year of existence. That team didn't know any better. That team didn't realize the
Hollywood scribes were writing a different story, one that saw the Yankees win the title and help heal the hearts of New Yorkers.

I was living in Arizona at this time and remember that series like it was yesterday. I remember the Diamondbacks pitching dominance. I remember the Yankees comeback. I remember Randy Johnson coming in from the bullpen the day after he started. I remember a tie game in the ninth. Most of all I remember the distraction of a game we played as children, and I remember welcoming it with open arms.

When Luis Gonzalez blooped a single over the drawn in infield, the state of Arizona rejoiced. Yankees fans were left stunned. A walk off hit in the bottom of the ninth in game seven of the World Series is baseball lore. It's what Little Leaguers dream of when they are on the practice fields. It's what fans hope for ever year.

While the magical run was over for the Yankees and the Diamondbacks celebrated into the night, the next day would mark a return to what we were all hiding from. It would mark the return to mourning, questioning, and doubt. But for a month and a half baseball gave us a distraction. For the first time in history we had November baseball, and nothing could have been more beneficial to a grieving nation.

"Freedom itself was attacked this morning by a faceless coward and freedom will be defended." -- President George W. Bush

The first thing you notice is the field. Grass so green it hurts, bases whiter than a pearl, and base paths made of the finest dirt found on this earth. Yes, a trip to the ballpark elicites feeling only baseball can. There's the first pitch, first hit, the first out, and first run. There's the roar of the crowd, the silence of a loss, and the ballad of a sports fan in a non-sports town.

I have been to exactly three baseball games this year. One Minor League game and two Major League games. Each one was great, but I want more. The 130 mile trip to the big league park is prohibitive of many more visits, but that's not the problem. I have been to many parks in my life and experienced many fans, but only during the postseason have I experienced the passion of a collective faith and desire to win.

In towns like Philadelphia, Boston, San Francisco, New York City, and Chicago (where I have experienced two games) the energy starts the second the team takes the field. The passion pours from the stands like a free-flowing fountain. The belief that "this year" could be "the year" is a true belief from start to finish. But in many other cities, in many other ballparks, the passion is lukewarm at best.In many other cities, competing, play-offs, and success just isn't enough.  These are non-sports towns and, in some cases, non-sports states.  That is where I reside.

I live in a college town in which support of the college teams is based on continued success.  Sustained success.  I live in a town that sold out its college basketball arena for 20+ years only to see attendance dip after two mediocre seasons and one missed trip to the NCAA Tournament.  I live in a town who only recently discovered college football, and only now because of three years of sustained success.  I live in a town that once carried a Triple-A baseball club for decades then lost it to dwindling attendance.  A town that built the Triple-A ballpark in the most decrepit, desolate, uninhabitable area and yet still wonders why the fans won't come.  I live in a town once proud of its Spring Training teams, a town that once had three clubs during Spring Training and now has none.  I live in a non-sports town.

And that's my own doing.  I take full responsibility for that.  It just strikes me as strange.  People across this country, across the globe, love sports.  So to find non-sports towns on our map is rare.  To find a place devoid of the joy and madness that sports can bring is strange.  So I watch sports on T.V., I watch them on the internet.  People like me, sports fans in a non-sports town, gather at the local bars to catch games in sports towns.  We sit wishing we were in the stands, wishing we could feel the pulse of excitement with every pitch and every hit.  Us non-sports fans cringe at the empty ballparks, we rejoice at the sold out ones.  We strive to feel the rush of a collective cheer from 45,000 fans.

So those of you in sports towns, enjoy.  Don't take it for granted.  Should your team stumble for a season or two, stand by them.  Should you endure losing season after losing season, still fill the park.  Baseball, unlike any other sport, needs more sports towns, and perhaps it will take sports fans like myself in non-sports towns to make that happen. 

I wrote a three-part series earlier this year outlining my opinion on what baseball needs to do to increase its popularity. In the first part I explored attendance figure and concluded that totals have held pretty steady. Well forget the numbers. If you open a newspaper, go online, or flip on the television it seems doomsdayers are pointing to the fans' complete abandonment of baseball. They will show you pictures of empty ball parks. They will pick and choose teams, citing all-time lows in attendance. They will pull out the smoke and mirrors, and they may even ask Chris Angel to freak your mind.

The fact is, as pointed out in a completely unrelated Sports Illustrated article, average attendance league-wide is down just 14 fans. 14! Since last year how many more people have lost jobs? How many have taken pay cuts? And baseball has only lost an average of 14 fans per game.

If we were to just look at the teams struggling in attendance, of course we will see a problem. But what about the other teams? What about Pittsburgh who, until last month, was drawing more fans on average than they have in a decade. They've had more sell-outs this season than they have since the 90's. What about San Francisco? As of August 10th they had sold out 60 consecutive home games. What about Boston? You'd have to damn near hit the lottery to afford a scalped ticket to the constantly sold-out Fenway Park. How about St. Louis or Minnesota? Or the Angels and Rangers?

It's popular to believe baseball is dying. It's trendy to throw certain teams' attendance figures around as proof of the sport's decline. But popularity and trends are rarely built on honest fact. Think for yourself, do the research, and know that while it's not the most popular sport, baseball is surviving a terrible economy just fine.

Anyone who has ever watched, listened to, or even heard of the game of baseball knows it's a sport driven by statistics. From Ty Cobb's hits to Cy Young's wins to Nolan Ryan's strikeouts to Babe Ruth's home runs, statistics have been as big a part of the game as the game itself. And statistics are constantly evolving. With the introduction of "sabermetrics" in the 1970's the world was introduced to the advanced metric, but the way we have evaluated the game has always been changing. So really, when walks were recognized as a stat, that was an advanced metric at the time. The same is true with saves and holds, or hit-by-pitch. The desire to find value in statistics is nothing new, but as technology grows and allows for deeper analysis, have we lost sight of the game itself?

Watching a baseball game is a wonderful thing. There is so much intensity and passion crammed into a few short moments in the game. If you blink you can miss it. A suicide squeeze or a stolen base can bring fans to their feet, but these are two big no-no's if we look at stats alone. A lot of us no longer see the player getting a jump from first and dashing madly to second. We no longer see the batter squaring around to bunt and angling his bat to poke the ball in just the right direction. Instead we see percentages and numbers churning out in the dust left behind the base stealer. We see calculations and probabilities littering the barrel of the bat during the bunt. And that's fine, but remember to enjoy the game itself.

I love advanced metrics. I am fascinated by the power of numbers in evaluating players and finding value that has previously gone undiscovered. But these stats are not the definitive answer to anything. They are an experiment in science. If Dave Roberts was guided by advanced metrics in the 2004 ALCS, he wouldn't have stole second and it's very likely the Red Sox would have been eliminated.

The point is this; baseball is a game. We are all fans. Sometimes it's fun to put down our excel spreadsheets and calculators and watch the game like we did as kids. Sometimes it's fun to let ourselves be amazed by what these athletes can do. They can hit balls farther than we'd ever dream, they can control a baseball like there's a string attached, and they can chase down balls in the outfield like a gazelle. Analyzing baseball by the numbers is wonderful, but every now and then we should evaluate a player by the way they look. Use the eye test. Don't get lost in the numbers and remember to love the game as a fan too.

With the romanticized notion of father and son's first game together firmly planted in my head, I set off with the family to the ballpark. Nevermind the fact he is four months old and barely knows what his hands are, let alone a baseball diamond. Shortly after settling into our seats it became readily apparent that our son was in fact four months old.

It was a nice thought and inspired dreams of what still lies ahead. Before I know it my son and I will be enjoying games together, and he will actually know what's going on. Soon, I hope to enjoy a game in person with him as much as he seems to enjoy games on television. It's probably the flashing lights and colors more than his enjoyment of televised baseball.

But nonetheless, today was a glimpse into the future. Today was the start of a time honored tradition. One that spans generations and builds die-hard fans for life. But today was also a four month old's first exposure to 30,000 plus screaming fans.

By the bottom of the sixth inning, after countless attempts at sleep only to be interrupted by cheers and jeers, my son could take no more. But he came, he saw, and he experienced. We saw his first double play, first strikeout, first run, and first home run. We sat with him during his first ceremonial first pitch, his first National Anthem, and his first seventh inning stretch (up on the concourse, but still there).

It was a start, and it was an exciting taste of the bond baseball ignites. Give it a year or two. Give it time for the taste to build into a passion. Before I know it, my son and I will be eating hot dogs and peanuts, watching batting practice, and loving baseball together.

Today was a good day.

Buried deep beneath the rubble of perception and failed endeavors, baseball is in a position it has never been before; the edge of irrelevancy.  Maybe that's a little extreme.  After all, there's still the NHL and NBA to always buoy baseball.  However, Major League Baseball is in definite need of some tweaking.

First, we'll address baseball's biggest problem.  The belief that baseball is boring is not a new one, and quiet frankly, it's ridiculous.  Baseball is far from boring.  It is a game full of moments.  Moments that defy odds, shine on the biggest stage, and personify action.  Yet, the perception lives on and grows like a weed rooted deep in the sporting public's mind.

The biggest problem preventing baseball from living up to its exciting potential is television.  Not the games on TV specifically, but the television broadcasters.  If you are a baseball fan already, sit and watch a game with a non-fan.  Just pay attention to the broadcasters and your friend.  Stories of "the guy who dropped nachos" and "that time we bet on who could eat more hot dogs" trumps the reason a runner on first chooses to go on a 3-2 count with only one out, or the reason a fielder takes two steps to the right when a particular batter steps to the plate.  The television cameras pan through the stands, pick out the pretty girls and the kids covered in ice cream, and they flash advertisements for the upcoming Sunday NFL game.

If television were a bit more like radio, the "boring" label would be lessened.  The idea that baseball is not entertaining comes from a lack of understanding.  Many of the people I have watched baseball with for the first time simply did not fully understand the game.  Knowledge leads toward understanding, and understanding brings the excitement.  Football probably has as many intricacies as baseball, but the game itself is straight-forward action.  Tackles and touchdown passes are inherently exciting.  They don't need explaining.  But bunts with runners on first and second with one out need some sort of explaining.  A stolen base in the bottom of the seventh needs explaining.  An intentional walk in a one-run game needs a heck of a lot of explaining.  But you don't get that from television.  Baseball's biggest problem is their television broadcasters.  They treat the games as their own video blogs and forget to teach, inform, and wow their viewers.  Change that, and baseball is on the right path.

Next, another television-induced problem.  People do not watch baseball on television religiously.  Unlike football and basketball, Major League Baseball is shown on so many regional channels, the average fan usually has the choice of his local team or, well, his local team.  Die hard fans will spring for MLB Extra Innings or MLB.tv, but the average joe is going to flip on his Kansas City Royals local broadcast, think all of baseball is a horrid display of mediocrity, and move right along to Dancing With the Stars (sorry Royals fans, a low blow I know).

With more national broadcats, whether they be on ESPN and Fox, or on lesser utilized channels like TNT, TBS, and FX, baseball would benefit.  Competition breeds success.  The local market just has to slap on a couple of cheesy graphics, some upbeat sound effects, and pitch the nightly game to its local fans.  However, with the competition of national broadcasts night in and night out, baseball channels across the board will have to step up their game.

Now how does this lead toward an increase in fan excitement and participation?  Well, we've already established that perception is reality.  With commercial competition, each and every game will have to advertised to its fullest.  The advertisements for the nightly games will show only the best baseball has to offer, and in turn should bring more casual fans.

If you didn't notice, I keep mentioning nightly games.  That leads us to another one of baseball's destructive perceptions.  The games don't matter.  Part of this belief is based on the incredibly long schedule.  However, the schedule is necessary to root out the pretenders and get to the true contenders every season.  The number of games, of course, leads to weekday games.  Those games are the problem.

Whether it be tradition, media contracts, or some other reason, Major League Baseball insists on hosting a countless number of weekday games during the afternoon.  Now, I love afternoon baseball as much as the next guy, but not on a weekday.  The majority of our working population (you know the ones that can afford to go to baseball games and can afford the cable packages to watch them on TV) works during the week.  Each of those afternoon weekday games is lost on the casual fan, thereby limiting baseball's audience to die-hards. 

In combination with more national broadcasts, baseball could easily move their afternoon games to night starts after most people finish work.  They don't have to be 7:05 PM start times, 6:35 PM or some other time would work just as well.  And what would the game be losing? 

It's possible that these are not the be-all, end-all solutions for increasing baseball's popularity, and with the momentum behind the NFL, baseball may never re-capture number one in the hearts of sports fans.  But that's not a reason to continue to be complacent.  Major League Baseball must not stand still while the world passes it by.  Changes are paramount to re-branding the game and attracting new fans.  The fact is sports are a popularity contest, and if you're not number one, you're losing.

America's Pastime is exactly that.  A thing of the past.  This is not to say that the game has completely faded from relevancy, but it has faded.  Once the prominent sport in American society, dominated by suit-clad men shuffling through the gates after a long day's work, baseball has been replaced by football as the most popular sport.

The subtleties of the suicide squeeze, the heroics of late-inning home runs, and the mystique of a 1-0 pitcher's duel no longer seems to quench the American appetite for sport.  Instead, hard-hitting tackles, 50-yard passes, and kick returns are now America's sweetheart.  Football is a great game, wildly entertaining and exciting from start to finish, but it's not baseball.  And it's a shame that the Boys of Summer have been replaced. 

What makes the slide even more frustrating is that Major League Baseball attendance doesn't seem to be the problem.  Teams are still drawing fans.  Rather than an actual problem attracting fans to the ballparks, Major League Baseball has not marketed itself very well.  For those of you who think attendance is dropping drastically in baseball, think again.  Below is and chart with attendance figures from 1998-2010 (1998 is the first year the league went to 30 teams).







As you can see, after a significant decline in attendance in 2002 and 2003, baseball recovered and has consistently hovered around 72 million fans.  Many news outlets will take the 2009 and 2010 figures and point to the declines, but the fact is  2007 and 2008 were extraordinary years. 

So with baseball's attendance actually higher than when the league first expanded to 30 teams, drawing fans does not seem to be a problem.

In the next part of this three part series, we will examine the perception problem faced by Major League Baseball. 

Home runs are exciting. They can shift momentum or bring a crowd to its feet. They can set records, and they end games. Yet there has been something so dark about home runs up until recently.

The home run race between Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa of 1998 brought fans back to baseball after so many had left following the 1994 strike. But those two also contributed to another black spot in baseball history. Steroids destroyed the competitive balance and eliminated all meaning behind home run figures.

Fortunately, baseball's much belated steps to eliminate steroids have worked This has ushered in a new era of competition. Pitching is king.

Let's take a look at home run figures in recent years.

2004 - 5,451
2005 - 5,017
2006 - 5,386
2007 - 4,957
2008 - 4,878
2009 - 5,042
2010 - 4,613
2011 - 2,106 (half way mark) 4,212 estimated total.

This leads me to one conclusion. Everyone was cheating. Now, obviously there are players who have always been clean, but one look at the numbers tells me a lot of players were using steroids.

Prior to 2005, there was no punishment for steroid use. Baseball finally implemented a testing and punishment system in the beginning of 2005, then made it more harsh at the end of 2005.

As you can see, the home run totals have been on a steady decline (except for an anomaly in 2006 and 2009) since the end of the '04 season. We are on pace for 1,000 fewer home runs in 2011 than 2004. 1,000!

Pitchers have benefited from the reduction in steroid use (I won't say elimination since players like Manny Ramirez prove arrogance can still trump penalty). The 2004 season saw an average of 716 earned runs per team. In 2010 that number was down to an average of 653 earned runs per team.

Pitchers do not have an advantage now, they are simply playing on a level playing field. And yes, I am aware plenty of pitchers were busted for steroids. But there is a big difference between a little extra juice behind a fast ball and a little extra juice off a batted ball.

We have entered into a golden era of baseball. The pitcher's era. Maybe I'm crazy, but I'll take six no-hitters in one year over a 70 home run season.

Johnny Bench, Yogi Berra, Carlton Fisk, Roy Campanella, and Gary Carter can breath a sigh of relief. They will be able to retain the title as some of the best catchers in history with little to no competition from current and future players. Their statues can be roped off at Cooperstown and the position of catcher can be left off the ballot for future Hall of Fame votes.

Catcher is one of the most demanding positions on the diamond. And those who play it well for their entire career are a dying breed. Injuries are inevitable. So when a team strikes gold in a talented catcher, they need to protect him. Unfortunately, money rules all. Not many teams are going to invest hundreds of millions on a player susceptible to injury who plays 140 games a year or less.

Teams are more willing to pay less and implement a platoon at catcher. This limits the wear and tear on each catcher and generally gets the job done. But what are we missing out on?

Joe Maur could have been one of the greatest catchers of all-time. But we will never know. Because of the investment the Twins made in him, Maur will soon be scooping out short-hops at a first base bag near you. He's not your prototypical first baseman. He doesn't hit for power. He averages one home run every 39 at bats. That's about one every ten games. But he's tall, and first base seems to be a easier transition for a catcher than outfield.

It hasn't yet happened with Buster Posey, but the whispers started almost as soon as his leg bent backward under the force of Scott Cousin's collision. Obviously Posey will need time to heal before talks of a position change heat up, but injuries usually ignite these conversations.

The catch-22 of it all is the fact that I agree with moving a valued player away from catcher. It's sad to say, and all things being equal, I'd rather see Joe Maur and Buster Posey gunning down runners deep into their thirties. But circumstance won't allow it.

If Joe Maur is going to live up to his contract, he can't be on the bench. No one wants to see a $184 million cheerleader. If Buster Posey is going to be the face that washes away Barry Bonds' stain, he needs to be on the field.

My romanticized view of baseball, its history, and greatness tells me to leave the catchers where they are. But my desire to be a fan and see great players have long career tells me that the abuse catchers take in this "non-contact" sport has finally caught up with them.