Lincicome: Right or wrong, baseball is ready to make the call

Despite being annoying and unnecessary, robot umpiring seems here to stay. Any system that eliminates human error is distressing, even in baseball, which deserves whatever it will stand for.

Perfection is a nag, a trap that dulls growth and ambition, not to mention more bases on balls than usual.

The game is no better for ABS (Automated Ball-Strike), the computer judge of what is what than it was when committed humans (UMPs) were trusted to get it right.

Sometimes they got it wrong, creating an urgency to fix the human element of a game that gets it wrong by design. Baseball is nothing but perpetual failure, making infrequent successes all the more precious.

As if play clocks and sliding mitts weren’t off-putting enough, now comes an entirely imagined strike zone, concocted by bionic gremlins in the center-field scoreboard — I just made that up. I don’t know if they do, but everybody seems to think it’s OK — which allows the pitcher, catcher and batter to agree or disagree with the umpire.

And whereas the umpire has had to make an instant decision, the batter or the catcher gets two seconds to challenge. Disagreement is signaled by taping the hat, or the helmet. Seems a bit unbalanced, and in a court of law, unfair to the defendant.

Statistics are still being collected on how this is working out, but it seems that each side’s decisions are correct about half the time. This is coin flip territory.

That’s all baseball needs. Another prop bet.

Anyone ever stopped for speeding hates when protests are ended by a radar gun’s numbers. Can’t argue with 71.2 in a 65 zone. See, got you right here, pal.

Worse yet are unseen cameras detecting no right turns and rolling stops. The traffic fine shows up weeks later. You pay the bill and curse the technology.

At least in baseball the verdict is quicker, generally 20 seconds or so on plate calls, minutes longer if replay cameras are drafted to duty. Getting it right requires consideration.

Arguments are as basic to baseball as speed traps are on Rand Road. There is a whole musical-comedy chorus dedicated to the art. “You’re blind, ump, you’re blind ump, you must be outta your mind, ump,”

Where are we now when high-tech gadgets show a slider clipping the corner, peeking just enough replay pink to send Seiya Suzuki back to the dugout?

Ah, the days of Earl Weaver or Billy Martin kicking dirt on the umpire’s shoes, or Lou Piniella tearing up first base and throwing it into right field.

Now we have a mildly attentive Craig Counsell watching a replay in the dugout, signaling with a flat palm that it is OK with him. Oooh, you can cut the tension with a piece of celery.

I’m afraid baseball, as usual, is a little late to the dance with high-tech interference. Football has had it for years, concentrating more on sideline catches while ignoring holding, but still there is nothing quite as refreshing as watching an official duck under the hood of a replay camera. You know you have time to go get a refill.

Tennis has eliminated line judges altogether, Wimbledon after 147 years of stiffly attired, keen-eyed arbiters.

And still we miss that little punk John McEnroe, much like the unhappy baritone in “Damn Yankees,” screaming at the umpire, “You cannot be serious!” giving McEnroe a career and a title for his autobiography.

It is a matter of time before humans are replaced by machines, or at least that’s what A.I. says.

Robot athletes have their own competitions already, table tennis, track and field, even sumo wrestling. Why not a dashing shortstop or wall climbing center fielder made of the finest high performance polymers?

Come on, please. We are just getting used to Pete Crow-Armstrong and Caitlin Clark.

Humanity is worth saving, mistakes and all.

Consider this. Without human error we would not have penicillin or Post-its, so a little appreciation for the occasional and entirely essential boo boo before it is too late.

And, by the way, I don’t care what Sir ABS says, that ball was a strike.