Sliding Into Problems
You're supposed to be out if you over-slide a base — but what if for a century, you were safe?
On Wednesday, twice in the span of a few innings, the Mets fell victim to a relatively new quirk of baseball: the replay-reviewed slide. First, Jonathan Villar’s steal of third became an out after replay showed that as he slid, he briefly lost contact with the base in the transition between hand and foot. Then Jacob deGrom hit what looked like a hustle double, but was called out on review for a similar reason: as he stood up after his slide, he briefly ever-so-briefly left the base, and was tagged out.
Slides like these have always been a disputed topic in arguments about instant replay. Critics of reviewing plays like these say that there’s no reason that replay should change calls that were made one way for centuries: if you’re easily safe at second, they say, you shouldn’t be called out just because you came off the base an inch during your slide the way runners always have. On the other side, meanwhile, there’s a simple counterargument: if you get tagged off the base, you’re out. No need to argue any further: those are the rules, like them or not.
So who’s right? Well, for starters, it’s not as simple as those who favor the out call like to paint it. “If you’re out, you’re out” sounds nice — but what if, before the last few years, you’d been safe for a century?
Replay reviews have revealed that runners, when they slide headfirst, often hold the base with an outstretched hand, then, as they slide past the base, transition to holding it with a foot. Often, there’s a slight gap between the hand leaving the base and the foot hitting it. Supporters of replay in these situations say that’s the end of it: that means the runner is off the base, and can be tagged out.
But that’s the opposite of what replay was supposed to do. Players have slid like that for decades, and until a few years ago, if their outstretched hand beat the throw to the base, they were safe. They still came off the base for a fraction of a second as they switched between hand and foot — but since it was far too small a gap for umpires to notice, they were called safe.
They were called safe so consistently and for so long that it became part of baseball strategy: if you raced for the next base, slid headfirst, and got your hand in ahead of the tag, you were safe. Obviously, you couldn’t over-slide the base by five feet, but if you slid in and transitioned from holding the base with your hand to your foot quickly enough that even a close-by umpire couldn’t see the gap, you were safe. It basically became baseball precedent: that kind of slide was approved.
Now, of course, there’s replay. Umpires can examine enhanced, ultra-HD, slow-motion video, and it’s obvious that many slides take runners briefly off bases. But that doesn’t mean that “out” is the correct call. Replay is supposed to help umpires correct obviously wrong calls: the replay movement gained lots steam following Jim Joyce’s blown call that ruined Armando Galarraga’s perfect game. What it’s not supposed to do is change the way the game is played. A play that was called “safe” for decades, and looks obviously safe to the naked eye, shouldn’t be reversed to “out” just because it’s an out on 4K video.
Imagine if the NBA adopted increased replay review, and it turned out that high-def, slow-motion replay revealed that the way NBA players dribble is actually illegal. Or say the NFL adopted it, and noticed that there were six uncalled holding penalties every play. Should the NBA defer to the results of the replay and call multiple travels every possession? Should the NFL throw six flags for holding every play?
No, they shouldn’t. In fact, they should go the opposite way: they should recognize that the game has been shaped by the fact that officials can’t notice every single tiny detail, so to subject every single tiny detail to replay review is to officiate things that have never been officiated before. In the process, it changes the way the game is played — in baseball’s case, it changes it in a bad way, disincentivizing runners from hustling for an extra base or trying to steal — in ways it was never supposed to.
It’s easy to just say “if you’re out, you’re out” and leave the argument behind. But in reality, the argument is much more complicated than that. What if you’re out today, but you were safe for the last century? It’s always worth considering that maybe it means something to be safe for a century, even if today has changed its mind. Maybe, in other words, the last century was right, and today is wrong.