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Friday, April 13
Updated: April 14, 12:28 PM ET
Ah, to heck with Pittsburgh's new PNC Park

By Jayson Stark
ESPN.com

Three Rivers Stadium now sits in a big waste dump somewhere, obliterated into approximately 3.7 billion pieces. (Sorry. Exact piece counts are not available at this time.)

Meanwhile, Three Rivers' successor in Pittsburgh, lovely PNC Park, has spent its first week on the baseball earth being described as possibly the most beautiful ballpark in America today. (Yes, possibly even more beautiful than the Metrodome.)

But here at Week in Review, we consider it our duty to delve beneath the surface to reveal baseball's hidden truths. And after countless minutes of intensive research, our investigators are stunned that no one has noticed the uncanny, almost eerie, resemblance between old Three Rivers Stadium and new PNC Park.

	Wild, wild, wild
	Click here for Jayson Stark's Wild Pitches from the first two weeks of the season.

What's up with that?

"I've noticed it, too," Pirates pitcher Terry Mulholland admitted. "It's very similar, all the way right down to the dirt. It's the same color as Three Rivers -- brown.

"And this place is exactly the same altitude, too. I haven't found it any more difficult to breathe at PNC than I did at Three Rivers."

Ah, but the likenesses don't stop there. Not by a long shot. Or, in this case, a Brian Giles shot.

"And this place has no roof," Mulholland said, "just like Three Rivers. It's got one plate, three bases, two coaches' boxes, two foul lines, one pitcher's mound, one rubber. It's pretty much the same everywhere."

Oh, it's true, Mulholland conceded, that it's easier to find a luxury box serving shrimp scampi at PNC than at Three Rivers. But at Week in Review, we don't get distracted by all that peripheral stuff.

Yeah, sure. Your casual observer would think that just because PNC has spectacular skyline vistas, real grass and clubhouses the size of Rhode Island, that automatically makes it a far better place to play than a stadium with football lines laid on green concrete and a view, in the words of former Pirates coach Rich Donnelly, of only "the used barrels of nacho dip they'd used like three weeks before."

But there you casual observers go again, jumping to conclusions. Man, you think it's easy to play baseball amid all that lushness, all that beauty, all those actual humans in the seats?

	“	What we need is to get a little different tradition here when the opposing team hits a home run. You know how, at Wrigley, they have that deal where they throw the ball back? Well, why do that here, too? I think that whenever a ball goes out, they need to pass the ball to the right-field bleachers -- and then throw the ball in the river. Why throw it back on the field and delay the game? Just toss the ball in the river and let some kid in Mississippi pick it up in a couple of weeks. ”
		— Terry Mulholland on what the fans should do at PNC Park.

"This place has too many views," Mulholland said. "Nobody's watching us play. They're all looking at the buildings, looking at the bridge, looking at the river, looking at other parts of the stadium. I don't think anybody here even knows who's on our team.

"At least at Three Rivers, it was circular. So everyone was facing the field. They had no choice but to look at the field. Now they're all watching the incline go up Mount Washington. Sure, there's more of them in the seats. But if we're not going to have their full attention, what's the point?"

Precisely. And this real grass? That can be overrated, too.

"I know everyone is excited about it," Brian Giles told the Beaver County Times' John Perrotto. "But I'm trying to take a practical view. We've got to cut the grass now. We didn't have to do that at Three Rivers. That takes a whole lot of time and makes for extra work."

Mulholland also claims "the Astroturf was much greener -- and it was a constant. This stuff varies in length, and it gets all matted down. And depending on what direction they run the mowers in, it can have all different designs.

"At least at Three Rivers, I knew the Steelers played there, too, because I had the yard lines right there on the field. I always enjoyed measuring how far I could hit the ball in yards instead of feet. I'd take a 150-yard shot over a 300- or 400-foot shot any time. Yeah, 300 or 400 sounds longer. But 150 yards sounds more skillful."

Even the cool features erected at PNC to help the pitchers -- such as the 21-foot-high wall in right field, in honor of Roberto Clemente's hallowed No. 21 -- may not go far enough. After all, why stop there?

"Why couldn't they erect a 33-foot wall at shortstop in honor of Honus Wagner, too?" Mulholland wondered. "He was a shortstop, right? And he wore 33? So put a 33-foot wall right there. I mean, they've got a 20-foot wall in Houston at shortstop. So why not put a 33-foot wall here?"

Meanwhile, down there out of the view of the general public, the Pirates are theoretically being inspired by their new spacious, homey clubhouses. But no one ever thinks of the drawbacks of all these comforts.

"It takes a half-hour to walk from one end of the clubhouse to the other," Mulholland reported. "In fact, they're thinking of installing an intercom system next week at each locker, so we can talk to our teammates."

One strange phenomenon being reported in Pittsburgh this week was the mysterious sighting of many real people sitting in virtually every seat at PNC. And when the Pirates finally won their first game at home Wednesday, a sound erupted that subsequently has been identified as "a roar."

"Yeah, it's too loud here now," Mulholland said. "The ninth inning (Wednesday), you had all these people standing, yelling, screaming. I was really worried for (closer) Mike Williams. I didn't think he could adjust to that. We don't have a team psychologist yet. So we're going to have to tough it out. Or maybe we could have the ushers get those 'QUIET' signs from the Masters."

Even the very premise of the new park -- facing the skyline, nestled along the river to promote more awareness of the beauty of Pittsburgh -- can't match the literal tribute Three Rivers paid to its city's most famous geographical quirk every minute of every day.

"When you said the name, 'Three Rivers,' you knew that was where the Allegheny joins the Monongahela to form the Ohio River," Mulholland said. "Now we know that I guess there's some kind of bank here named PNC."

At this point, fairness compels us to report that one thing our investigators never did determine was how firmly Mulholland had his tongue implanted in his cheek during this monologue. But as long as we're on the subject of rivers, he does have one serious suggestion for using that body of water behind the right-field fence for a truly practical purpose.

	“	The fans look healthier in (Milwaukee's new Miller Park). Of course, that might be because they don't have tears in their eyes and icicles hanging off their mustache. ”
		— Jim Deshaies, Astros broadcast-humorist.

"What we need is to get a little different tradition here when the opposing team hits a home run," he said. "You know how, at Wrigley, they have that deal where they throw the ball back? Well, why do that here, too? I think that whenever a ball goes out, they need to pass the ball to the right-field bleachers -- and then throw the ball in the river. Why throw it back on the field and delay the game?

"Just toss the ball in the river," said that great wise man, Terry Mulholland, "and let some kid in Mississippi pick it up in a couple of weeks."

Miller Time of the Week
We'll have more on baseball's other new yard, Milwaukee's gleaming Miller Park, in a future Week in Review. But we can't let the opening of Miller pass without at least noting two important developments:

1) There's a slight climate change from County Stadium.

And 2) the president showed up.

No wind, no chill, no factor
Now we'll acknowledge that if ever a place needed a dome, it was Milwaukee, where there was always a chance a pitch might freeze on the way to home plate in April -- or else get swooped up by some passing seagull. But in the dome environment, baseball in Milwaukee figures to take on a whole new ambiance.

So here's a mini-review on that new ambiance, from our official new-ballpark critic, Astros broadcast-humorist Jim Deshaies, whose team just finished its first visit to Miller.

"I kind of miss County Stadium -- in a bizarre way," Deshaies reported. "I guess it's the same way people in the north liked to tell you they charged nine miles uphill in the snow during a blizzard. But I always felt it was a character builder to work at County Stadium, in any capacity -- as a player, as a coach or as a broadcaster. I think we're going soft now in the NL Central, with all these new parks."

Heck, Deshaies said, even the spectators are going soft.

"The fans look healthier in the new park," he said. "Of course, that might be because they don't have tears in their eyes and icicles hanging off their mustache."

Hail to the Chief -- and that's ball one
Meanwhile, not every new park gets to have the president stop by on opening night. But Miller Park did -- thereby guaranteeing the Brewers a "W" in their first home game no matter what else happened.

President Bush did it all -- touring the clubhouse, hanging out with commish Selig and firing the ceremonial (i.e., wild) first pitch. So here come the top three quotes on the presidential visit:

Third prize: from W. himself, after Milwaukee's Jose Hernandez reminded the president that he was once traded from Texas to Cleveland when Bush owned the Rangers: "I didn't make the trade," Bush politicized. "I told 'em not to do it."

Second prize: from pitcher Jamey Wright, on the prez's quick, hand-shaking, autograph-scribbling visit to the Brewers' clubhouse: "I thought he was going to walk in here by himself and hang out a little bit. Help us with some crosswords. Maybe play a game of hearts."

First prize: from Brewers manager Davey Lopes, after catching Bush's stylish first pitch -- a change-up that soared right over the old dish ... after one-hopping six feet earlier: "That was right over the middle of the plate. That's what he told me to say."

Lucky break of the week, chapter one
We can recall a time -- way back, oh, a couple of weeks ago -- when if a pitcher broke a hitter's bat, he actually thought that was a good thing.

But clearly, we've reached a point in modern baseball where your average pitcher can no longer look on anything short of a perfect game as a good thing.

For all the evidence of this we really need, let's wind the clock back to April 4 in baseball's funkiest domed stadium, Tampa Bay's Tropicana Field.

In the eighth inning that day, Devil Rays pitcher Ken Hill threw a pitch that blew Tony Batista's bat into two large pieces.

For Ken Hill, that was supposed to be a great development.

And it was -- until the baseball came back to earth.

On the other side of the fence.

The center-field fence.

We watched this home run on videotape about a hundred times. We still had our suspicions that this might have been accomplished with some sort of trick photography, kind of like "Wag the Dog."

So we checked with a certifiable eyewitness, a man who viewed this bizarre home run in real life -- Blue Jays reliever Paul Quantrill.

"I saw him swing the bat," Quantrill testified to our Week in Review legal team. "I saw the bat head flying. In fact, I saw the bat head before I saw the ball. Then I started looking for the ball. I figured it was maybe a flare to center or, at the most, a regular fly ball. Next thing I knew, the ball went over the fence."

So there you have it: real person testifies broken-bat center-field home run really happened.

Now, though, comes the hard part:

Explaining exactly how it really happened.

The Devil Rays had a theory, which Hill summed up in two words: Corked bat.

To which Batista's teammate, Carlos Delgado, replied: "If he has a problem, he should send someone to get an X-ray."

The way we look at it, though, no cork pellets were seen flying all over the infield. And no one was spotted swigging any champagne. So bag those X rays. Next theory, please.

This ought to be the spot where we trot out the old standard theory for developments like this: the ball is juiced. But our fearless leaders in Major League Baseball have assured us, after exhaustive studies, that the ball hasn't changed one iota since approximately 1948. So apparently, that can't be it, either.

"Yeah, we were talking about it after the game," Quantrill said. "And I said, 'It's a good thing the balls aren't juiced. Just imagine how far that homer would have gone if they were.' "

Exactly. Those tired old corked-bat, juiced-ball theories aren't going to cut it here. What we need is some good incisive scientific-type explanation, straight out of modern physics.

For some reason, we turned to Paul Quantrill to try to advance one.

"You know, I was a physics major at the University of Wisconsin," Quantrill said. "People don't realize that. I did take a lot of that stuff. But I don't think I remember how that helps you hit a ball over the fence with a broken bat. I must have flunked out before we got to that."

Alas, everyone else we've conferred with apparently flunked out before then, too. The professional pitchers, on the other hand, know all they need to know.

And what they know is: It's sure a lousy time to be pitching for a living.

"It's not very comforting," Quantrill admitted, in a moment of empathy for his Tampa Bay brethren. "You think you just jammed a guy. You give it a little pump with your glove. And the ball ends up on the other side of the fence."

Lucky break of the week, (chapter two)
Now it would be one thing if those broken-bat home runs like Tony Batista's were happening once a half-century. Or even once a decade, for that matter.

But in this crazy age we live in now, they're coming at a slightly faster clip.

Like once a week.

Yes, sir. Sure enough, on Monday in St. Louis, a mere five days after Batista's splinters had finished scattering, Rockies bopper Larry Walker came along to duplicate this ash-shattering feat.

In the sixth inning, Cardinals starter Andy Benes literally sawed off Walker's bat with a pitch.

"It looked," Rockies coach-witticist Rich Donnelly told Week in Review, "like a saw sawed it. It didn't splinter. It wasn't pulp."

But whatever was left of that bat succeeded in propelling the entire baseball over the right-field wall -- even as the bat itself was flying all the way to the outfield grass itself.

"The bat," Donnelly quipped, "went further than I've ever hit a ball."

But outside of the fact that the Tale of the Tape people had to do estimates on the bat and ball, this was a truly surreal scene. Walker ignored the bat and followed the flight of the baseball. And countless observers swore they knew the ball was gone the second it was hit -- split bat or no split bat.

"It was strange," Donnelly said. "It was a like a sling shot. It went 'phoooom.'

"I saw the ball go. Then here comes the bat. As soon as I saw the ball, I knew it was out. Just usually, the guy's not standing there with a splinter in his hand."

So what's a guy to do when he's just hit a home run with a broken bat? Larry Walker merely acted like he'd been doing it all his life.

"He ran down to first holding the handle," Donnelly reported. "You know how (Tsuyoshi) Shinjo hit that home run (for the Mets) and flipped the bat? Larry put his in his pocket -- like a toothpick."

Game of the week
Finally, one more "wow" for our favorite game of the year so far -- Curt Schilling vs. Kevin Brown, Tuesday in Arizona.

One hour, 55 minutes. No walks. One three-ball count all night. No relief pitchers taking 20 minutes to warm up. And just 181 pitches by the two starters combined -- all but 43 of them crossing home plate.

It was only the fifth game in the big leagues in the last 15 years in which both starters threw complete games, but walked nobody. It was the first game in nine years in which both starters threw complete games without reaching 100 pitches.

It made Frank Castillo vs. Jason Johnson (played the next night at Fenway, in a sparkling 3:27) look like the Boston Marathon.

Asked by Week in Review how baseball would be different if all games were like this one, Schilling replied:

"We could play lots of doubleheaders, play the World Series in August and maybe go to a 200-game schedule."

Jayson Stark is a Senior Writer at ESPN.com. Week in Review appears each Friday.

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