Why baseball fans don't rush the field anymore

In 1924, the Washington Nationals went to the World Series for the first time and faced the heavily favored New York Giants. In the deciding seventh game, legendary pitcher Walter Johnson came on in relief and held the Giants scoreless until his teammates managed to score the winning run in the 12th inning. The crowd at Griffith Stadium in Washington, D.C. did what any hometown crowd would have done in 1924. They went wild and stormed the field in a state of frenzied jubilation. Fifty years later, invading crowds had become much more aggressive, more willing to damage property, and more at odds with stadium security. When the Yankees won the 1977 World Series at home, star outfielder Reggie Jackson did not stop to hug anyone. He barreled his way through revelers to the dugout before anyone could steal his hat or tear his jersey. With so many people on the field, law enforcement struggled to contain the mayhem, and the televised images served as a warning to other franchises of what could happen without sufficient security. To a certain extent, baseball had always tolerated these cathartic moments involving passionate fans hoping to touch players and celebrate on the same ground where the game had actually occurred. But a shift was underway in the 1980s, and then field invasions disappeared altogether. Postseason celebrations are still exciting to watch, but far more predictable and certainly less raucous by comparison to the 1960s and 70s. When the Boston Red Sox won the World Series at home in 2013, their fans stayed in the grandstands. Such a thing would not have happened 25 years earlier. Let's talk about the history of field invasions, crowd control, drunks, and why fans don't rush the field anymore. In 1876, Chicago businessman William Hulbert convinced professional baseball clubs on the East Coast to join those out West and create a national league. The league would be a respectable institution that banned alcohol inside of the ballpark and policed unruly fans. Besides, at 50 cents per ticket, going to a baseball game was cost prohibitive for most Americans. Hulbert, for his part, firmly believed in crowd control and understood the role alcohol played increasing the volatility of any game. That said, popular demand for drink, plus the revenue derived from its sale, made it difficult for owners to keep booze out of the ballpark or fans off the field. In 1908, Fred Merkel of the New York Giants saw his teammate score from third base at the polo grounds, seen here, in what he assumed was a walk-off win, so he did not bother to touch second base. One reason for this well-known base-running blunder is contextual. Invading fans helped create an unpredictable, confusing situation that at least partially convinced Merkel to head for the dugout instead of second base. Although I should observe that while fans could be emotional and frenzied, they didn't rip anyone's jersey or try to steal a glove. The World Series in 1921 featured a close contest between the New York Giants and New York Yankees. When the Giants won, their fans swarmed the field, eager to shake hands with players and their triumphant manager John McGraw. The team managers congratulated each other on a fair, well-played contest. Press coverage provides a sense of how much the victory meant to Giants' fans, as well as the era's decorum. And by decorum, I don't mean to say hometown bands lack passion or refuse to break rules. During the 1940 World Series between the Detroit Tigers and Cincinnati Reds, the Reds won it and here you can see well-dressed fans jumping over rails and onto Crosley Field. The game ended at 3 p.m., but city drivers honked their horns well into the evening night and people littered streets with confetti from their apartment windows as happy fans paraded below. Winning the World Series was a very big deal at this time, and rushing the field was an established, expected pattern for a hometown crowd. Bill Mazeroski's walk-off home run in the deciding game of the 1960 World Series induced a citywide state of pandemonium at Forbes Field in Pittsburgh. Walk-off home runs are rare, exciting events whenever they occur, but in this instance it was Game 7 of the World Series and Pirates fans went wild. Trends considered wild by older Americans manifested themselves in the late 60s. Young men grew their hair long and young women wore blue jeans. Before 1965 most men wore suits to the ballpark, not shorts and a t-shirt. Morgana, the kissing bandit, made her debut in 1969 and continued kissing players and getting arrested for it in the decades to come. Streaking took off in the 70s as more and more fans were getting onto the field during sporting events. It was a decade of increased inebriation and reduced inhibition. When Hank Aaron eclipsed Babe Ruth's career home run record in 1974, it was an exciting moment for baseball, but it really says something that two fans thought it would be a good idea to get on the field and congratulate Aaron instead of staying in their seats. As the country got drunker and more drug-addled, a darker side of professional baseball came into focus. Individuals keen to cause mischief would come to games with concealable liquor bottles and become very intoxicated. Much like the earliest days of professional baseball, these drunks would yell Teams were not always helpful with respect to preventing problems. For example, the Cleveland Indians had beer promotions, including one Tencent Beer Night in 1974 that witnessed streakers, fireworks, and a full-blown riot in the ninth inning after heavily intoxicated spectators got onto the field and attacked the opposing team. Five years later, a Chicago radio personality named Steve Dahl organized a stunt at Comiskey Park in Chicago where attendees could bring their disco records to the park for their public demolition. Well, the stunt got ugly fast when the amped-up crowd stormed the field, climbed foul poles, lit fires, and refused to leave until the Chicago police arrived in force. Incidents like these ones compelled teams and cities to get more serious about curtailing fan misbehavior. For example, Philadelphia's leaders resolved to prevent chaotic celebrations like the ones they had seen in New York in 1976 and 1977. They did not want fans mobbing players or tearing up bases at Veterans Stadium if the Phillies won the 1980 World Series. Well, with the Phillies ahead in the seventh inning of game six, mounted police galloped onto the field and behind the outfield walls. Meanwhile, intimidating canine units positioned themselves in foul territory and faced the crowd. Fans booed their disapproval, but mostly stayed put after the game ended. Journalists, for their part, had had enough of sports hooligans and they generally supported these strong-arm measures. St. Louis tried to do the same thing as Philadelphia without success. The city deployed 150 police officers, 20 dogs, and 12 horses to control Cardinals fans who swarmed the field after the final out of the 1982 World Series. The city's flustered assistant police chief said not even the Missouri National Guard would have been able to keep order. Let's listen to Dick Enberg make his call. The players converged around the mound. The police arrive on the scene. The canine patrol and the mounted patrol sometimes managed to get on the field, but they needn't do that and they won't be out there very long. Historian and statistician Bill James observed something about going to watch baseball games at Royals Stadium in Kansas City. Beginning in 1983, loud drunks were noticeably scarce by comparison to the previous years and it had to do with the implementation of new policies. Franchises by this point had stopped ill-advised beer promotions and some started checking bags for hidden booze at the gate. Across baseball, franchises stopped allowing fans to enter with a cooler or purchase alcohol after the seventh inning. Security personnel received orders to remove loud, abusive fans in accordance with newly established codes of conduct. Owners did not want their stadiums perceived as dangerous environments. While drunk rowdies could see the writing on the wall, it was better to get plastered and start fights somewhere else. But back to field invasions. They kept happening. Many fans probably regarded rushing the field as a God-given right, no different from owning a firearm or speaking freely. Here are the Mets winning the National League East in 1986. The announcers expressed hopes for a good time without injuries and that no harm would come to Shea Stadium. Two years later, the Dodgers clinched the pennant at home. Fans did get on the field, but not as many as in New York two years before. Storming the field was on its way out. As far as I can tell, the last time fans invaded the field was on October 2, 1995 at Seattle's Kingdom. That's when the Mariners clinched their very first postseason berth after nearly two decades of struggling in the American League. And who can blame Mariners fans for going just a little nuts? Watching Seattle's fans celebrate on the field is striking because it hasn't happened at Major League level in decades. Sure, fans occasionally get on the field and give chase, usually to the delight of crowds, but it's not a crowd action. I point this out not to be nostalgic or sentimental about field invasions, only that norms of behavior have changed. Let's consider a few of the reasons that help explain why. First, crime surged in the United States during the 1970s and 1980s, which set the table for cities and politicians to get tough in the 1990s. Famously, Times Square in New York City went from being a landmark associated with peep shows and muggings to well-lit streets and Disney-like appeal. Mirroring that trend, Major League teams have increased stadium security, both inside and outside of the ballpark. Fans want to feel safe, and field invasions would be more difficult in view of all the cameras, police, and non-existent outfield exits. Second, safety is big nowadays. Children are supervised constantly, and there is less tolerance for unpredictable, potentially dangerous environments. Franchises know Americans are quick to cry foul and sue, so the fear of lawsuits is another significant factor. Third, going to the ballpark is more expensive than ever. That may keep some of the rowdiest fans away, but it also limits public access. Affordable tickets and concessions made the ballpark a democratic venue 50 years ago, and players earned just four to five times more money than the average American. That fact is one reason why fans could imagine their team and its field belonging to the community. Today, owners make billions, players make millions, and the price of tickets is cost prohibitive. In short, the social distance between fans and franchises is greater. In contrast, college stadiums remain one sporting environment with regular field invasions. After all, colleges are home to a single student body that takes classes together, and it is devoid of millionaire athletes. University officials, while certainly concerned about issues of safety and liability, have continued to tolerate masses of students who occupy their playing field in communal celebration. Hey, thanks for watching this one. It was fun to create, and I look forward to your comments.