JUS MLB BLOG 10/6: THE BREWERS ARE CHEATING CHEATERS THAT CHEAT

I’ve been watching baseball for a long, long time.

And I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a more impressive display of absolute cheatingness than what we just watched for two games in Milwaukee.

Yes.

Cheatingness.

It’s a word now.

Because the Brewers have earned it.

Now, before every Brewers fan in Wisconsin starts throwing cheese at their computer screen, let’s establish something.

Technically?

The Brewers didn’t break the written rules.

Which somehow makes this even more annoying.

They have apparently constructed a baseball stadium where the stadium itself is allowed to play defense.

WELCOME TO MILWAUKEE BUMPER POOL

Let’s start with Game 1.

Ninth inning.

Padres down 3-2.

Runner on first.

Ty France absolutely launches one toward left field that has a chance to put San Diego ahead.

And then…

THE BUILDING INTERCEPTS IT.

The ball hits a cable attached to the roof, changes direction, falls back toward the field and Jackson Chourio catches it.

Out.

Excuse me?

Apparently American Family Field has a ground rule that says if a batted ball hits the roof, roof truss, roof cable or other overhead structure above fair territory…

THE BALL IS STILL LIVE.

If somebody catches it?

You’re out.

This isn’t baseball.

This is bumper pool.

This is indoor soccer.

This is the kind of rule you make up when you’re eight years old playing baseball in somebody’s backyard:

“If it hits Mrs. Johnson’s fence it’s still live, but if it hits the tree it’s a double.”

Except this is the National League Division Series.

YES, WE KNOW IT WAS THE RULE

Before Milwaukee fans start emailing us:

Yes.

We know.

It was technically the ground rule.

Craig Stammen even said the Padres and umpires had joked about the possibility of a ball hitting the roof before the game.

So Milwaukee did not secretly invent the rule during the ninth inning.

We’re aware.

We’re still calling it cheating.

Not legal cheating.

Not illegal cheating.

Baseball cheating.

An offense against the natural order of the game.

Because baseball has always had a pretty basic idea:

If you hit the baseball far enough that nobody can catch it, congratulations.

You did your job.

And if your stadium physically prevents that baseball from continuing toward the seats?

At minimum, give the guy a ground-rule double.

You don’t let the architecture make the catch.

THE BREWERS HAVE APPARENTLY SIGNED THEIR ROOF

Milwaukee’s newest defensive acquisition:

American Family Field.

Position: Roof.

Throws: Neither.

Bats: Neither.

Range: Entire left-field airspace.

Contract: Apparently permanent.

And honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Brewers have a remote control somewhere.

France gets one in the air?

BEEP.

Lower the roof six feet.

Machado gets ahold of one?

BEEP.

Drop another cable.

Tatis launches one?

Deploy the retractable crane.

I’m kidding.

Probably.

But Major League Baseball should bring in an actual crane after this series and remove anything hanging over fair territory.

Take the cables.

Take the beams.

Take the roof.

Whatever.

If your stadium is participating in playoff games, your stadium has become too involved.

AND THEN CAME THE MASON MILLER THING

Now we move to Game 2.

This one is different.

And this one is fascinating.

Mason Miller is one of the nastiest pitchers in baseball.

He throws 103.

Sometimes 104.

Then he has a slider that disappears.

That’s what makes him almost impossible to hit.

Because if you’re protecting against 103 and that slider starts in the zone?

Good luck.

Except Jackson Chourio suddenly showed the patience of Ted Williams.

Miller threw a nasty slider below the zone with two strikes.

Chourio didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t offer.

Nothing.

Then people started going through the video.

And that’s where it gets interesting.

Miller appeared to be holding his hands differently depending on whether he was throwing the fastball or slider.

And standing at second base was Sal Frelick.

Right before the slider?

Frelick appears to touch his neck.

Then Miller throws the slider.

Chourio takes it.

Hmmm.

WE HAVE WATCHED BASEBALL BEFORE

Anyone who has watched baseball for more than five minutes knows what runners on second are doing.

They’re looking.

Pitchers know they’re looking.

Catchers know they’re looking.

Everybody in the stadium knows they’re looking.

If the pitcher is tipping his pitch and the runner figures it out?

Technically, that’s on the pitcher.

And there’s an important distinction here:

There is no evidence Milwaukee was using electronics or some illegal sign-stealing system.

This isn’t the Astros banging trash cans.

If Frelick simply spotted Miller’s tell with his own eyes and communicated it to Chourio?

That’s baseball.

Annoying baseball.

Infuriating baseball.

Baseball that makes us want to overturn furniture.

But baseball.

However…

When a runner touches his neck immediately before a breaking ball and the hitter suddenly takes one of the nastiest sliders on Earth like he ordered it from DoorDash?

We’re allowed to be suspicious.

Very suspicious.

THE OLD BASEBALL RESPONSE

Historically, baseball had its own way of dealing with players who were believed to be stealing signs or tipping pitches from second base.

Let’s just say pitchers tended to make the next at-bat somewhat less comfortable.

We’re going to recommend that the Padres not throw a 100-mph baseball at anyone’s head.

Because we’re civilized now.

Mostly.

Instead, how about this:

Stop tipping your pitches.

Problem solved.

If Miller had a tell, fix the tell.

Because if Milwaukee figured it out legally, they’re going to use it.

And honestly?

So would everybody else.

BUT WE’RE STILL CALLING THEM CHEATERS

Because that’s today’s blog title.

We’re committed now.

First the stadium catches a potential go-ahead home run.

Then suddenly Milwaukee appears to know when Mason Miller’s slider is coming.

Then Chourio hits the walk-off.

And now the Padres are down 2-0 in a best-of-five series.

Milwaukee wins Game 1, 3-2.

Milwaukee wins Game 2, 4-3.

Two games.

Two one-run losses.

And somehow both of them included something that made us stare at the television and yell:

WHAT IS THIS?

So yes.

Until further notice:

THE MILWAUKEE BREWERS ARE CHEATING CHEATERS THAT CHEAT.

Legally.

Apparently.

NOW WE GET THEM IN SAN DIEGO

A friend asked me yesterday:

“Is there any hope left for the Padres?”

Absolutely.

Because now we’re coming back to San Diego.

Petco Park.

No roof.

No cables hanging over the outfield.

No Milwaukee architecture playing left field.

And hopefully no obvious Mason Miller pitch tells.

The Brewers lead the series 2-0.

That means San Diego has to win three straight.

Game 3 is tonight at Petco Park with Nick Pivetta starting for the Padres.

There is no margin left.

Lose tonight and the season is over.

Win tonight and suddenly Milwaukee has to play another game in San Diego.

Win that one?

Now we’re going back to Wisconsin for Game 5.

And then we simply have to score enough runs to overcome the players, the fans, the roof, the cables, the plumbing, the HVAC system and whatever other parts of American Family Field have been declared eligible defenders.

Easy.

TEAR THE ROOF OFF

Here’s the official JUS proposal.

If this series gets back to Milwaukee for Game 5, Major League Baseball should arrive about six hours before first pitch with several large cranes.

Take the roof off.

Just remove it.

Put it in the parking lot.

“You can have this back after the playoffs.”

Problem solved.

Baseball restored.

Justice served.

Until then, the Padres have a much simpler job.

Win tonight.

Stop worrying about Milwaukee.

Stop worrying about the roof.

Stop worrying about what happened in Games 1 and 2.

Score some runs.

Protect Petco.

Force Game 4.

And then let’s see how confident the cheating cheaters that cheat look when they’re heading back to their ridiculous bumper-pool stadium with the series tied.

Padres. Brewers. Game 3.

Season on the line.

Let’s play baseball.

Preferably in a building that doesn’t play defense.