In the real trenches—the lower rungs of amateur baseball like Little League, high school ball and some sad-sack college teams—with runners at first and third, the game tilts. It's the situation most challenging to most young infields, and almost always in that situation, with less than two out, things happen. The middle infielders and the catcher are all keen to keep that runner on first from swiping second and that runner at third from scoring in the process. It gets them up on their toes, which doesn't help as much as an ability to make bullet throws—to throw strikes—all the way down, and all the way back home. Most young infields can do the toe part, but not the throw part.
The classic Little League play involves the runner taking off from first on the pitch, forcing the catcher to consider throwing down to second. Depending on the score and the inning, the runner on third may be crucial or irrelevent. But a tight game is what I'm talking about—game stakes. It's important to keep that first runner out of scoring position, and to leave the faint doubleplay option open, while holding that other guy at third.
So the runner on first is running for second, and the runner on third is waiting to see the throw sail past the pitcher so he can race home ahead of the return throw. Think about it: two very good (if not perfect) long throws are required for the defense to nail that runner at the plate. It's a long-shot gamble for most amateur defenses, so they don't do it.
They have other ideas. The catcher whips the ball back to the pitcher, who immediately turns to third to see if that runner has strayed off or broken for home. If not, well, the first runner steals second. So now it's second and third—not so good.
The catcher can also pump-fake—pretend to throw—toward secondbase, then whip the ball down to third to try to get that eager runner. At the lowest levels this results in a loose ball in leftfield, so the runner on third scores, then the leftfielder heaves it into the crowd or over the backstop, and the second runner scores too. Again, not so good.
The best idea with amateur ballplayers of all ages is to have the second baseman or shortstop cut the throw off behind the pitcher's mound—well short of second base. They have to cheat in and charge hard on the pitch in order to get in good position do this, but if they catch a throw there behind the mound, they can nail that thirdbase runner at the plate, or get him going back to third, or freeze him by charging right at him. This actually works sometimes. But it takes practice—the timing's critical, and all throws have to be good, else it's off to the races.
The beautifully bush-league variant is the delayed steal—the firstbase runner takes off late for second, or better yet, strolls in its general direction like he's on his way to the principal's office. Some teams have the runner go halfway then purposefully fall down. These maneuvers often see all but the best-disciplined defense crumble, with the fog of baseball descending and a three-ring circus ensuing.
None of this applies to the bigs, of course. Those guys make those bullet throws, and unless the runner on third is a world-class sprinter, he'll be nailed at the plate. Occasionally, though, you do see some variation of the first-and-third circus in a major league game. It comes down quickly, that fog, and grown men can get lost in it like little boys.
It's redemptive, in a sense, when the big-guy game retreats from perfection, falling back for a moment into its Little League trance. It's the kind of thing that fans can talk about all the way home on the train, and feel more connected.