The National League & the Designated Hitter

Alex Rodriguez holds the two biggest contracts in Major League Baseball history. After beginning his career in the Pacific Northwest with the Seattle Mariners, he decided to leave for big money in the Lone Star State, signing a massive deal worth $252 million over 10 seasons with the Texas Rangers, then the all-time biggest contract, at the ripe of age of 25.  Subsequently, the Rangers traded him, after only three seasons, to (of course) the New York Yankees. Later, when he could, A-Rod opted out of his contract only to sign another one, this second contract topping the first: $275 million over 10 seasons, ending in 2017—if he can avoid the Wrath of Selig. While I’m too young to remember who really went after Rodriguez after he left the Mariners, it’s not at all surprising that the Rangers, an American League West team, would sign him to a long-term deal, and that the Yankees, Lords of the American League East, would later acquire him.

Two winters ago, Albert Pujols left the St. Louis Cardinals for the Los Angeles Angels, signing what today is still the third largest contract in MLB’s history at 10 years, $240 million. It seemed like just about every big-market team went after Pujols, who led a storied career in St. Louis, including winning two World Series Championships. The final three came down to St. Louis, the Angels, and the recently renamed Miami Marlins. The Machine, as Pujols at one time was called, felt jilted by the Cardinals when the front office cut in half the years in their offer, from ten to five, and balked with the Marlins when they refused to give him a no-trade clause*. Almost by default, he chose the Angels, which seems just about right given his age when he signed the deal—32 on opening day that year—plus the length of the deal and the fact that he will most likely spend the twilight years of his career not playing in the field but exclusively hitting.

*Turns out he rightfully refused to sign with Miami, as everyone the team signed that offseason, they later exiled to Canada when the owner, Jeffrey Loria, realized that you can’t win a championship solely through free agency.

And then, most recently, Robinson Cano, a slugging second baseman who cut his teeth with the Yankees, matched Pujols’ deal by signing with A-Rod’s original team, the Seattle Mariners. Cano played nine seasons in New York, and now, at age 30, will embark on new endeavors with a team—which is tired of losing—that has now severely overcompensated for relevance. The next closest offer to Cano came from his previous team—7 years, $170 million. Really, with Cano, the only two teams that seemed destined to sign him were the Mariners or the Yankees. Other teams were mentioned—the Rangers, for instance—but nothing substantial grew from those rumors. It came down to Seattle and New York, and as the Yankees’ GM said, “[They] Yankee’d us.”

For Cano, no National League teams were considered favorites, despite several teams—Phillies, Cubs, Dodgers—having the money to bid on him.

Why?

It’s the same reason why Alex Rodriguez has only signed bloated deals with two American League teams and why Pujols chose the Angels:

The Designated Hitter.

The American League has had the DH for over forty seasons now, introducing it back in 1973. For those of you don’t know, well, you probably don’t exist, but anyway: the DH is simply a player allowed to bat in place of the pitcher.

The National League does not use designated hitters unless playing in an American League team’s ballpark, such as during inter-league play or an away game in the World Series. Otherwise, the pitcher hits in the NL.

I could go through the history of the DH much more, including a debate on whether such a player deserves enshrinement in Cooperstown (something I and Mr. Leap discussed a while back), but I won’t. Instead, I’ll just point out the two greatest DH’s in the history of the game: Edgar Martinez of the Mariners and David Ortiz, formerly of the Minnesota Twins, current star for the Boston Red Sox.

Sticking with Martinez and Ortiz a moment: neither one of them began their careers as designated hitters. Martinez played 2,055 games in his career, 564 of them at third with another 28 at first, leaving at least 1,463 games played as the designated hitter. Ortiz has appeared in 1,969 games, playing only 263 games at first, appearing as the designated hitter at least 1,706 times. What these numbers tell us is that the game always has a spot for spectacular hitters—and that spot is in the American League.

Which begs the question: why doesn’t the National League adopt Major League Baseball Rule 6.10, or something similar? Why don’t both leagues have the designated hitter?

I can only guess as to why the designated hitter was introduced in the first place. My best guess is that it was supposed to differentiate things between the leagues—the NL is where the pitcher hits, and the AL is where another, “regular” athlete hits in the pitcher’s place.

The owners also adopted the rule, probably, to create more offense in the game, which the public demands. Only a very small percentage of baseball fans (myself included) would enjoy a closely-contested pitching duel that may go into extra innings only to end in a 1-0 score. An even smaller percentage of baseball fans (myself excluded) would enjoy such a game on a regular basis.

An unexpected side-effect, I’m sure, of the designated hitter is that it allows poor fielders and older ballplayers to extend their careers by exclusively batting, enabling them to spend very little time—if any—on the field while still putting the bat on the ball.

Martinez didn’t play defense too well, and Ortiz started aging rather rapidly during his tenure in Minnesota. Thus, the Mariners decided to stick with one of their better hitters by slotting him into the DH spot while the Twins dumped Ortiz, and he landed in Boston, where the Red Sox have perfectly used their left-handed slugger.

Some teams, like the Kansas City Royals, decided to groom players as designated hitters early in their careers. Prime example: Billy Butler, a young, but sub-par, first baseman. But as one of the team’s best, and most consistent, hitters, he has been the team’s DH for years. And this is the right way to go when dealing with designated hitters. Seattle, I feel, did it first, and other teams, like the Red Sox and Royals, have caught on: paying players to exclusively hit is no longer taboo.

But how much should teams be willing to pay a player just so he can hit?

This is probably the best argument for the National League to adopt the designated hitter rule: it will enable them to sign high-priced, big-named stars to long-term deals, ensuring that they will have a spot for that player when he ages to a point where he can no longer play a position. Instead of an American League bidding war for Robinson Cano, National League teams with money to spend—like the Cubs—can get into the action, attract more fans to the stadium during the player’s prime, and then move that player to the DH when his legs start giving way to Father Time.

As it is now, the Cubs couldn’t possibly afford to sign Cano—they could afford the amount per year, yes, but they couldn’t afford the number of years. There is no DH when teams play at Wrigley Field, and thus, there is no room on the roster for a 39-, 40-year old Robinson Cano who can only take the field every-so-often while still making $24 million for every 162 games.

And there’s the catch: the best argument for the National League to adopt the DH is also the worst argument for the National League to adopt the DH—without the assistance of performance enhancing drugs, there is no why in hell that a player will be worth $24 million per season while in his upper-thirties-to-early-forties to just hit.

Another argument for having the NL adopt the DH is that the DH makes the AL that much stronger than the NL. I don’t buy into this. Looking at World Series championships alone, and going back to 1999, the American League has won 8 to the National League’s 7. Is that one difference enough to make the NL change its identity? No, it’s now. Would we be thinking about getting rid of the DH if the National League held that 8-7 advantage? No, we wouldn’t.

There’s more to it than just the World Series, like interleague play. The American League has dominated interleague play since MLB introduced it in 1997. Looking at total wins by league, the NL has only conquered the AL four different times, the last time coming in 2003. Overall, the American League owns a .524 winning percentage in all interleague games since the wayward inception.

Enough to persuade the NL to adopt the DH? Gimme a break.

For one thing, World Series championships are much, much more important than interleague games. Secondly, the fact that AL teams are the only ones able to spend the years on these players reveals something else: National League teams are more fully able to fully develop a team from the ground-up while (mostly) avoiding guys who want to sign past their field expiration-date.

Granted, Alex Rodriguez, Albert Pujols and Robinson Cano all still play the field—but for how long? For how long of their 10-season deals will each regularly occupy a position around the diamond?

It’s going to be very interesting to see how the ends of these contracts play out. Maybe not A-Rod’s—for that could happen sooner rather than later—but for Pujols, Cano, and other guys—Prince Fielder, Joe Mauer. And the contracts aren’t just in the American League. Joey Votto has a top deal, as do Matt Kemp and Troy Tulowitzki—and all three appear injury-prone.

Will the Angels be set back for years to come because of the Pujols deal? Will they try to move him, or buy him out—say, when Mike Trout is no longer team-controlled? What about the Mariners? And the smaller-market teams, like the Twins, Reds and Rockies?

What will happen?

For the National League teams, without the DH, the answer is harder.

The answer is easier for the American League teams—just move the guy to the DH and pay him $20+ million to sit on the bench and swing the bat.

Regardless, neither answer is pretty, or enviable. Playing careers will be scarred, managing and front office jobs will be lost, and franchises could fall years behind their competitors.

Then again, maybe I’m overestimating the whole thing—maybe there’s more money to go around in baseball that I can fathom—and maybe everything will end smoothly and gracefully, and these ballplayers won’t go out like Willie Mays, but instead like Ted Williams.

One thing is for certain: teams that have signed players in their thirties to ten-year deals have automatically cut in half—at least—their number of potential trade partners. There’s no way that in seven or eight seasons, the Pirates, say, would deal for Cano, Pujols, Votto or Tulo. Same goes for the other fourteen NL teams. Only American League teams would be able to make such a deal, and unless the team receiving the aging hitter gets the team giving him up to also fork over a large chunk of cash, then the deal won’t be worth it. This is just another layer to the ultimate reason why the NL should never adopt the DH.

Quite honestly, I hope the National League avoids the designated hitter. Change is good in some instances—like abolishing collisions at home-plate and introducing replay for certain plays—but not always. Change for the American League turned out great in 1973, but to do that to the National League would certainly impede its identity, and that’s something the game doesn’t need. Baseball’s amount of parity is doing just fine despite only one league being to attract some of the game’s biggest names. Whatever ends up happening with these big, long-term contracts, I don’t think implementing the DH into the National League is going to fix anything—short- or long-term. And as far as I know, no one is really suggesting that the DH be implemented into the NL because the stars of the game flock toward the AL.

But it is a solution.

Just a terrible one.