I was at a minor league game in Lynchburg, Virginia back in the seventies. It was a double-header, so the games were 7-inning games.
The stadium had a small foul area behind home plate, and the press box was near even with the field above the seats.
The game was going badly for the home team, a farm team for the Mets. All the umpire calls weren’t going their way. The game was running long.
A little better than halfway through the first game, the homeplate umpire looks up to the press box and points to his wrist as if to say, “What time it it?” I guess he was concerned about getting dinner.
The guy in the press box hollars down, “It’s the fifth inning!” Everyone was laughing hysterically.
More foul territory would help too. More foul territory, more foul outs. More foul outs, speedier game (a bit, anyway.) And while it’s not that exciting, it’s more action than a strikeout.