The batter hits a grounder to SS. Two outs end the inning. Depending on the runners’ speeds and jumps from base, the obvious play is to attempt to turn a traditional 6-4-3 double play.
But, is it really that odd for a throw to go home, and then to third, in a just-so scenario? Imagine that an ailing Kirk Gibson is on second base and a large Cecil Fielder is on third. A young Rickey Henderson is on first with a huge jump, and in-his-prime Tim Raines just swatted a slowish roller to SS. David Wells can’t get off the mound and get to the ball fast enough to make a play. The IF was already deep for the potential double play, and now the SS has to charge in, snag the ball, and have his throw beat Henderson to second.
Does the SS not throw to home in this scenario? And if so, might the catcher then throw to third to force out a visibly limping Gibson?
Vanishingly rare. I’ve seen one in 40 years of watching baseball, when the runner on second base inexplicably zoned out and forgot to run when the ball was hit.
The runner off of second base gets a big lead. The slowest base-runner can run 70 feet before the fastest batter can finish his swing, drop his bat, and run 90 feet.
Just in case anybody hankers after the details, here is the play-by-play of the 4-2-5 double play that I witnessed. It occurred on July 6, 1992, and the narcoleptic base-runner was Tim Hulett.
I’d be willing to bet that, on the above play in question, the ball was one of those looping weak line drives; the batters were unsure if the 2B would catch it, and held up. The 2B then fielded it on one hop, threw home, and then the catcher threw to third. The ball probably wasn’t high enough for the infield fly rule to be in effect.
No, it was an ordinary ground ball; it was a case of brain lock on the part of Hulett, pure and simple. The catcher took the throw and turned toward first to see if there was a chance for a 4-2-3 double play, and there wasn’t, and only then did he look up and say, “Holy shit! There’s a play at third!”
The umpire first called Hulett safe, thinking it was a tag play, and then changed his call when he realized it was a force. The play was so unusual that his mind wasn’t working in force-out mode.
Defensive positions are assigned numbers for simplifying the hand-scoring of a baseball game. 6 is the shortstop, 2 is the catcher, and 5 is the third baseman.
That’s a very cool play, and very exciting in person. But there is a crucial difference from the conditions of the OP – the out at third was a tag play, not a force-out.
To answer the thread title and not the question in the OP, I’d say that the length you had to go to in defining a situation where 6-2-5 might make sense well answers whether it is rare.
As for how rare it is I can’t find a specific number but finding specific examples online seem to suggest that it is most frequently part of a larger sequence where some baserunner gets cocky.
For example, on May 25 this year, in a White Sox/Devil Rays game the White Sox turned a 1-6-2-5. Men on 1st and 3rd. Comebacker to the pitcher, he throws to second for the force, guy on third tries to score on that throw and doesn’t make it.
I am not finding any references to a pure 6-2-5 in Major League Baseball but I am sure it has happened at some point. I’m sure one of the sabremetrical web sites could find the information.
Expanding the search I find quite a few instances of 6-2-5 DPs in high school and college ball but again they mostly seem to be the result of brainless baserunning rather than the guy on second being so slow as to have this make sense.
In a 6-2-5 double play, the ball goes first to force out the runner at the plate, then force out the runner at third. The reason you don’t often see it is because of this rule, my emphasis:
When you’re trying to end the inning with a double play, the runner heading from third to home is meaningless. If the defense can force out the runners at second and first, no runs score no matter how fast or slow the guy from third base may be.
You’re more likely to see this play when there are no outs in that half of the inning, when the defense must legitimately try to stop the runners from crossing the plate.
It’s usually a lot easier to get the second out at first base than third, since the man leaving second had a running start. So yes, a 6-2-5 instead of 6-2-3 is a fluke, depending on the runner on second either screwing up or having to hold and be ready to tag up before advancing.
I’ll never know why they didn’t start by numbering first, second, and third as 1, 2, and 3.