Baseball is a constantly evolving sport.
When I was young, there were no pitchers; there was a holder-stick that you hit the ball off. The next year, the stick had been replaced with a mustache-man who yelled encouragement at you as he lobbed the ball gently over the plate.
After that, some kid on the other team started whipping the ball as hard as he could at your nuts. After that, I stopped playing baseball.
Returning to the sport after all these years, it’s surprising how much has changed. More surprising: how much has stayed the same.
ESPN Baseball Tonight captures the essence of what it is to play America’s pastime. It is just as frustrating and demoralizing as I remember it.
I strongly advise that, before you fire up ESPNBT, you pound a couple down, shake a couple out, or do whatever it is you do to keep from going to jail on a regular basis. Because listen:
These cocksuckers swing every fuckin’ time and the ump wont call a strike. Piss-nuts! It makes me want to bite my own teeth.
They know they’re not going to hit it, but they do a little swing and say, “Oh, I wasn’t swinging, Mr. Umpire, I was pretending the bat was my penis.” I don’t believe you!
I read over the (ridiculously fluffy) MLB rules  and the only rule that seems to have anything to do with this is rule 2.00, which states that it is a strike if the pitch is “struck at by the batter and is missed.”
Let’s look at the evidence:
Both of these pitches were missed by the batter and called balls. I call balls.
I’m glad you agree.
Whenever the ball is hit, the game decides that I should really try to get it with my infielders, even if the ball is hit into left field. Only after the ball hits the ground a few times does the game realize that Robbie Outfield is like two feet from it. Literally every hit involves me digging the ball out of the hole it made in the bleacher wall.
The only sounds the game designers have deemed necessary are the crack of the bat, the organ music (which serves only to heighten the players annoyance at being down five points after the first inning), and the ump yelling unintelligibly (when someone is struck out he says, “the wiff,” which sounds like slang for “punani”) . This means that, unless someone gets a hit or a call is made, the game is played in silence. Authentic!
The point is, this game gives the player the experience of playing this oft-mistaken-for-athletic sport. It’s so accurate, it’s not even fun.