Baseball is changing. And while I’ve made my peace with bigger bases and even begrudgingly come around on the pitch clock, I can’t help but feel uneasy about the latest development Major League Baseball is flirting with—the Automated Ball-Strike System (ABS). After extensive testing during Spring Training, MLB released data showing that 52.2% of ball-strike challenges resulted in successful overturns of the home-plate umpire’s original call. Pitchers had a 54.4% overturn rate, while hitters were successful 50% of the time. Interestingly, catchers were the most successful challengers, with a 56% success rate—far higher than the 41% success rate of pitchers’ challenges.

The data is impressive, but here’s the question I can’t stop asking: Should Major League Baseball adopt this system?

Why I’m Not Sold on ABS

Look, I’m not resistant to change. I was all for the universal DH, I love that the bigger bases have brought back the art of the stolen base, and while I was initially against the pitch clock (and still think it’s unnecessary), I can appreciate that it’s shaved off some of the dead time and kept the game moving. But when it comes to ABS, I just can’t get behind it. Call me old-fashioned, but I believe that human error is part of the game—and more importantly, so is strategy.

Every umpire has his own unique strike zone. As long as he calls it consistently, players adapt without issue. They know that Dan Iassogna might give you that low strike on Friday night, but CB Bucknor may not call that same pitch a strike on Saturday. Figuring out each umpire’s tendencies has always been part of the chess match that makes baseball such a beautifully intricate game. Pitchers adjust. Hitters adjust. And managers? They game plan for it.

Baseball is Chess, Not Checkers

Baseball has never been about absolutes. It’s about nuances. It’s about knowing that Angel Hernandez might have a generous outside corner or that Pat Hoberg is as close to perfection as you can get. The ability to read the strike zone of the man behind the plate and adjust accordingly is as much a part of the game as reading a pitcher’s delivery or figuring out a batter’s weaknesses. ABS takes that away.

If we’re going to tailor the strike zone to each individual hitter’s height or batting stance, shouldn’t it stand to reason that the umpire’s perspective should also be part of the equation? It may sound antiquated, but that’s part of what makes the game feel so human—and so beautifully unpredictable.

A Slippery Slope

While it’s true that players like Armando Galarraga might sleep better at night knowing that human error is slowly being removed from the game, I worry that we’re sanitizing baseball to the point where it loses its magic. We’ve already seen the ghost runner in extra innings strip away the drama of those marathon games, and I’m still not over that. ABS feels like another step toward turning this beautiful, unpredictable game into something sterile and over-controlled.

Baseball isn’t supposed to be perfect. It’s supposed to be real. And real means the occasional blown call that turns into a legendary story. Real means the satisfaction of watching a pitcher figure out an umpire’s zone and carve hitters up because of it. That advanced knowledge of the game, its hitters, and all its intricates is what earns Greg Maddux a nickname like ‘The Professor.’ Real means human.

So, What’s Next?

I understand that technology can enhance the game, and I’m not advocating for a complete rejection of progress. But at what cost? If we remove too many of the quirks and nuances that make baseball what it is, are we left with a game that feels more like a simulation than a sport? Maybe I’m too much of a baseball purist for some, but I think ABS would take some of the magic out of the game. And haven’t we already lost enough of that?

So, I’ll leave you with this: Do we really want a perfect strike zone if it means losing the soul of the game? For me, the answer is clear. I’ll take the occasional missed call if it means keeping the heart of baseball intact.