Although you have to like the overall pace of baseball in 2023, the most gratifying change is the lack of delay. Delay in sports is the least engaging element of any game. It is the thief of time.

In baseball it has been most annoying at the end of a game, when you are hoping for greater suspense and excitement, while the pitcher is traipsing around the mound, rubbing the hide off the ball, and the batter is re-adjusting his batting glove or his jock for sixth time in his at-bat.  How would that define entertainment for the fan at home or in the park, when other matters may press for our attention?

Or at the close of a basketball game, the team with the three-point lead is stalling to give its rival the least amount of time to handle the ball? Or the the waning minutes of a football game, when the coach lets the play clock tick away its allowed duration, just to keep the opponent from going on offense? Where is the competition when only the clock is the opponent?

Time is the enemy of all. Maybe the stalling strategy  reminds us of life itself. But who wants to pay $100-$200 per seat to watch others fall victim to time, the opponent we thought we would escape, once we entered the sporting arena?  Don’t we expect sports to condense the time for the struggle into a couple of fast-paced hours? How are we entertained by watching great athletes stall for time or stall others who need time to execute their offense?

Baseball is not governed by a play clock, and that has always been its special allure. The game is over when the last inning is played, not when the clock of doom winds down.  The  quantity of time matters less than the quality of time. So the stalling tactic drains something from the precious resource of quality time. Sure, stalling can break the relentless rhythm of the pitcher or the hitter, and maybe a well-placed time out is always in order.  But the essence of the game is the confrontation: Show me what you’ve got, and let’s see if you have what it takes.

The pitching clock, the hitting clock, and clock between innings advance the true agenda. The pace is better, but what we witness is the end of the stall, the halting of meaningless rituals, the hastening of the deliberation that delays face0ff. The energy isn’t sapped, it is rejuvenated from pitch to pitch, from batter to batter, from substitution to substitution.  It is amazing to behold the shortening of the game time, but it is miraculous to see the story of athlete versus athlete condensed to real time, a relentless agenda.

Maybe every sport should squeeze the stall, the waste of minutes, the incentive for delay, out of the game.  How do we coach ourselves to deal with the challenges of life: to avoid inevitable conflict, to try the patience of our opponent, to procrastinate? Perhaps, on rare occasions. What we expect of ourselves and our gladiators is to get in the box and swing at good, or apparently good, pitches. What we want to see is the pitcher serving up his best stuff and challenging the batter to give his best swing.  That is what we pay to see and, when we go home, we try to practice ourselves.

Procrastination is the thief of time.

Stop, thief!