I'm figuring that this is done mostly against southpaws, since their back is turned to 3B. However, it is a gutsy move. How many times has a guy singled or walk, 2 outs, steals 2B, then steals 3B on the very next pitch? *EVERYBODY IN THE HOUSE* wonders aloud, "Why doesn't he just steal home while he's at it?"
I'm guessing that this lack of expectation of this actually happening may also be shared with the player, especially if two outs. What explans the hesitation? Too much risk? Low percentage chance of success?
As many Brooklyn Dodger and NY Yankee fans may recount from the 1955 WS, the phrase "Was he safe or was he out?" was about Jackie Robinson's theft of home against Yogi Berra, while Yogi to this day contends Jackie was out. Many Brooklyn Dodger fans would feel otherwise.

I saw this nice article, so I figured I'd share.

Associated Press
Besides being the first black player in the majors, Jackie Robinson was renowned for
stealing home. He did so 19 times, including this one against the Boston Braves in 1948.
The Thieves Turn Timid
I'm guessing that this lack of expectation of this actually happening may also be shared with the player, especially if two outs. What explans the hesitation? Too much risk? Low percentage chance of success?
As many Brooklyn Dodger and NY Yankee fans may recount from the 1955 WS, the phrase "Was he safe or was he out?" was about Jackie Robinson's theft of home against Yogi Berra, while Yogi to this day contends Jackie was out. Many Brooklyn Dodger fans would feel otherwise.


I saw this nice article, so I figured I'd share.


Associated Press
Besides being the first black player in the majors, Jackie Robinson was renowned for
stealing home. He did so 19 times, including this one against the Boston Braves in 1948.
The Thieves Turn Timid
PHOENIX — Milton Bradley was about to steal home.
He took his lead, walking slowly and casually, adding a few paces to give himself a head start. He stood upright and tried to be inconspicuous. Then he set his feet shoulder-width apart, dropped into a crouch and dug the soles of his shoes hard into the ground. He was inconspicuous no longer.
He inched onto the balls of his feet and started to bounce, as if revving an internal engine. With every bounce, his eyes seemed to grow wider. Finally, when the timing was just right, he bowed his head, turned his body and churned his legs toward ...
A laundry basket?
Bradley was performing baseball's most dramatic exercise — not on a field, but inside the Oakland Athletics' spring training clubhouse. He was stealing home in slow motion, a major leaguer acting out his Little League fantasy with virtually no one around.
"I've always wanted to do it out there," said Bradley, an outfielder for the A's, motioning beyond the clubhouse walls to the field where his team played an exhibition game in mid-March. "But if you don't make it, you're the biggest idiot in the stadium."
For all the reasons baseball players rarely steal home anymore — pitchers working more often out of the stretch, hitters more capable of driving in runs, managers aiming for big innings — the fear of looking like an idiot ranks near the top of the list.
Baseball has become a game of cold-blooded calculation, with statistics for every occasion, and the notion that a human being could outrun a ball traveling 90 miles an hour is difficult to believe. It defies the logic that rules the sport.
But that did not stop Jackie Robinson, Rod Carew and Pete Reiser from trying, and often transcending common sense. Those three former stars, more than any others, turned stealing home into the most exciting play in baseball. Now it is a relic, gone the way of flannel uniforms and scheduled doubleheaders.
"I miss it," Carew said in a telephone interview. "Since they went to the long ball, guys forgot about that part of the game. They don't know what they're missing. To win a game by stealing home, you can't describe it. You can't describe the feeling."
He took his lead, walking slowly and casually, adding a few paces to give himself a head start. He stood upright and tried to be inconspicuous. Then he set his feet shoulder-width apart, dropped into a crouch and dug the soles of his shoes hard into the ground. He was inconspicuous no longer.
He inched onto the balls of his feet and started to bounce, as if revving an internal engine. With every bounce, his eyes seemed to grow wider. Finally, when the timing was just right, he bowed his head, turned his body and churned his legs toward ...
A laundry basket?
Bradley was performing baseball's most dramatic exercise — not on a field, but inside the Oakland Athletics' spring training clubhouse. He was stealing home in slow motion, a major leaguer acting out his Little League fantasy with virtually no one around.
"I've always wanted to do it out there," said Bradley, an outfielder for the A's, motioning beyond the clubhouse walls to the field where his team played an exhibition game in mid-March. "But if you don't make it, you're the biggest idiot in the stadium."
For all the reasons baseball players rarely steal home anymore — pitchers working more often out of the stretch, hitters more capable of driving in runs, managers aiming for big innings — the fear of looking like an idiot ranks near the top of the list.
Baseball has become a game of cold-blooded calculation, with statistics for every occasion, and the notion that a human being could outrun a ball traveling 90 miles an hour is difficult to believe. It defies the logic that rules the sport.
But that did not stop Jackie Robinson, Rod Carew and Pete Reiser from trying, and often transcending common sense. Those three former stars, more than any others, turned stealing home into the most exciting play in baseball. Now it is a relic, gone the way of flannel uniforms and scheduled doubleheaders.
"I miss it," Carew said in a telephone interview. "Since they went to the long ball, guys forgot about that part of the game. They don't know what they're missing. To win a game by stealing home, you can't describe it. You can't describe the feeling."
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