A month ago today I posted about Gregg Olson’s Twitter feed (@GreggOlson30), which the former closer was using to compile a list of baseball’s unwritten rules. He’d tweeted 14 of them at that point, and since then has tweeted 15 more. Here are the rest in all their glory, with the occasional addendum from me. (Gregg, if you haven’t yet read The Baseball Codes, it’s right up your alley. DM me and I’ll get you a copy.)

This goes without saying. It didn’t necessarily stop Rob Dibble, of course, or the occasional lunatic who brought a gun into the clubhouse, but those guys weren’t the norm.

With an exception made for Elvis Andrus and Adrian Beltre, this one is solid … though it can also be utilized for nefarious purposes. In a story told by Bill Lee, for example, Orioles shortstop Luis Aparicio took advantage of the sometimes-extreme religious leanings of St. Louis shortstop Julio Gotay by making crosses out of tongue depressors atop second base before an an exhibition game in the early-1960s. Gotay didn’t notice them until the first inning, when, with a runner on first, he fielded a grounder and took the ball to second base himself. Upon spying Aparicio’s handiwork, he let out a shriek and immediately backed away from the play. Both runners ended up safe on what had appeared to be a certain double-play, then scored on an ensuing triple. (“I asked Aparicio if he ever tried that trick again,” Lee wrote in The Wrong Stuff. “He told me no, explaining that he he wanted to save it in case he played against Gotay in a World Series or All-Star game.”)

This one is true all the way down to travel ball. Warmups for tournament games can only take place on the sideline or in the outfield. If there’s a reason for this beyond keeping the dirt pristine till first pitch, I have no idea what it is.

Peeking = bad. Alex Rodriguez liked to do this. Do not imitate Alex Rodriguez.

Unwritten rule #20(a): Do whatever Verlander says.

For generations, veterans used this one to put any big-mouthed rookie in his place. “[Veterans] wouldn’t even speak to you,” said Lefty Grove about his own rookie experience, in Baseball When The Grass Was Real. “They figured you were coming there to take away somebody’s job. I was there about two weeks before they let on they knew I was around—and I’d already won three or four games by then. Oh, boy.” Part of it had to do with earning one’s place in the clubhouse, but part of it was strictly pragmatic: Guys with little life experience are better off absorbing what they can than trying to impart semi-formed opinions. Now that rookies earn more money than some veterans via outlandish signing bonuses , however, and can possess significant star power before ever playing an inning of big league ball, Rule No. 21 is not nearly as germane as it once was.

This is true for meals, for wardrobes, for nights on the town. When catcher Bill Schroeder was a rookie with the Brewers in 1983, he ended up in the hotel bar after a game in Kansas City. The veterans in the room wouldn’t let him pay for a drink all night, so in a token of appreciation, he approached a waitress toward the end of the evening and ordered a reciprocal round for them. Mike Caldwell stood up, asked who had purchased the drinks, and jumped into action. “Caldwell came over to me, and brought all six beers with him,” recalled Schroeder. “He said, ‘You’re not leaving here until you drink all these beers, and don’t you ever pull your wallet out again this year. You are not to buy another beer this season. You’re a rookie, and that’s our job.’ ” Yes, Schroeder finished the beers. No, he didn’t buy another round until 1984.

There’s an entire chapter in The Baseball Codes about mound conference etiquette, which pays specific attention to a moment in which Giants pitcher Jim Barr opted to refute this rule with the one guy least likely to tolerate insubordination: Frank Robinson. (It almost ended up in fisticuffs in the dugout.) In another incident, from 1974 (as detailed in Dynastic, Bombastic, Fantastic), A’s pitcher Vida Blue showed displeasure with manager Alvin Dark by leaving the mound before the skipper even arrived, then flipping the ball into the air as he blew past him. (Blue paid the resulting $250 fine in nickels.)

Hitters going to the batter’s box on the opposite side of the field from their dugout must similarly circle behind the catcher and umpire. The path between pitcher and catcher is sacrosanct territory.

Especially true with a 3-0 count during a blowout.

It goes without saying that the most effective method of communication between batter an umpire (or between catcher and umpire) occurs while the player in question is facing away from the ump, toward the field, in a low-key conversation that goes largely undetected save for those in the immediate vicinity. Umpires who feel shown up in front of a stadium full of people are less likely to be flexible in their opinions about a given subject.

Superstitions, man.

This is along the same lines as a pitcher waiting for his manager on the mound. You got your team into this mess; it’s the least you can do to stick around until one of your teammates gets you out of it.

This is the biggest and most important of all unwritten rules, the one from which most of an esoteric and sometimes baffling code book is derived. Dusty Baker said it best, in my favorite quote from The Baseball Codes: “I honestly believe that what you learn in this game is not yours to possess, but yours to pass on. I believe that, whether it’s equipment, knowledge, or philosophy, that’s the only way the game shall carry on. I believe that you have to talk, communicate, and pass on what was given to you. You can’t harbor it. You can’t run off to the woods and keep it for yourself, because it isn’t yours to keep. And what you teach other guys is the torch you pass. I don’t make this up—it was passed to me.”

Here’s to you, Gregg. Nice work.

Former Orioles closer Gregg Olson—the 1989 American League Rookie of the Year, who saved 217 games over a 14-year career—recently gave an interesting response to somebody who Tweeted the following at him in the wake of the Twins’ annoyance that somebody bunted against their shift in the ninth inning: “Bunting down 7 = bad. Utilizing the shift up 7 = okay. Clear as mud. These ‘unwritten rules’ are so lame.”

Olson has, over the ensuing two weeks, backed up his position by listing 14 unwritten rules, all of them presented here with annotations. All are valid, though some have faded a bit since Olson’s time.

 

 

The quibble I have here is that there’s a far more prominent exception to this rule than the shift: If the score is close and a player can reach base via a bunt, all is kosher at any time. Victories trump Code, always.

Superstition will never be defeated.

Outmoded these days. While still sometimes in play, it was once unequivocally true.

Yes! When Alex Rodriguez did this to Dallas Braden back in 2010, the general response was bewilderment about why Braden was so upset. Had people spoken to more pitchers, they would have heard more responses like Olson’s.

 

This is true, but in my book it’s more about baseball strategy than moral standards.

This one cuts to the heart of many of the issues facing the modern game. As the Code fades and new generations of players come up with scant understanding about it, we will see increasingly more situations governed by inflamed emotions rather than reasoned responses. I’ve been discussing this with a reader over at The Baseball Codes Facebook page over the past few days, as pertains to Nolan Arenado’s recent mound charge:

The Baseball Codes: I agree, but I’m talking about something different — a disconnection with the meaning behind certain established behavior, which leaves them with nothing but emotion (or, as you say, sensitivity) to govern their response.

Boy howdy does everyone have a different threshold. Once, a four-run lead after six was considered significant. Now, some managers consider a six-run lead in the eighth as still within striking distance.

This rule came into play with the aforementioned bunting-into-the-shift imbroglio, wherein the Twins expected Baltimore to transition into blowout mode (identified above by Olson as halting all stolen bases, but also including bunts, hit-and-runs, etc.) when they weren’t doing so themselves, defensively.

 

 

 

 

Absolutely correct, with the addendum that if you ARE caught, knock it off for a little while.

 

 

 

I will never question a pitcher about this one.

This rule can make it very difficult for friendly neighborhood reporters to do their job. I hate Rule #10.

This one is steadily changing—what’s considered to be showing up another team today is far less stringent than it was during Olson’s time. Only yesterday we talked about this as pertains to Javy Baez.

This makes sense. But if a pitcher gives up a hefty enough blast, he has far more important things to worry about than the fact that his outfielder made no effort to reach a ball that ended up in the third deck.

I just covered this one in March, in my Rusty Staub memorial post.

I haven’t heard too much about this one, save for the instances when substance abuse is impacting a player’s performance. Gregg, if you end up reading this, I’d love to hear a story about the response to somebody bringing a sandwich or etc. into the dugout during a game.

Seeing as his last post came only yesterday, give Olson a follow. One never knows when #15 might drop.

Update, 5-17-18: Olson’s been busy listing more rules.

Position yourself for a moment as an old-school curmudgeon when it comes to baseball’s unwritten rules, a defender of decorum, issuing proclamations about how it was better back before the current generation took over and started flipping bats all over the field and celebrating June victories like they’d just won the World Series.

Now imagine your head exploding when you hear that commissioner Rob Manfred, the man at the head of the food chain, tasked with shepherding baseball into its next golden era, said this in response to a question about on-field celebration:

I actually think players being more demonstrative on the field is a good thing for the game. I think it’s exciting.

It came during a media conference on Saturday and was easy to miss, being sandwiched between questions about minority representation in the sport and replay implementation. It seems, however, noteworthy. Is baseball’s head honcho actually advocating for more showboating within the sport?

Before we answer that question, take off the old-school cap I asked you to put on back in the first paragraph, and instead position yourself on the opposite end of the spectrum, as somebody who decries baseball’s unwritten rules as outdated and without function, serving mainly to suppress individuality and fun within the sport. You’re pretty happy with Manfred about now, aren’t you? So how do you feel about the very next thing that came out of his mouth?:

Overall, baseball has always had unwritten rules that kind of govern what’s appropriate and what’s not appropriate. The way I think about the changes we’ve seen in the last couple of years, is that we have a really exciting new, young generation in the game. And just like the players 20 years ago, they are going to develop a set of unwritten rules as to what’s acceptable and what’s not.

Yep, it’s possible to walk both sides of the line without being in the least bit hypocritical. Manfred is absolutely correct in leaving it up to the players to determine what is appropriate and what is not. That’s been the rule since forever, and things have seemed to work out pretty well. Once, an act like digging into the batter’s box was considered retaliation-worthy. Then times changed. Now, bat flips are all but ignored, and occasionally encouraged. Because that’s the way the players (certain among their ranks—*cough, Bumgarner, cough*—excepted) want it.

It’s the very position I’ve advocated in this space from my very first blog post. My own feelings have little sway in whatever position I happen to be examining. The issue at question is about how a player’s actions mesh with the mores established by his peer group at large. If he’s in the mainstream, there should be little problem with whatever it is he’s done. Otherwise, let’s discuss it and, if need be, discuss it again.

Manfred closed his answer thusly: “I have great faith in our players; that they will use good judgment; that they will develop a set of rules that are respectful of the game, but also are reflective of the differences between these young players and the people that may be played a generation ago. I think we should all embrace that. I think it’s a good thing for the game.”

Honestly, no answer he could give to any question would convince me of his competence more than that one. At their core, the unwritten rules are about respect, and however the current crop of players ends up getting there is far less important than their getting there at all.

Ultimately, that’s all any defender of the sport’s code should care about. Manfred is about two years into his tenure; looks like we’re in good hands, baseball fans.

MLB Commish Rob Manfred sat down with Adweek for a short Q&A which, given the most contentious topic of spring training, led off with questions about Bryce Harper and bat flipping.

Adweek: What do you make of Bryce Harper’s comments about how the sport is “tired” and should embrace players showing more emotion in an effort to appeal to a younger audience?
Rob Manfred: There’s a couple of word choices there I would have preferred that Bryce not have made. Having said that, the general sentiment is that this great young generation of stars that is emerging in the game is going to play the game their way—not a bad thing. Every institution evolves over time, and the fact that the players who played in the 1960s played the game one way doesn’t necessarily mean that players who are playing in 2016 are going to play it exactly the same way. I think younger stars taking control of the game is good in terms of marketing it to younger people.

Do you think baseball should embrace this and have more moments like Jose Bautista’s bat flip during last year’s playoffs? 
I don’t see that as a baseball commissioner’s office-driven issue. The players play the game on the field the way they play the game. That’s the point I was trying to make about Bryce’s comments. There’s these great young players coming along; they’re going to decide what’s acceptable on the field.

In summation: Young’uns will be young’uns, baseball’s changing (just like it always has), the players on the field dictate what’s acceptable and what’s not, and Goose Gossage and Mike Schmidt are cranky old men.

Okay, then.