Fewer pitchers could solve baseball's pace of play problem

Baseball doesn't have a pace of play problem. I learned this last weekend by not covering the NFL draft.

The boss gave me the weekend off so, like most sportswriters, I debated whether to take the private jet to the Hamptons or sit on the couch clicking between the NFL draft and Twins games.

I chose the couch. It's important for all of us to reduce our carbon footprints.

As someone who remembers Jim Palmer pitching two-hour, complete-game shutouts, I've complained about modern baseball's pace of play for years.

By not covering the NFL draft I learned the error of my ways.

The NFL draft is three days of soon-to-be-disproved speculation from people you would not otherwise care about regarding mostly players who will make no difference in the NFL. And it takes for … ev ……… er.

The most dramatic camera shots during these three days display players in the green room. Waiting.

The most common camera shots are of NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell frisk-hugging players whose CTE claims he soon will be denying.

It's the worst TV show I've ever seen, and I've seen "The Bachelor."

And it did massive ratings, while also drawing the largest crowd to visit Philadelphia since the last time the locals gathered to boo Santa.

The notion that baseball games are too long and slow can't survive in a world where the NFL draft is a ratings bonanza.

Baseball has eliminated the throws leading to an intentional walk. This is a mistake. As Tom Kelly says, the great thing about the game is that you can't take a knee. Maybe the hitter will lean over the plate and hit a double. Maybe the pitcher will throw on to the backstop. Play it out.

Baseball is considering a pitch clock. This is logical but probably will become annoying and invasive, like most technological adaptations.

Baseball is trying to shave a few minutes off every game by eliminating the dead time on the field. The NFL draft proves that dead time is not a problem for sports fans. Baseball's problem is PTLP. Progression to last pitch.

Attend a day game, and you realize that nobody cares whether a baseball game lasts 2:55 or 3:10. Baseball's problem is the time at which a night game ends and how the game slows down in the late innings.

If a game begins at 7:10 and remains close, the key moments of the game may play out somewhere around 10 p.m. This is when people decide whether they should beat traffic and get some sleep, or whether they should click around to local news, sports highlights, another game or their recording of "Better Call Saul."

It is at this time of night when pitching coaches, catcher and managers begin visiting the mound, and eight relievers are employed, and the game becomes a series of commercials and unheard conversations.

That's when average fans start debating whether the team is good enough and the game is competitive enough to warrant staying in the ballpark, staying awake, or staying on one channel.

The 13-man pitching staff damages the game. It encourages extra substitutions and dragged-out innings and reduces the potential of a quality pinch hitter coming up in a dramatic moment, because no team with 13 pitchers can afford to keep a pinch-hitting specialist on the bench.

My recommendation to MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred, who was in town to ask why ByungHo Park didn't make the team: Legislate an 11-man pitching staff. If you're concerned with dead bullpen arms, create a one- or two-man inactive squad. If a reliever pitches three innings one day, he's made inactive the following day and a pitcher on the taxi squad is activated.

You'll see fewer mid-inning interruptions, more rallies, more intriguing late-game pinch-hitting and an endgame that will be worth staying awake to see.

Nobody buys a ticket to see the 12th and 13th members of a pitching staff, and those are the players slowing down the crucial moments of games stretching past 10 p.m.

Jim Souhan's podcast can be heard at MalePatternPodcasts.com. On Twitter: @SouhanStrib. E-mail: jsouhan@startribune.com