For a league obsessed with precision yet married to human error, MLB just tripped over its own strike zone. The numbers are in, and let’s just say they don’t exactly flatter the umpires. Rob Manfred and Co. may not have planned to speed up the revolution, but the backlash brewing in bullpens and broadcast booths alike might leave them no choice. Even nostalgia has a pitch limit.

At this point, it feels like the more we complain about the umpiring, the more bad calls they make. The face of bad umpiring might be Angel Hernandez, but the board of bad umpiring has a large number of members who have major shares in the company. And the recent numbers reveal the MLB needs to make a decision on the ABS after looking at the impact in the All-Star Game.

The Umpire Auditors are an X handle that shows the bad calls the umpires have made this season. They posted, “Umpires missed 15,820 calls during the first half. These were the 10 worst called strikeouts,” and some of the decisions in the top 10 were just unbelievable.

The top ten had some big names like Scott Barry, Jonathan Parra, and Laz Diaz. Major League Baseball’s umpiring has taken a statistical nosedive, and the numbers aren’t pretty. In just the first half of the 2025 season, umpires missed a staggering 15,820 ball-strike calls, a figure that surpasses full-season totals from previous years. To put that in perspective: 2024 had 14,880 missed calls across the entire season. At this rate, 2025 is on pace to eclipse 30,000—a full-on crisis disguised as tradition.

The consequences aren’t just theoretical—they played out on the biggest stage at the All-Star Game. In that Midsummer Classic, five ABS challenges were issued, and four were successful, instantly correcting blown calls. Tarik Skubal struck out Manny Machado on a pitch that was initially ruled a ball, only to be reversed by technology. One wrong call, one denied at-bat, and momentum swings like a hanging curve left in the zone.

Commissioner Manfred knows the inbox doesn’t lie, and it’s been blowing up with fan fury. “Emails about bad balls and strike calls have gone up like crazy,” he told The Pat McAfee Show. He further admitted, “Using ABS in spring training has made people more prone to complain.” While Manfred insists umpires won’t be replaced, his tone now suggests that resistance is becoming unreasonable.

The league’s competition committee—where MLB holds the majority—will vote later this summer on ABS’s full adoption. Manfred has proposed a challenge-based ABS system, giving teams two challenges per game to question ball-strike calls. “We bargained for the right to make these kinds of rule changes,” he said confidently. And this time, nostalgia might not win—because technology has already started calling the shots.

If baseball insists on being a game of inches, then it can’t afford mile-wide mistakes. The All-Star Game proved what the regular season keeps shouting—technology isn’t the future; it’s the fix. MLB can either embrace the ABS era or keep letting nostalgia undermine its credibility. Because right now, the strike zone is fluid, the outrage is solid, and the only thing robotic is the league’s delay.

MLB fans are making it clear what they want to see from MLB

Major League Baseball keeps selling tradition, but fans aren’t buying missed calls and makeup pitches anymore. The league can tweak uniforms, pace, and pitch clocks all it wants—until the strike zone makes sense, none of it matters. With every blown call and absurd punchout, the voices grow louder. MLB hears them now. Because when even the All-Star Game needs fact-checking, it’s no longer just a bad night—it’s bad business.

“This has convinced me, after seeing it in the ASG, replay is 100% needed…” Skubal’s strike on Machado, first missed, then overturned, showed exactly why this tech matters. One pitch, one moment, and suddenly the entire inning’s narrative flips from frustration to fairness. If four of five All-Star challenges exposed egregious calls, what’s happening nightly when stakes are real?

“Mets sure get a lot of calls” hits differently when three of the top ten go their way. When nearly a third of the worst misses benefit one team, eyebrows don’t just raise—they arch. It’s probably a coincidence… or the most consistent thing about their season. Either way, the strike zone shouldn’t come with optional team branding.

“Yet we can track home runs to the billionth of an inch in the derby, right @MLB?” That one comment cut sharper than any slider missed by two inches on strike three. MLB’s tech can measure launch angles like a NASA satellite, but still trusts vibes for strikes. Precision in entertainment, guesswork in competition—apparently, the tape measure’s only accurate when there’s no one batting with runners on.

“ABS can’t come soon enough…” isn’t a complaint—it’s a rallying cry wrapped in exhaustion. Umpires aren’t just missing—they’re redefining the strike zone like abstract art with a chest protector. Each blown call feels like baseball gaslighting its own rulebook in broad daylight. If the game wants credibility back, ABS better arrive faster than a Chapman fastball in July.

“Yeah, pitch-framing should be banned” might sound extreme—until you see elite deception in action. Some missed calls aren’t umpiring failures, just Oscar-worthy performances behind the plate, fooling everyone, including cameras. But when artistry overrides accuracy and punishes hitters, it’s no longer part of the game. If framing wins strikes, not pitches, maybe it’s time baseball banned the act, not the batter.

The All-Star Game was supposed to showcase baseball’s best, not its biggest blind spots. When fans are quoting missed calls like stat lines, the conversation isn’t about innings—it’s about integrity. MLB can’t keep pitching nostalgia while the strike zone floats like a rumor. The evidence is in, the voices are loud, and the tape doesn’t lie. At this point, clinging to the old way isn’t tradition—it’s denial in a chest protector.