Columnist Dean Juipe: Softball shortchanges its girls

Dean Juipe

Tuesday, June 19, 2001 | 11:03 a.m.

Dean Juipe's column appears Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. His boxing notebook appears Thursday. Reach him at juipe@lasvegassun.com or 259-4084.

When Abner Doubleday was tinkering with the measurements of a baseball field, he experimented until he found the precise distance between the mound and home plate that would give both the pitcher and the hitter a fair chance.

After what had to have been considerable study, he settled upon 60 feet, 6 inches.

Over the years the height of the mound for major league games has been raised or lowered ever so slightly, but the distance between the man throwing the ball and the man charged with hitting it has been -- and will always be -- constant.

At 60 feet, 6 inches, neither party has a noticeable advantage. Pitchers will get their strikeouts but hitters will routinely put the ball in play, and runs will be scored.

The game of baseball, even at the condensed distances used in Little League, has a symmetry to it that affects every participant. Balls are hit to all fields and everyone's involved.

This realization struck me the other day while watching, however briefly, a couple of girls' fast-pitch softball games. In both cases -- and these games were not exceptions to the rule -- there was astonishing little action for the simple reason that very few players are apt to connect with fastballs coming at them from a mere 39 feet.

Softball is a great game and fast-pitch softball certainly has its moments, but wouldn't the latter be far more interesting and entertaining if the pitcher's incredible advantage was minimally reduced?

As it is, the pitcher is not only right on top of the hitter before releasing the ball, the speed of her delivery is accentuated by her windup and step toward the plate at the point of release. Manny Ramirez couldn't get around on your everyday girls' fast-pitch hurler, so it's no surprise that the games are customarily won by the team that can squeeze in a single run.

Here's the routine for a basic half inning: Hitter No. 1 tries unsuccessfully to bunt and eventually strikes out; hitter No. 2 tries unsuccessfully to bunt and eventually strikes out; hitter No. 3 fouls one back over the screen, and, being unaccustomed to actually connecting with the ball, takes off for first before being summoned back, and, eventually striking out. The only variance is a rare hit, which ofttimes leads to extra bases when bored or dazed fielders misplay the ball in their anxiety of suddenly being required to make a play.

While enthusiastic parents try to prop up their teams' spirits, the game is reduced to a dominant pitcher, a reliable catcher, and an eagle-eyed umpire. Hardly anyone else is needed as the typical fielder is shortchanged and apt to get more from a practice session than from a game.

At its most extreme are pitchers like Catherine Osterman of Cypress Springs High School near Houston, who struck out 435 "hitters" and who did not give up a run in 177 innings this season.

This is nowhere near ideal and the only solution is pushing the pitcher back a few feet. Surely the sport would serve a far greater purpose if the batter were accorded a decent chance of putting the ball in play.

Why not let everyone play?

Why not do for softball -- at least at the youth-league level -- what Abner Doubleday did for baseball?