Tonight the Philadelphia Phillies can claim their first World Series title since 1980 by winning the final third of Game Five, which was postponed, tied 2-2 in the sixth, two days ago on account of inclement weather (i.e. it was raining like a bastard up there.) Best of luck to them, but I can’t help but think they could have been celebrating their victory already, spraying each other with champagne, getting drunk, masturbating into the trophy when the owners aren’t looking (they all do it), had the club only had the foresight to establish a few ground rules there at Citizens Bank Park.
In the event of a World Series game being postponed due to inclement weather (i.e. it’s raining like a bastard up here), the Home team (which is us, the Phillies) shall be declared the winner.
Done and fucking done. Ladies and gentlemen, your 2008 World Series Champion Philadelphia Phillies.
When I buy my own Major League franchise (it’s bound to happen eventually), I plan to employ a similar strategy. In fact, my entire ballclub will be built around creatively contrived ground rules giving the home team an unfair advantage. This will allow me to field a competitive team without spending too much on payroll. In fact, these rules will be so lopsided in my favor that I’ll probably be able to throw a squad of male cheerleaders out there and still finish the season no worse than .500. In the NL West, that might be good enough for the wildcard!
Here’s what I’m thinking:
Any ball hit fairly by a member of the Home team that travels beyond the infield into the outfield shall be considered a home run.
Pitchers playing for the Visiting team who are charged with a balk shall be immediately guillotined.
Runs scored by the Visiting team as a result of a hit, walk, hit-by-pitch, error, or fielder’s choice shall not count.
And just in case my team really, really plays like the Orioles:
Regardless of the final score, the Home team shall be declared the winner.
Unsportsmanlike? Sure. But I’d be the owner, so unsportsmanlike conduct would be tolerated, even expected. Go, Steves!
(I’d call my team the Steves.)