A Pittsburgh scribe, in commenting on the dead failure of the scheme to organize a new American Association, one object of which was to levy war upon the now permanently established rule of the National Agreement clubs, very pointedly said last winter that "such a scheme would be folly of the maddest kind. There is not a good reason, theoretical or practical, sentimental or otherwise, in support of it. The success of base ball, to a very great extent, depends on public sentiment, and we have seen what a base ball war did to that sentiment four years ago. There is one solid basis for all base ball organizations, and that is the reserve rule. The proposed organization ignores this fundamental and necessary principle, and consequently can only be compared to that foolish man who built a house on sand." During the decade of the eighties the League's code of rules had this special clause in it: "Any player who shall be in any way interested in any bet or wager on the game in which he takes part, either as a player, umpire, or scorer, shall be suspended from legal service as a member of any professional Association club for the season during which he shall have violated this rule." The question is, Why was this important and much-needed rule taken from the code? No player can play ball as he should do who is personally interested in any bet on the content he is engaged in; that is a fact too true to be contradicted. Independent of this fact, too. Experience has plainly shown that the step of betting on a game he plays in is but a short one from accepting bribes to lose a game. The rule should long ago have been replaced in the code. The Cleveland Leader says: "The patrons of the game have begun to realize the true inwardness of scientific batting, as shown in the securing of single bases by well-timed place hits, safe taps of swiftly-pitched balls to short outfield, and skilful efforts in sacrifice hitting and bunting, every such hit forwarding a run or sending a run in. Of course, to occupants of the bleaching boards, as a rule, the great attraction is the long hit for a home run, which is made at the cost of a 120-yards sprint, and at the loss of all chances for skilful fielding. But to the best judges of scientific batting the safe tap of the swiftly pitched ball, the well-judged bunt or the effort to make a safe hit to right field, which, if it fails, at least yields a sacrifice hit, is far more attractive than the old rut of slugging for home runs and making fungo hits to the outfielders."