It’s early March and the annual ritual known as Spring Training is well under way. This means baseball season is right around the corner, and with it, that other annual ritual, yelling at the umpire, is right around the corner too.

I’ve always loved baseball but I’ve never understood why anyone would want to be an umpire. At every level, they are subjected to endless ridicule (I’ve just discovered there are entire websites devoted to jokes about umpires), as well as constant second-guessing. Doug Harvey, who was a Major League umpire for thirty years, once said about his job, “When I am right, no one remembers. When I am wrong, no one forgets.”

He’s right about that. I still remember a call at an Oakland A’s game in 1994. Bobby Witt was on the mound and he had a perfect game going. A perfect game! I was in the ballpark four years earlier when Nolan Ryan threw his sixth no-hitter. That was certainly a thrill. But this was a perfect game! Then in the 6th inning, with one out, Greg Gagne laid down a bunt and was called safe at first. Perhaps at a later date, I'll write about one of baseball's unwritten rules regarding breaking up a no-hitter with a bunt (but then I guess it wouldn't be unwritten?). Anyway, it was obvious to everyone in the admittedly partisan crowd that he was out. It was all very clear to me. I could not believe that the guy standing a few feet from the play got it wrong when I could clearly see he was out from the most excellent vantage point provided by my seat way out in the left field bleachers.

I did happen to be looking through a 600mm lens at the time. Unfortunately as you can see, it wasn’t one of my better shots. But later, replays would confirm the call I made from the left field bleachers was correct. Gagne was the only man to reach base all day and he should have been out. The perfect game was ruined.

Then years later, when the boys were playing Little League baseball, and a lot of the other dads volunteered to umpire, I steered clear of that duty. I figured I’d be terrible at it and was sure I would hate it. Besides, there were plenty of other things to volunteer for, which is how I served three years as the League President. Rather than balls and strikes I ended up dealing with irate parents and league politics. That might sound worse than umpiring but as far as I know there are no web sites filled with league president jokes.

And then one day it happened. I showed up for a game and there wasn’t an umpire in sight. A plea went out to the parents in attendance.  One of the other dads agreed to ump behind the plate if I would take the field. Reluctantly I agreed. The league president couldn’t very well be the cause of a game being canceled. And maybe, I thought, I’ll be better at it than I imagined. 

The younger boy was playing third base that day. It was the first time he’d ever played the position. Like any parent I was nervous for him but I tried to ignore it. The game went on and luckily there were no close calls and the pitcher was definitely not throwing a perfect game.

Just when I thought I might pull the whole thing off, there was a ground ball to third base. I can still hear the inner play by play in my head.        

         “Come on, get in front of it, and make the play.”

And he did. So far, it was a textbook play.

         “That’s it!” Good! Now, make a good throw.”

He did that too, with a nice strong throw across the diamond.

         “Oh, I think he got him.”

Then for a few moments the park was quiet. I waited to see if I was right and he had indeed gotten the out. Eventually it occurred to me that everyone else was waiting too. They were waiting for a call from the umpire, who as it turned out, was me. I recovered, called the kid out and realized I’d been right to choose irate parents over balls and strikes.

I suppose the moral of the story is that before we criticize the umpires we should walk a mile in their cleats or something like that. While I do admit to having a greater appreciation for the difficulty of an umpire’s job, I have no doubt that like everyone else, I’ll be complaining about some call in no time at all. And this year, thanks to those websites, I’ve got all new material. Now if I could just come up with some league president jokes…