By Robert Whiting (2014)
I am not a big fan of tie games. They may be necessary in games like soccer where the nature of the sport makes it nearly impossible to score a goal. But in baseball, no thank you. Like most baseball fans in North America, I prefer games played all the way to the end, win or lose—like the thrilling 18-inning game the San Francisco Giants and the St. Louis Cardinals played in the National League Division Series.
In Japan, of course, however, ties are part and parcel of the game, which confounds foreign fans and players, and that includes me. In my opinion, they complicate the purity of the final standings and they serve to dilute the drama inherent in close games that go into extra innings.
I find it difficult to understand the rationale usually given for the tie-game system in the NPB, which is that public transportation stops at around midnight, so games should accordingly be stopped at 12 innings. The players certainly don’t have to go home by public transportation (there are team buses), and neither, for that matter, do all of the people in the stands. There are, after all, such things as taxis. So why not keep playing for the benefit of those fans who don’t have to worry about catching the last bus or train home, and decide a winner?
But even if one accepts the public transportation argument, why is there a need to limit games to 12 innings when they start at 2 in the afternoon on weekends, especially when Japan Series games are allowed to go on for up to 15 innings? Strange.
Such limitations can have dire consequences. Case in point: this year, when the first round of the Central League playoffs was ended by what one might call a “Sayonara Tie.” Or rather, perhaps one should say a “Sayonara Called Game.”
In Game #2 of that series, the Hanshin Tigers and the Hiroshima Carp played a hotly contested game that was dramatic and entertaining, full of twists and turns. It was one of the best matches I have seen in a long time. But then, in the top of the 12th, it came to an abrupt halt on a third out routine pop fly, final score: 0-0.
The game was ended and ruled a tie because, under the playoff regulations in place, 12 innings was the most that could be played. Since, under those same playoff rules, a tie was also equivalent to a win, the Tigers, who had taken the first game of the series, were declared its winners—with a record of one win, one tie and one loss in the ‘best two-out-of-three-game’ series—and thereby advanced to the final stage of the Central League Climax Series. It was downright weird.
Japanese baseball is filled with oddities—from an American point of view, that is—but the playoff system may be the worst of all. Lower-seeded teams find themselves in the uncomfortable position of having to play their entire playoff series on the road, starting with a handicap of one loss, with ties and called games counted as wins for the home team.
The Carp finished third, so, under the rules, they had to play with a handicap, just as the Tigers had to play with a handicap in their series versus the Yomiuri Giants, who started with a one-game advantage. Same with the Orix-Nippon Ham winner who faced SoftBank. Only the Japan Series is played on an equal basis. Theoretically, the C.L. or P.L. season champion could play three ties in a row and be declared Climax Series winner.
This contrasts with MLB, where the SF Giants, second in their division and a Wild-Card entry into the 2014 playoffs, played the Washington Nationals, the winningest team in the National League, with no handicap, and managed to prevail.
In Japan, lower-ranked teams in the playoffs have to play perfect baseball to advance, while the pennant winners do not. This year the Hanshin Tigers did just that—advancing to the Japan Series, where they lost to the SoftBank Hawks in 7 games.
I am not saying the American system is perfect. Sometimes the obsession with playing until the end has severe repercussions.
A prime example of this is September 11, 1974, when the St. Louis Cardinals won a marathon night game against the New York Mets at Shea Stadium, after 7 hours 4 minutes and 25 innings, tied for the longest game to a decision in major league history. I was living in New York City at that time. I remember watching the first few innings of the game, which started at 8 p.m., then went out drinking on the Upper West Side with friends. When I stumbled home at 2:30 a.m., the game was still going on and there were only a thousand people left in the stands, left over from a first-inning crowd of some 25,000. Both teams had a day game the following afternoon, so neither side got much sleep. Better in those circumstances, perhaps, to suspend the game and finish it the next day before the regularly scheduled game.
Most MLB fans hate the idea of a tie. And so do the players. As the famous “Animal” Brad Lesley once put it, “A tie is like kissing your sister. What we want is the real thing. A baseball game is supposed to end when it ends.”
They certainly have difficulty understanding the NPB, especially the way things were conducted this October, when you have a team that wins in the post-season without winning and one that loses without losing. And why, for example, have its playoff games played on the same day at the same time, thereby diluting the audience?
League officials, already embarrassed by the baseball-size scandal, need to shape up and do a better job. It is time for a new planning commission.
Tokyo Junkie 