Originally published 19 May 1997
When: October 28, 2007
Where: Fenway Park, Boston.
What: Best-of-five series between the Boston Red Sox and IBM’s computer-robotic baseball team Deep Field.
Dan Duquette, long-time Red Sox general manager, rises to IBM’s challenge to match his team against the latest in personal robots. Duquette is the only major league general manager who agrees to meet the robots, perhaps because he admires their style of play and low-maintenance contracts.
The potential payoff is huge. Worldwide television rights plus auxiliary rights are worth hundreds of millions of dollars.
Boston Globe sportswriter Dan Shaughnessy says: “What’s the big deal? It’s not like we’ve never had robots at Fenway before. Remember the Old Towne team of the late 90s — there were just as many mechanical stiffs on that team. Anyone with half a brain and a love of the game will stay at home.”
Others are less dismissive. “Humanity’s last stand,”” says one commentator. An editorial writer in the Boston Herald recalls the match between IBM’s chess-playing computer and Garry Kasparov in 1997: “When Deep Blue beat Kasparov we could still claim physical superiority — the sweet contact of wood on leather that sends the ball into Landsdowne Street, the lightning-fast pitch that waltzes its way to the plate, the long, flawless throw from deep center that meets the catcher’s glove at the runner’s leg. Now we stand to lose even that.”
“The robots play National League baseball,” says Bob Lobel of Channel 4. “They are focused on strategy. But the Red Sox offense will pound them into submission.”
The IBM support team is not taking chances. Among their consultants is former Sox star Roger Clemens, who finds himself working with top mechanical engineers to finesse robotic movements. Mike Gimbel, meter reader and ex-Sox stat man, is working closely with IBM programmers.
“I know some folks in Boston think Roger and I have gone over to the enemy,” says Gimbel, “but as a sabermetrician, having access to an IBM supercomputer is an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”
Game One opens to a packed stadium. Even at 60 bucks for a bleacher seat, the fans are eager to see the boys of summer trash the robots. When Deep Field takes the field, the park erupts with boos.
But a hush quickly falls over the crowd when they see the agility with which the robots wheel around the grass. As the robots warm up, the ball snaps from base to base with unerring accuracy and surprising speed.
At the 7th inning stretch, the robots lead by 5 runs and the Sox have gone through half their pitching staff. The mood of the fans is morose. Then, in the top of the 9th, the robot shortstop hits a pop fly homer into the left field screen and morose turns to despair.
Game Two is a Sox disaster. Deep Field’s master computer displays managerial savvy by pulling a double-switch late in the game. The robot pitcher hurls a perfect 27 up, 27 down. Fans leave the stadium in tears.
“What we saw last night at Fenway represents the end of baseball as we know it,” laments sportswriter Bob Ryan in the Globe. “Transcendence is replaced by transistors. Grace is undone by grease.”
Game Three, the Red Sox rebound. The sun field in right plays havoc with the robot photocells. Pop flies are missed or dropped. The fans are delighted. Sox manager Tim Naehring plays the percentages, bringing in left-handed pitchers against left-handed robot batters. IBM has failed to program the machines for switch- hitting. This oversight costs them dearly. The Sox win by two runs.
The hometown team also takes Game Four. The robots try a suicide squeeze and the Sox pitch out. “These robots are…well, robotic,” says an optimistic Tim Naehring. “They haven’t a clue how to vary from their programmed course. We can anticipate their every move.”
A one-day break before the final game. The IBM support team scurries to get the machines in order. Programs are rewritten, algorithms refined, mechanisms oiled. Roger Clemens quits in disgust when IBM technonerds fail to take his advice.
Play ball! Game Five. Deep Field is newly aggressive. In the first inning the robot pitcher throws inside to Sox veteran Nomar Garciaparra. Nomar charges the mound. The robot is oblivious to Nomar’s rants. The furious Sox shortstop throws a punch — and breaks his hand against steel. Players storm from the Red Sox dugout, but the robots coolly shut down their circuits and wait them out. By the time the game resumes the Sox are thoroughly demoralized.
The score see-saws. It’s the 10th inning, the score tied 5 – 5. Two outs. The IBM master computer grinds through a century of statistics, searching for the optimum play. Signals are flashed from the Deep Field dugout. The robot batter drives a grounder towards the feet of the Red Sox first baseman…
The rest, as they say, is history.
Duquette fires Tim Naehring as Red Sox manager and rents an IBM main frame.
