Kovacevic: The pitch clock alone makes baseball must-watch again

SARASOTA, Fla. -- To be excruciatingly clear, my first in-person experience with Major League Baseball's new pitch clock wasn't exactly entertaining. Nine total hits, three for extra bases, two total runs and not even a stinking result, as the Pirates and Orioles agreed to a nine-inning 1-1 tie in their Grapefruit League exhibition Friday night at old Ed Smith Stadium.

And yet, I couldn't take my eyes off it ... because I couldn't afford to.

Time of game: Two hours, 18 minutes.

This despite seven pitchers being used from the Pittsburgh side, six from the Baltimore side and a bottom of the ninth inning that wouldn't have been needed, obviously, had the visitors prevailed. The first eight innings alone breezed by at two hours sharp.

It wasn't any anomaly, either: The average spring training game, through all Grapefruit and Cactus League action as of Thursday, has taken two hours, 37 minutes. That's 26 fewer minutes than the average from all spring games in 2022. For the Pirates, specifically, all seven of their games here have been over in less than three hours.

God Bless America, I still can't believe I witnessed it. 

And there are still people unconvinced? And trying to concoct ways to adjust the rules, in particular to prohibit plate appearances or innings or even games getting ended by a pitch-clock violation?

Here's my three-step counter: 

1. Read the rules.
2. Prepare accordingly.
3. Get weeded out if you fail.

In the Baltimore first inning, Vince Velasquez, the 30-year-old free-agent signee who was essentially promised a spot in the rotation by Ben Cherington, committed such a violation in his spring debut. That handed Anthony Santander a one-out walk, after which Ryan Mountcastle would double him home with a dart into the left-field corner.

In all Velasquez would run up a pitch count of 31 that inning before settling in with a 1-2-3, 11-pitch second.

"After that walk, it kind of got in my head a little bit," he'd allow later in the clubhouse. "I felt like I was rushed a little bit. Second inning was a new inning, so I knew I had to kind of bear down and execute."

Mm-hm. He began to figure it out. Meaning that, unlike in the first inning, when he wasn't even checking catcher Kevin Plawecki's signs until seven or eight seconds were showing on the clock, he was now firing away with as many as 14 seconds showing.

In the Baltimore third inning, with David Bednar on the mound, Mountcastle fouled off two pitches, took a third for a ball and was then emphatically called out before the fourth pitch by home plate umpire Emil Jimenez for taking too long to get into the box. 

End plate appearance. End inning. The planet seemed to stay on its axis.

Same thing a couple nights ago up in Bradenton when Tucupita Marcano was whiffed in 20 seconds or the same time it takes Usain Bolt to sprint to gold:

Look, no one needs to hear from me how baseball was killing itself with its plodding pace, plus its predictability with every outcome seemingly being a home run, strikeout or walk. It'd become beyond boring, deathly dull at times. And no, not just when the local franchise is limping through another 100-loss summer.

But no sport loves to agonize over itself like this one and, sure enough, even once results in the minor leagues last year powerfully illustrated all the pluses of the pitch clock, the shift ban and other advents that Rob Manfred did well to shove through the process in the recent labor lockout, there've been countless complaints and navel-gazing columns by the national media about how there should be this exception or that exception.

Sorry, but that's crap. Baseball was my first love as a child and yeah, it was the nation's original pastime, but it's never anywhere near as special as it often purports to be. When a player violates a clock regulation in the NFL, NHL or NBA, the rule's the rule. Doesn't matter when it's violated or how, there's a flag, a trip to the box or a couple free throws that follow.

Purists? What about the self-dubbed purists?

Anyone who'd call themselves such a thing couldn't be taken seriously without first acknowledging that this is the pace at which baseball was played for a century-plus before all the crotch-scratching, nose-picking, velcro-snapping, resin-tossing players screwed it up for the sport as a whole. And now, with the game losing fans nationwide for reasons that have nothing to do with payroll or Bob Nutting, it's well past time for the boomerang effect.

When Bill Mazeroski launched into history with the greatest home run of all time at 3:36 p.m. on Oct. 13, 1960, the official scorer at Forbes Field could record in his book that the time of game was 2:37. Despite 19 total runs, 24 total hits and nine total pitchers used.

That, my friends, is pure baseball. That's how it's done. And the best of the best will need to incorporate pace into their repertoire, just as everyone else had forever.

Now, will there be problems?

Oh, bet on that.

I had a semi-serious question for Derek Shelton here before this game in asking if he and his staff had yet encountered any quality loopholes in the pitch count alone. Kind of like teams already are circumventing the shift ban by simply sliding one of their three outfielders into a targeted area just behind the infield dirt.

The manager laughed and replied, "S---, there's already about 30. I think every day we're learning loopholes."

He paused and added, "I cannot tell you how many people have said to me, whether it's players or staff members, thank God we put this in when spring training started because if we would have started this March 15th, it would have been crazy. Or to start the season. I think the biggest thing that Major League Baseball did was putting it in right from the get-go. Heck, we had a conversation today about something that I don't think anybody had thought about. And I'm not going to tell you what it is, but it was based on what just happened in the our game yesterday against New York."

He wasn't about to give that up, but he did proceed.

"I think there's a couple of things that have been important: We put it in right away, and the fact that we've had our minor-league staff members around us, because they've lived it. So we're able to ask questions throughout the game with how it's going and how we're going to be able to function."

Unsurprisingly, the players who spent time in the minors in 2022 have been at a massive advantage so far this spring. I couldn't help but think of that in the Pittsburgh first inning upon seeing Ji Hwan Bae single up the middle -- something he told me a week ago he'd be doing a lot in 2023 because of the shift ban -- then steal second effortlessly while timing Baltimore's 35-year-old pitcher Kyle Gibson, then score on a Jack Suwinski single.

"We're seeing minor-league players who've played under the rules, not just in our games but in the games that we've watched, they're exploiting it," Shelton would say. "Because they know. They're paying attention to things that major-league players have not."

Paying attention shouldn't be anyone's radical concept. Not for the participants, and not for the observers, either.

This is hardly scientific, but each time I'd glance around the Orioles' spring home during play -- and the press box is pretty much at the same level -- the overwhelming majority of the 5,749 fans' eyes were focused on pitcher and batter. Because if they'd look away or let the mind wander, as we've all witnessed now for years in stadiums, they risk actually missing something.

I wasn't an exception. Not going to lie: I've developed a routine in baseball writing where, unless it's a meaningful moment, I'll await the crack of the bat to look up from the laptop. If it's in play, I'm on it. If it's foul, I'm right back to the keyboard.

But this one ... let's just concede that I missed both of those umpire calls I mentioned and was forced to ask a Bradenton-based reporter for help.

Hey, I'll adjust. It's worth it.

PIRATES

Henry Davis playfully takes a photo of Endy Rodriguez in the visitors' dugout Friday evening in Sarasota, Fla.

• Alex Stumpf has a bunch more on Velasquez.

• Again, the game itself was a dud. From Velasquez spraying in the first to the final out, the pitching was meh, capitalizing mostly on Baltimore hitters trying to launch everything to the moon. The Orioles had five hits, struck out eight times, walked four times. Blah.

• Of special interest was top pitching prospect Quinn Priester's spring debut, but that fit right in: His scoreless sixth saw a sharp single off a dangling curve, a walk and far, far too much reliance on the soft stuff. That'll fly in Altoona, but it won't even in Indianapolis. He'll need to pound four-seamers.

• Bae's slick at second. Smooth footwork. Between his ability to play there and anywhere in the outfield, plus his offensive skill set being best suited for the new rules ... man, it'd be nice if there's a way to take him north.

• Question I had for Shelton about competition, followed by a terrific answer:

Been fun watching him grow in this regard. And yeah, it matters. Communicating's a critical component to a manager's job.

• Liover Peguero badly misjudged a routine bouncer his way at short. It was striking. Not even in an isolated event something that'd be expected from a top infield prospect.

• Bryan Reynolds is 0 for 6 to open the spring, but he absolutely smoked an out to deep right. Thought for sure it was gone off the bat.

• The Saturday game's up in Clearwater, Fla., against the Phillies. I'll be there. Rich Hill's on the hill. First pitch at 1:05 p.m. 

• If anyone needs me in the interim, I'll be bowing at the Altar of Pitch Clock.

• Thanks for reading my baseball stuff.