Gender Free

Would you believe it’s been more than two years since I last ranted about the Decline of Civilization? Me neither, but it’s true.

Lest you think I’m getting soft, I’m going to remedy the lack. And no, it’s got nothing to do with politics. At least not directly. Today, we’re all about language. Specifically, the gender-prefix.

Oh, you know what I mean. The addition of a gender-linked modifier to a perfectly good gender-irrelevant word. Man bun. Man purse. Man cave.

Don’t think I’m exaggerating my disgust with this phenomenon for the sake of a blog post. I loathe the trend. Not to put too fine a point on it, this creation of invisible–in truth, non-existent–gender distinctions is exactly the process that leads to gender-linked pay disparities, “just kidding” harassment, and rampant discrimination.

Really. Think about it.

There’s no such thing as a man bun–or a woman bun for that matter. It’s a bun. Period. Exactly the same hairstyle regardless of who’s wearing it. I’ve got no dog in this race: one look at my photo will tell you my hair isn’t ever going to fit into a bun.

The only reason the style looks odd on a man is because you’re not used to seeing it. It’s a style traditionally worn by women, so there’s that moment of cognitive dissonance until you get used to it. Regrettably, neophobia is a real thing, and those who suffer from it are going to prevent themselves from accepting something new by labeling it as “different” or “other”.

Excise man bun from your vocabulary.

Ditto man purse.

Don’t want to call a moderately sized bag you carry in your hand or on your shoulder a purse? Fine. How about “shoulder bag”? It’s a perfectly good term, gender neutral, and with a long history. And it exactly describes the object in question.

Then there’s man cave. What’s wrong with “basement”? Or “rec room,” “TV room,” or even “game room”? Because, let’s be honest here, calling that room where you go to watch the ballgame a man cave not only does a disservice to all the women who enjoy sports, a game of pool, or a handy supply of beer and life-shortening snack foods, but it also devalues the room itself.

Caves, by and large, are cold and dark. Frequently damp, too. None of which is going to make the man cave sound appealing. You want a word to describe that cozy space where it’s just you, your favorite chair, and the biggest damn TV you can afford? How about “den”?

Now there’s a word with all the right connotations. It hints of the wild, but retains notes of “warm and cozy”. The kind of place you want to bring a few of your best friends to hang out.

Don’t think, by the way, that I’m just ticked off at the male gender here.

I swear I will projectile vomit on the next person who uses the phrase “she shed” in my presence.

If it wasn’t invented by some alliteration-addicted marketing executive, it should have been. Like man cave, it’s needlessly exclusive and designed to sound superficially appealing while actually being dismissive. And, also like man cave, the so-called she shed can easily wear the proud badge of “den” with pride and dignity.

A pox on both houses, man caves and she sheds alike.

Bridging the Gap

Speaking of the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge (as I was last week) maybe you’ve heard that it’s joined the Bay Area’s roster of troublesome infrastructure?

The problems aren’t as severe as the Bay Bridge’s issues, nor as expensive to resolve as BART’s shortcomings, but they’re still an interesting little tale of terror.

Okay, maybe “terror” is excessive. Trauma, though…that works.

The story, or at least the current phase of it, started earlier this month–but let me give you some background first. The bridge is double-decked. The top deck is for westbound traffic (Richmond to San Rafael). There are two lanes and a wide shoulder, part of which is currently being converted into a bike and pedestrian path. The lower, eastbound deck, also has two lanes and a wide shoulder. As I explained in that earlier post, the shoulder is used as a third lane during the evening commute.

The bridge opened in 1956 and has been updated several times since, including undergoing a seismic retrofit in the early 2000s. Of particular note, the majority of the bridge’s joints–795 of 856–were rebuilt during the retrofit. The remaining 61 have been in place since the bridge opened.

Which brings us to February 7 of this year. At approximately 10:30, the California Highway Patrol received a report that chunks of concrete falling onto the lower deck. Specifically, someone told them a rock had fallen onto the hood of their car, denting it severely. Inspection showed that concrete was falling from around one of the expansion joints on the upper deck. Yes, one of the Original Sixty-One. At 11:20, give or take a few minutes, Caltrans closed the bridge in both directions.

Fortunately, the morning rush hour was mostly over by the time the bridge closed. And, for the curious, yes, I had driven over the bridge that morning, headed for San Rafael. And no, my car did not knock loose the chunk of concrete that was the cause of the CHP being called in. I’d passed that part of the bridge about fifteen minutes before the caller’s hood was crushed. Not guilty.

Without the bridge, there really isn’t a good way to get from San Rafael to the East Bay. You can use the Bay Bridge, but that means going through San Francisco, which is a nightmare of a commute even in the best of circumstances. Or you can go around to the north, via Novato, Vallejo, and Crockett, which involves a long stretch on the one-lane-in-each-direction Highway 37.

The bridge remained closed until shortly before 3:00. By then, of course, the evening commute was totally snarled. Opening one lane in either direction didn’t help much, and when more concrete fell, those lanes were closed again. (Again, I lucked out: I left work at three and made it across just before the 3:45 re-closure.)

After that, the upper deck stayed closed. A single lane on the lower deck opened around 4:30, but by then any commute anywhere in the Bay Area was a multi-hour affair.

Caltrans got a temporary patch in place–metal plates on the top and bottom of the upper deck–and reopened the bridge around 8:30. Amazingly, the congestion had all cleared by the following morning, and my commute to work was no worse than usual, aside from the jolt to my car’s suspension going over the temporary patch.

The upshot is that the Original Sixty-One are now being replaced. At least in theory. It’s been too wet for actual repairs to be carried out, which means the planned completion date of March 5 is totally out the window. The repairs and the delays to the repairs also means the bike lane is going to be delayed by at least two months.

To be fair, the rain is hardly Caltrans’ fault. And, as far as I can tell, the delay isn’t going to raise the cost of the repairs (about $10,000,000 for the 31 joints on the upper deck; the 30 on the lower deck were actually planned for replacement later this year in a separate rehabilitation project.)

But I doubt there are many Bay Area commuters looking forward to weeks or months of overnight lane closures.

And, even though there’s no evidence of problems at any of the other commuter bridges–and yes, that include the Golden Gate–I doubt I’m the only person who has second thoughts about driving on the Carquinez, San Mateo, or Dumbarton Bridges.

I mean, really, how much bridge luck can I reasonably expect to have?

It’s Time

We’re a week into pre-season games, and I’ve yet to watch more than a couple of innings. Not by choice, of course. Merely an artifact of MLB’s preference for playing games with no effect on the standings* in the early afternoon. It makes sense from a player preparedness perspective, but it can be aggravating for those of us with other commitments.

* I’m not going to call them “meaningless.” They may not matter to MLB executives, but they’ve got plenty of meaning for fans waking from their winter nightmares of no baseball. One imagines they have at least a little meaning to the players, especially the minor league invitees hoping to score a place on the big league club.

But, barring another rainout, I should be able to catch the whole Mariners/Rangers game today and tomorrow’s Mariners/Indians game as well. That should improve my outlook on life and–given baseball’s usual effect on my writing–speed me through several chapters’ worth of Demirep‘s second draft.

Speaking of the Cleveland Indians, the “Chief Wahoo” logo will no longer appear on their uniforms. As was widely reported last year, the team will continue to sell a limited number of souvenir items bearing the logo in order to maintain control of the trademark. As I said when the move was announced, that’s somewhat inside out and backward, but it’s better than the nothing we continue to see coming out of the Washington D.C. football team.

As for those minor league players I mentioned a moment ago, let’s not forget that they’re playing–and training–without pay. They don’t start earning those spectacular salaries until next this time next month. In case you missed it, “spectacular” should be read as sarcasm. According to MLB’s own figures, the average player at the lowest A level gets $1,300 a month. (Hint: that’s about what I make working part time.) And that’s the average. Unless they’re all getting the same amount–they’re not–that means some players are making less than $250 a week for a more-than-full-time job. It’s a decent rate for a side gig. It’s not enough to live on, much less support a family, in most of the US.

Pay is somewhat better as players move up in the ranks. MLB says the average AAA player makes $10,000 a month. That’s about $60,000 a year (remember, they only get paid for six months). By way of comparison, according to Glassdoor, the average school teacher makes about $48,000 a year. So, yeah, the hypothetical average AAA player is doing slightly better than the person who taught him how to do math.

You can live on 60K, even get married and have a kid. In most of the country, anyway. Again, that’s the average. I’d love to see the distribution–how many players are making more than ten grand, and by how much, and how many are making less.

And, don’t forget, players move up and down the minor league ranks during the course of the season. It’s great to say you’re getting ten thousand a month in AAA, but if you were in AA from March to August, you’re not going to see a heck of a lot of benefit from that princely wage.

I’m not saying that minor league players should be earning six figure salaries. I’m not even suggesting every player should get as much as an elementary school teacher. But MLB’s protests of poverty and the collapse of the game if they paid enough to live on at all levels of the minors rings a bit hollow. After all, the minimum salary for a major league player is about $550,000 a year. That’s a pretty spectacular pay disparity.

If memory serves, the typical major league team has about 250 minor league players on their payroll. A little simple math suggests that putting in a set salary scale starting at, say, thirty thousand a year–five thousand a month during the season–and going up to that sixty thousand dollar level they’re currently paying in AAA wouldn’t cost a team even as much as a single decent free agent.

And with one less thing to worry about, the quality of play in the minors would go up. Better minor league players, better major league players. Simple math.

(This post was edited 3/11/19: Glassdoor asked that I add I link to their salary data.)

Unfolding Before Your Eyes

The future is here–or will be on April 26–and it ain’t cheap.

Unless someone sneaks out a surprise, two months from now, Samsung will have the first folding phone commercially available in the US: the Galaxy Fold.

Though that’s actually a bit of a misnomer. When the device is folded, it looks like a fairly standard high-end phone, albeit one with an unusually narrow screen (1960×840) and really, really wide bezels.

Unfold it and it’s not really a phone anymore. The phone screen winds up on the back (here’s hoping they disable that screen when the device is unfolded) and you get a front-facing seven-inch tablet with a more-than-decent 2152×1536 resolution.

So what do you call it? Ars is saying “phone-tablet hybrid” but that’s a bit of a mouthful. Phablet is already in use and tablone isn’t very inspiring–and it sounds too much like Toblerone.

There’s been a lot of speculation about how well Android is going to handle folding screens, but largely in the context of a screen that folds into a different size and shape. In this case, you’re either using one screen or the other with no on-the-fly reconfiguration. Though, to be fair, it sounds like there’s some communication between screens. That’s a slightly different situation, however, and one that developers already know something about.

Frankly, I can’t see this gaining much traction, even among the early adopters who need every new thing that comes along. It looks prone to breakage (remember Apple’s butterfly keyboard?) and, because the folding screen can’t have a glass cover, likely to scratch easily.

Personally, I think a seven-inch tablet is exactly the right size, but by and large, the market doesn’t agree with me. Fans of eight to ten inch tablets are going to find the Fold’s tablet mode cramped, especially if they try to multitask. Samsung is saying you can display three apps at once, but how large are they going to be when they’ve divvied up those seven inches? I can’t be the only person who’s worried that text will be either too small to read or too large to fit well on a phone-optimized UI.

More important, however, is the price tag. At a whisker short of $2000, there aren’t a whole of people who’ll pick one up on impulse. And, as the iPhone X has shown, even Apple is having trouble convincing the general public to shell out four figures for a phone, no matter how large its screen may be.

When you can pick up a good phone and decent tablet for half the price of the Fold, two grand is going to be a hard sell. That folding screen has to deliver some solid value as a display or it’s going to come off as a gimmick.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the idea of a folding display. A tablet I could legitimately fold up and tuck in a pocket sounds like a winning idea.

I just don’t think the Galaxy Fold is the right implementation. Even if I had $2000 to spend on a phone or table right now (I don’t), I’d sit back and see what other phone makers come up with. And I suspect a big chunk of Samsung’s potential market will too.

Follow the Leader

Can we talk about self-driving cars again? Oh, good. Thanks.

It occurred to me the other day that the public press (as opposed to the technical press) isn’t paying much attention to one particular aspect of autonomous vehicles: interoperation.

Every article I’ve seen that touches on the subject makes mention of emerging standards and the need for inter-vehicle communication, but they all seem to assume that having standards is the solution to all the potential problems.

Believe me, it ain’t. For one thing, there’s the ever-popular catchphrase “the great thing about standards is that there are so many of them”. Just because a car implements a particular standard, that doesn’t mean it implements every standard. And which version of the standard? They do evolve as the technology changes. Will a car that’s compliant with version 1.2 of the car standard for signaling a left turn recognize the intention of the oncoming truck that’s still using version 1.1 of the truck standard?

Lest you think I’m exaggerating the problem, consider the rules (not a standard, but similar in intent and function) for the noise-making apparatus in electric vehicles. (I talked about it several years ago.) That one document runs to 370 pages. Do you really think there are no errors that will require updates? Or a significant amendment to cover cars made in other countries? Or a missing subsection for retrofitting the technology to older electric cars released before the rules were finalized?

And, speaking of those 370 pages, that brings us to the second problem. Even assuming the best will in the world, no spec is ever totally unambiguous. Consider web browsers. Remember back around the turn of the century, when we had Internet Explorer, Netscape, and AOL’s customized versions of IE? All theoretically compliant with web standards, all delivering different user experiences–rendering pages slightly–or extremely–differently.

Nor do they do anything to prevent developers from introducing non-standard extensions. Do we really want some latter-day Netscape-wannabe from coming up with an automotive blink tag while their competitors over at Microsoft-like Motors are pushing their equivalent of the scrolling marquee tag?

But I digress slightly.

What started this train of thought was wondering how autonomous vehicle developers are going to handle weird, one-off situations. We know some of them are working up plans for turning control over to remote drivers (like OnStar on steroids). But how well is that going to work at 60 MPH?

Case in point: The Richmond-San Rafael has a part-time lane. For most of the day, it’s actually the shoulder on the eastbound part of the bridge. But during the afternoon rush hour, it becomes a traffic lane. There are lights to signal when it’s open to traffic–and the open hours are scheduled–but it can be taken out of service when necessary. That means developers can’t count on programming open times. Cars may or may not be able to read the signal lights. Maybe there’s a standard compliant (for some standard or other) radio signal as well.

But the critical point here is that the lane markings are, well, weird. There’s a diagonal stripe that cuts across the lane; when the lane is open, drivers are expected to ignore the line, but at other times, they’re supposed to follow it in merging into the next lane over.

How is the car supposed to know when to follow the line? (Come to think of it, how do current lane assist technologies handle that stretch of road?) How are the programmers prioritizing lane markings versus other signals?

Maybe, I thought, in ambiguous situations, the rule could be “follow the car in front of you”. That could work. Sooner or later, the chain of cars deferring to the next one forward will reach a human-driven car which can resolve the conflict. Hopefully that driver is experienced enough to get it right and neither drunk nor distracted by their cell phone.

But how are the cars going to know if the car in front of them is trustworthy–i.e. is following the same “follow the car in front of me” rule? Is your Toyota going to trust that Ford in front of it? Or will it only follow other Japanese manufactured vehicles? Maybe the standard can include a “I’m following the car in front of me” signal. But what if the signal changes in version 2.2a of the specification?

There’s a classic short story* in which cars and trucks have evolved from trains. Each manufacturer’s vehicles require a different shape of track and a different width between tracks. Some are nearly compatible, able to use a competitor’s tracks under certain special circumstances. As you might imagine, the roads are a mess, with multiple tracks on every street, except where a city has signed an exclusive deal with one manufacturer.

* Whose title and author currently escape me, darn it. If you recognize it, please let me know in the comments.

The story is an allegory on the early personal computer industry with its plethora of competing standards and almost-compatible hardware, but I can’t help wondering if we’re about to see it play out in real life on our roads.

All Hail!

Who’s that curled up all cozy on the mushroom?
15-1

Why it’s Lefty!
15-2

Care to share a few words with your fans, Lefty?
15-3

Clearly, he’s got nothing printable to say…

Seriously, though, this is a major step forward. Sure, he was uneasy, not to mention annoyed at being awakened. But nevertheless, he stayed put long enough for me to stick my phone through the barely opened door and take several pictures.

All part of the evolution of his attitude. He still hides under the futon when we come into the room, but he stays much closer to the edge, and he’ll actually come out into the room to get treats.

He’s quite the elegant fellow–though he’s still not happy about being watched–and he’s still keeping a safe distance, even when treats are involved. But his definition of a “safe distance” is getting smaller and smaller.

Hail the Formerly Feral Feline, who’s becoming increasingly “formerly” every day!

Room to Disagree

Reasonable people can disagree. (So can unreasonable people, but that tends to get too contentious for daily life. Anyway.)

Not everyone will agree with my assessment of the various proposals being passed back and forth between the MLB Players Association and the league management. But I’m willing to accept the validity of their views, and I’d hope they’ll do likewise in return.

Because, see, I’ve got a few proposals of my own that I think would go a long way to improving baseball. What do you think of these ideas?

    1. Expand the MLBPA to cover the minor leagues. Many of baseball’s problems can be traced to the minors. Currently, there’s no unified voice that can speak for players without major league contracts. As a result, the players are unquestionably underpaid–well below the federal minimum wage–with no ability to negotiate better deals and they have far fewer opportunities to develop themselves off the field. For all its faults, the MLBPA could give them that voice. And, as an added bonus, including minor league players in the collective bargaining agreements would give them a say in the deployment of new rules (i.e. their working conditions), something that’s currently the sole province of the major league owners.
    2. Expand the major leagues. Specifically, add one team each to the AL and NL. That would give sixteen teams in each league, greatly simplifying scheduling and potentially allow a return to the earlier practice of having everyone in interleague play at the same time, something that was popular with the fans; certainly more popular than the current arrangement which has one interleague game every day. For reasons I’ll discuss in the next point, I’d like to see the new teams in Vancouver and Las Vegas (although Portland would be an acceptable alternative).
    3. Realign. Sixteen teams across three divisions isn’t going to work. Better to have four divisions of four teams in each league. In order to maximize the value of geographic rivalries, and better balance the amount each team must travel over the course of the season, I’d suggest that the divisions break from the current time zone orientation and go to the compass points instead:
      AL East NL East
      Baltimore Washington
      Boston Philadelphia
      NY Yankees NY Mets
      Toronto Pittsburgh
      AL West NL West
      Anaheim Los Angeles
      Vancouver (or Portland) Arizona
      Oakland San Francisco
      Seattle San Diego
      AL South NL South
      Texas Atlanta
      Houston Las Vegas
      Kansas City St. Louis
      Miami Tampa
      AL North NL North
      Chicago Sox Chicago Cubs
      Cleveland Cincinnati
      Detroit Colorado
      Minnesota Milwaukee

      Vancouver would not only give a local rival for Seattle, but also a Canadian cross-country rival to the Blue Jays, who’ve had the Land of the Maple Leaf to themselves since the Expos abandoned Montreal. Portland, on the other hand, would mean even less travel for the AL West teams, while still providing the Mariners with local arch-villains. That’s certainly working well in soccer, where Portland and Seattle have one of the league’s great rivalries.

      Las Vegas, of course, is a natural, given their current expansionistic ways in sports. Perhaps they’re a little too far west for maximum convenience in the South–and there are a few other geographical compromises in my proposed alignments–but certainly there’s nothing worse than the current arrangement, which has two Texas teams in the AL West.

    4. Shorten the season. Not much. Just enough to sneak a few more rest days into the calendar. Along with the above expansion and realignment, schedules could break down like this:
      • 13 games against each division rival
      • 5 games against each of the other teams in their league
      • 5 games against each team in the same division of the opposite league (i.e. AL North vs. NL North)
      • 3 games against each of the other other-league teams (home one season, on the road the next so we don’t have one game road trips)

      That would be 155 games, hearkening back to the pre-expansion 154-game season. With proper timing, and perhaps an occasional double-header, that could allow for six or seven more days off scattered throughout the year.

Agree? Disagree? Can we at least be reasonable?

Spring Is About to Spring

Spring isn’t quite here yet, but it’s less than two weeks away.

Oh, sure, the Vernal Equinox isn’t until March 20, but I’m talking about the start of baseball. The real beginning of Spring. And, as far as I’m concerned, that’s the day of the first Spring Training game. Not when players begin reporting–which was Sunday, by the way–because unless you’re in Arizona or Florida you can’t take part, not even electronically. Nobody broadcasts pitchers stretching their arms, position players taking fielding practice, or batters in the cage.

Nor is it when the first official games are played, because that’s the start of Summer. “Boys of Summer,” right? Gotta sneak Spring in there somewhere. It’s particularly bad this year, with the Mariners and As starting the season in Tokyo. That’s at some ridiculous hour the night of March 19 or morning of March 20, depending on your time zone. Okay, it aligns with the astronomical calendar, but so what? This is religion, not science.

Opening Day for everyone else is March 28, by the way. Which means Spring is going to be only thirty-five days long. But what can you do?

Anyway, yeah, Spring starts with a radio-only game between the Mariners and As on February 21. (The first televised game is the next day, also a Mariners/As contest.) Close enough that we should start seeing the prognosticators popping their heads out of their holes and looking for their shadows any day now.

Too early for me to make any predictions. As usual, I’ll hold mine until everyone’s played an official game. But to tide us through these last ten days, how about a survey of the proposed rule changes MLB and the MLB Players Association have blessed us with this year?

Tweaking the size of the roster. Count me as wholeheartedly in favor of this one. Increasing the number of active players from twenty-five to twenty-six will give teams more flexibility in arranging their lineups, and combining it with a twelve-pitcher limit will ensure that there are enough position players to allow for late game substitutions and pinch hitting. Add in the reduction of September rosters from forty to twenty-eight, and you’ve got a recipe for more consistent play. I’m in.

Fewer mound visits. Shrug. Was anyone penalized for too many mound visits last season? I sure don’t remember it happening. The proposal is to drop the limit from six to three by 2020. I don’t see it making much of a difference.

Bringing the pitch clock to the majors. I’m already on the record as being okay with this one. I haven’t seen any ill effects on the game in the minors, where it’s been in use for several years. I gather the current thought for the major league level is to only use the clock when the bases are empty, which would certainly reduce its impact–no hurried pitches going wild and allowing a runner to score from third. Nothing here compels me to change my position.

Changing the draft to discourage tanking. Um. No. Does anyone really think the Orioles intentionally lost 115 games last year to improve their draft position? Maybe there was some jockeying for the second and third picks. Maybe. But penalizing teams for losing seems more likely to hurt unlucky or injury-prone teams than to discourage teams from punting a couple of games.

The three-batter minimum. Nope, not this one either. All it takes is a glance at football to see why this is a bad idea. Remember when football had a thirty-second injury timeout? There’s a reason the “injury” part got dropped. Why force players to fake an injury to get out of the game? Besides, limiting the number of pitchers should cut down on late game pitching changes, especially with the increase in the use of “openers”. This one feels too much like fiddling for the sake of fiddling.

A complete ban on trades after the All-Star Break. Oh, hell no! Sure, it can be frustrating when your favorite player is traded on July 31, bringing a measly return of minor league players and forcing you to give up on the playoffs. But blocking the trade isn’t going to make your team any better–they’ve already lost enough games that management has given up on the season. The idea goes against roster flexibility and might even encourage tanking. Send this idea to sleep with the fishies.

Lowering or moving the pitching mound. Lower it? Sure. Wouldn’t be the first time, and if it does increase offense, it’ll make games that much more exciting for the casual fan. I wouldn’t want to see the mound eliminated entirely–Walter Johnson, anybody?–but shave it down from ten inches to seven or eight? Not gonna bother me a bit. On the other hand, I’m firmly against moving the mound further away from the plate. Not only would it invalidate 125 years of pitching records, but it would force pitchers to throw harder, risking more arm injuries. And it would mess with hitters’ timing, something they’ve spent their entire lives tuning. My gut says moving the mound back would be more likely to decrease offense than increase it, at least for the first decade or so while we wait for players who’ve played the game since high school with the mound at the new distance. Not to mention that moving the mound would leave the US out of sync with the rest of the world, who are unlikely to want to tamper with that bit of tradition just because MLB has.

Introduce the DH to the NL. I like having the DH limited to the American League. I think it’s good to shake up coaches and players by forcing them to make a strategic change for interleague games. But if this proposal goes through, I won’t cry. Be honest here, National League fans: once you get past “because it’s always been done this way,” the argument against the designated hitter boils down to a love of the “NL style” with its emphasis on bunts and sacrifices. Yes, but. The ninth batter is still (usually) going to be the weakest hitter in the lineup. Nothing says you can’t make him bunt or hit for the sacrifice, just like you do with the pitcher today. Heck, under the AL’s current rules, you can forgo the DH and let the pitcher hit. I’ve even seen it suggested that you could declare the pitcher to be the DH, thus letting him hit for himself and potentially stay in the game to hit when you bring in a reliever. I’m not certain that’s a legitimate interpretation of the rule, but I’d love to see it happen. That said, NL teams generally switch to an AL-style offense when playing in AL parks, which suggests that sacrificing and bunting aren’t winning strategies. Why would you want to see your team playing to lose? (Are we back to the tanking discussion again?)

It doesn’t look like any of these changes are going to be introduced this season. But, as the saying goes, just wait until next year!