by Tracy Ringolsby

Comment

And they did it with a lot more oomph than the half-hearted, postgame "charge" Milwaukee first baseman Prince Fielder staged toward the Dodgers clubhouse after he was hit on the right thigh by a pitch thrown by Los Angeles reliever Guillermo Mota last week.

In recent years, however, players have had the ability to take care of matters on their own stripped away by upper management. The upshot is a whole lot of weak-acted moments of machismo that do little other than get players suspended and fined.

Now if the fine money were to be used to subsidize revenue sharing and help out the needy teams, maybe it would have some merit, but that's a subject for another day.

Baseball has spent so much time trying to shove the beanball wars out of the public vision that it has made a spectacle out it, the game suffering a black eye while players rarely even connect with each other.

"They don't understand how the game was played," said Colorado Rockies hitting coach Don Baylor. "The rules have changed and it has taken away aggressiveness from the brushback or breaking up the double play. When players were able to handle it themselves it was taken care of. Umpires weren't put in the middle of things. There weren't warnings. And there wasn't a lot of public posturing."

Now, as if the Fielder fiasco wasn't silly enough, loose cannon White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen took time out on Sunday to announce that if feels one of his players is purposely hit by a pitch, he'll have two players on the other team hit in retaliation. Remember, the bigger the bark the smaller the bite.

"What happens now is a warning is given out, which means the situation isn't taken care of," said Baylor. "Then the situation festers, and the emotions get out of hand."

Blame it on money.

St. Louis hitting coach Hal McRae does.

"The rules of the game have changed because of the player salaries," said McRae. "Each team has a player or players it doesn't want to get hurt. The league is stricter on knockdowns, and so there's no chance to retaliate. It used to be the players handled the situation, but now it is the league and the umpires.

"I wouldn't say this is better, but this is the way it is, so we have to adjust."

It's become such an area of concern that last week St. Louis pitcher Brad Thompson was suspended for three games, and he didn't even hit a batter. He threw a pitch over the head of Mets third baseman David Wright.

"The irony is pitchers were throwing at hitters back before hitters even wore helmets, and it was left up to the players to handle," said McRae.

Now, hitters wear helmets and padding, and if a pitch comes close they wear a scowl.

And old-school umpires were comfortable with it the old way.

The Rockies had a game at Montreal on May 28, 1994. Pedro Martinez, who had a headhunter reputation, was pitching for Montreal and knocked down Rockies first baseman Andres Gallaraga in the top of the third inning. Home plate umpire Frank Pulli, aware that Martinez was leading off the bottom of the third, did not issue a warning. He was going to give Rockies pitcher Marvin Freeman a chance to send a message back to Martinez.

Freeman, however, chose to throw sliders, low and away, striking out Martinez, and earning the ire of Pulli, "who felt he was shown up," according to one of Pulli's contemporaries. "Frank's old school. He wanted to give the players a chance to take care of things, and Marvin embarrassed him."

Nobody condones headhunting. Nolan Ryan, who was known to send more than a few messages to hitters who would drop down bunts on him in the later years of his career, is now president of the Texas Rangers. His team made that point last week when it released Vicente Padilla, primarily because he hit 49 batters in less than four seasons with the Rangers.

During his career, Baylor was hit by a pitch 267 times, a major-league record that Craig Biggio (285) eventually broke. Baylor charged a mound only three times. Two targets were Dick Pole and John Denny, who threw at Baylor's head. The other was Dennis Leonard of Kansas City.

"He hit me the first pitch after Sal Bando homered on a 3-0 pitch," recalled Baylor. "When the pitcher doesn't even look in for a sign, you knew you were going to get hit. George Brett and Buck Martinez came running up, trying to keep peace. When they left I went to the mound. The Oakland fans made so much noise, Leonard figured out what was happening. He took off, right for the Oakland dugout. Billy North and some of my other teammates got to him before I did."

That, however, was the exception for Baylor. He normally relied on more subtle means of getting even. Like McRae, if Baylor felt he was intentionally hit, he would quietly head to first base, and then, at the first opportunity, would head for second base, where he would make the second baseman or shortstop, whichever was covering, pay the price.

"They'd go back to the bench and get all over the pitcher," said Baylor. "It was an accepted part of the game. I was traded from Baltimore to Oakland and we were playing Baltimore. Two of my best friends were (Orioles second baseman) Bobby Grich and (shortstop) Mark Belanger. One game I got hit by a pitch and when I get to first base, they are looking at each other, and then looked at me, shaking their heads. They knew what was coming.

"You didn't have to charge the mound, and hurt your team because you were going to be suspended. The message was delivered by the infielders, and the game went on."

McRae's slides into the bases were so well-known that baseball adopted what is known as the Hal McRae Rule in 1979, prohibiting players from using roll blocks to slide into a base. The decision came after McRae, playing for Kansas City, put a hurting on Yankees second baseman Willie Randolph during the 1978 ALCS.

"You can still break up a double play, but the tactics have to be different," said McRae. "It doesn't have the same impact."

Intimidation used to be part of the game.

There were hitters whose presence made the point, like Baylor, Frank Robinson, Lonnie Smith and Hal McRae. Ty Cobb, in fact, used to sharpen his spikes so he could "make a point" sliding into a base.

And there were pitchers whose mere presence on the mound would keep hitters loose.

The late Bob Lemon said when he managed the Chicago White Sox in the '70s he had to ban pitching coach Stan Williams from throwing batting practice. It seemed that if one of the Sox hitters took Williams deep, the coach would knock him down with the next pitch.

Dave Garcia tells the story of coaching third base in San Diego when Derrell Thomas was a rookie. Thomas had a habit of digging and digging and digging with his cleats as he got ready to hit.

"One night, Bob Gibson was pitching against us," said Garcia. "Thomas started digging in the box. Gibby came down off the mound, halfway to the plate, and told Thomas, 'If you're doing to dig, dig six feet.' First pitch was at Derrell's neck. The message was delivered. Derrell never dug again when Gibson was pitching."

Baylor hit his first big-league home run off Angels left-hander Andy Messersmith on April 29, 1972. Baylor also doubled, singled, stole a base and drove in three runs that day. Next time the Orioles faced Messersmith, Baylor singled in his first at-bat. He was hit with a pitch the next time up.

"He walked halfway toward home plate," recalled Baylor, "and said, 'Four-for-four, four line drives, it's about time don't you think?' I knew what he was saying."

No tantrums were needed. No translations required.

"Back then," said McRae, "when you came to the big leagues there were three things a pitcher wanted to find out about you. Can the guy hit an inside fastball? Can a guy hit the breaking pitch? Can the guy be intimidated?"

As Baylor put it, "Don Drysdale used to tell me, 'You can't have the whole plate. If I was pitching to you, you could have half the plate and I'd have half the plate. The only thing is, I wouldn't tell you what half was mine.' "