Predictably, Jim Joyce’s botched call at first base that robbed Detroit’s Armando Galarraga of a perfect game last Wednesday night has renewed the call for expanded use of instant replay in Major League Baseball. In the aftermath of such a horrendous mistake, it’s hard to avoid the temptation to make sure it never happens again. But if we care about the future of our civic life, it’s a temptation we need to resist.
The argument for instant replay is a simple one to make because we can easily imagine that it would be good for the game of baseball, the fans, and the players. After every overturned bad call, especially ones that might determine the outcome of the game, or, like in Galarraga’s case, make history, we’ll all be able to pat ourselves on the back for "getting it right." If you don’t believe me, watch any NFL telecast, where any pause for replay is defended as a righteous cause in search of truth and justice, where "getting it right" is always the most important thing. In our country, where everyone has a right to his day in court, the people’s sense of justice is strong.
As such, the argument against instant replay is much more tenuous. Who can argue against truth and justice? Who doesn’t want to "get it right"?
The purist would cite the need to preserve human error in baseball as if it were as crucial to the game as the baseball itself. But the purists, too, are off base: it’s not about preserving human error; it’s about having to deal with its consequences.
Thus, the real argument is not between tradition and progress, but whether "getting it right" is really the most important thing.
In my former job as a sports writer, I covered high school sports. Thankfully, there is no instant replay in high school sports. And because officials are not exactly as highly trained at the high school level as they are at the professional level, kids get to experience the sting of bad calls all the time. Some of these bad calls even affect the outcome of the game. But rather than that being a bad thing, as in something that should cause us to feel sorry for these young athletes, it’s as good of a learning experience as sports can provide.
After all, part of the sport of life is overcoming all those times when you’re on the wrong end of a bad call. It gives you motivation to "get ‘em next time." It teaches you to adapt, compromise, and solve problems on your own without always turning to a mediator. It reinforces the message that youth coaches and parents tell kids all across the country: It’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game. Instant replay undercuts that message. Why should an 8-year-old be forced to take his lumps and like it while an adult professional gets to file a protest?
In the course of my life, my parents, my bosses, my teachers, and even my local law enforcement have made some questionable calls. And if I ever have kids, when they scream at me that life’s not fair, I’m sure I’ll be telling them the same things I heard: tough luck, deal with it, too bad, get over it, and my mom’s favorite, tough tootsies.
I like Major League Baseball because it is still, mostly, faithful to this model. Even someone with the social capital of a Major Leaguer has to defer to the judgment of the umpire, whether the ump is right or wrong.
Thus, what’s at stake in this debate is more than one player’s or team’s shot at history, and it’s more than our sense of fairness and justice. For every time that we feel the need to "go to the tape," we lose a little bit of our civility and our ability to cope with all of life’s little imperfections. In short, we cheat ourselves out of our own humanity, complete with its own comedies and, yes, tragedies.
I don’t mean to suggest that there aren’t things in life worth standing up and fighting for, but in many arenas—like sports, where the stakes are relatively low—although it may feel good to always "get it right," it can be more important to exercise the virtues of self-restraint, humility, grace, and just getting along.
Hopefully, years from now when my kid and I are watching a game together and he gets upset when his favorite ball player can only walk back to the dugout after being burned by a bad call, I’ll be able to say, "Hey, that’s life," and I’ll be thankful for the opportunity. After all, life’s hard lessons usually don’t come so cheap.