Another memory in algorithm

“Son—You see what the catcher’s doing there? He’s signaling to the pitcher what to throw next. One finger means fastball, two fingers means curve, three fingers is a changeup. But see how he gives three signs in a row instead of one? It’s to mislead the base runner at second. The pitcher and the catcher, they gotta have a code. Otherwise the base runner could steal the sign and give it to the batter, signal what pitch is coming, make it easier to recognize.

Maybe the second sign is the real sign. Or maybe the first sign is the real sign on the first pitch, the second sign on the second pitch, and so on. Sometimes the catcher calls his pitches according to a grid system. Three different signs, each with a different purpose. The first sign is the actual pitch selection. The second sign is lateral—outside or inside, just one finger or two, depending on which side of the plate the batter is standing. The third sign is high or low. One finger would mean a pitch at the laces, two would mean the thighs, and three would mean a pitch at the letters. So if the pitcher’s looking in and gets three signs from the catcher, like a one then a one then a two, that means the catcher wants him to throw a fastball inside on the heart of the dish. 

See how the runner on second is looking in, trying to read the catcher’s sign? The catcher is prepared for that. He has to deceive the base runner, change up the signs. But changing signs can confuse the pitcher, so the pitcher and catcher must practice and be consistent with their signs. The last thing a catcher wants is for a pitcher to throw a curve when a fastball was called, especially if a runner’s stealing. He’ll never be able to throw out the runner if the pitcher throws a curve. 

You don’t want to use the same signs all the time. The other teams learn your signs. They learn their signs and then they learn your signs. Everyone’s trying to gain an edge, get the advantage. Remember how I showed you the other day how to keep your thighs close together when you’re giving the sign? It’s just another way you can keep the players on the other team from seeing it. 

Everything’s in code. Very little of this game is obvious, in the open. Language and strategy are concealed in geometry. The actual play—the ground ball to short, the fly ball to right—this is the effect of hidden plotting, mathematical calculation, variability assessment. Everything else lies in the coded progression of the game, the subtle chess-like pace. This is why baseball will never be solved by man. Even when he thinks he’s mastered the game, a new record or a fresh young phenom resets the pattern he believed to be absolute. It destroys his studied convictions. The game continually surprises him by mis-assigning chief value to the human element, the error-prone ballplayer. This is why baseball is like life, son. This is why life is like baseball.”