Routine Moments in Baseball History: Why Everyone Hates the Sacrifice Bunt

Welcome back to Routine Moments in Baseball History, a running weekday feature that looks back at plays that have been ignored by the history books because history books only talk about things that are important or interesting. Today's installment is "Why Everyone Hates the Sacrifice." 

California Angels second baseman Rob Wilfong laid down a perfect sacrifice bunt in an August 14, 1984, game against the Detroit Tigers—now let's stop for a moment and talk about why that was so stupid.

Everyone who's followed the statistics revolution in baseball even casually knows about how dumb sacrifice bunts are. Statheads have written countless long, exasperated essays explaining their relatively simple reasoning: When you run out of outs, you lose. Giving away outs is therefore super, super bad. Laying down a suicide squeeze is OK because if it's successful you'll get a run; bunting for a base hit is also fine, obviously, and so is having a pitcher sacrifice bunt, since they'll almost definitely make an out anyway. But having a decent hitter throw away an at-bat just to advance a runner is wasteful and stupid and usually only done because that's the way it's always been done—which is exactly the sort of thing that makes sabermetricians claw their hair out in despair. (Refusing to give away outs is not some newfangled notion, either. Baltimore Orioles manager Earl Weaver famously hated the sacrifice bunt as much as anyone.)

So back to our game: Wilfong laid down his bunt in the top of the seventh when the Angles were leading 4-3 with a man on first and nobody out. A fairly routine sacrifice situation, in other words. What made it an easier decision for manager John McNamera was that Wilfong was not a useful offensive player. He didn't hit for power, he didn't hit for average, he didn't get on base, and when he did get on base he didn't have the speed to steal. That explains the bunt, but not why he was hitting second—sabermetricians are rocking back and forth at the idea of a guy with a .248/.296//658 line being so close to the top of the batting order—or why he racked up over 300 at-bats during the 1984 season. He was undoubtedly a solid fielder and had a cool mustache, but the Angles were in the middle of a close playoff race in what was a very weak AL West, and the fact that he got so much playing time for them probably contributed to their eventual second-place finish. I have no emotional investment in the 1984 Angels—none at all, I can't emphasize that enough—but the idea of Rob Wilfong batting second and throwing down sacrifice bunts when every out mattered is pissing me off, 30 years later. I need to calm down.

OK, anyway. Wilfong was a good sacrifice bunter—he had a league-leading 25 sacrifices back in 1979—so he put the ball right between the pitcher and the second baseman. He was forced out at first and went back to the dugout to an appreciative nod from McNamera (sabermetricians are pouring gasoline on themselves at this thought), and the rest of the inning went like you'd expect: The Tigers walked Fred Lynn intentionally since he was one of the Angels' best hitters and they wanted to set up a double play, then Doug DeCinces fouled out to the catcher and Brian Downing hit an easy fly ball to the outfield. Inning over, two men left on, one out wasted.

This has been Routine Moments in Baseball. Follow Harry Cheadle on Twitter.