Season 2: Opening Act

No promises to myself or anyone else how long I maintain this, but for this season, I’m officially starting out 1-for-1.

Welcome to the 2009 baseball season!

The weather in Seattle today was perfectly agreeable for a baseball game. When contrasted with the weather of the second half of March 2008, it was very much an unexpected surprise to even be considering wearing short sleeves for my season debut. Despite that optimism, however, the clouds (or haze?) managed to stifle the sun just enough in the time between leaving my house and arriving at the field a mere four miles away to make the jacket an easy, and ultimately correct, call.

Paralleling the improvement in climate conditions over my first game last year was the comfort and confidence level today. Despite it being my first game since early September and admittedly not having done nearly as much rules study as I’d have liked, I felt immediately at ease on the field. I wouldn’t say it’s quite like riding a bike, but it’s in the same vein as that sentiment. I’m conditioned to simply feel better about the world in general when the weather and circumstances tell my biological barometer than baseball is in the air. Well, being dressed to umpire on a warm and sunny day in the Pacific Northwest is about as telling as it gets.

And, to clarify, I did feel great out there today.

The game allowed me to settle in pretty comfortably. None of the several pitchers did anything remotely resembling a balk. I had maybe three close-ish plays on the bases through the seven innings, but nothing close enough to raise even the most-biased eyebrow.

My partner (we’ll use P1 from here on out) did throw me an early curve ball. With a runner on third in the top of the first inning, I settled into the C position (behind and to the right of the mound, for those of you inexplicably reading an umpire blog who aren’t umpires). P1 started giving me a subtle hand gesture to move to my left towards first base. I took a step in that direction, without really knowing why. He repeated the signal, but I just ignored it and stayed in my spot. As the first pitch was delivered, I realized he was telling me I was meant to be in the B position.

I was stunned! Had I forgotten something so basic to umpiring over the break? Is there an evaluator in the stands dialing his mobile phone telling the association how the big-shot Rookie of the Year from last year doesn’t even know where he’s meant to be? I was rapidly scanning my brain pan for what I remembered about positions. Ultimately, I decided I was pretty sure that I had taken the right spot on the field, but was a little shaken in my faith.

Breaking one of my little rules (on the first day) I went in to check with P1 to see what he had for me. As you umpires have already determined, P1 was also suffering from a little early-spring rust. He told me he was trying to signal to me that he realized his error. I told him I missed that part as I was completely trying to figure things out at that point. We had a bit of a laugh and didn’t meet up again until we were walking off the field.

My one bonehead play of the day came in the bottom of the sixth when the pitcher came in high and tight to the batter who was checking his swing, but not fast enough to get the bat out of the way of the ball, which seemed to hit the bottom of the bat and roll into fair territory. I heard from behind the plate a loud exclamation of “NO,” whereupon I was confused about what was happening because I processed the “NO” rather than excluding it from what was happening. I was in the ‘working area’ behind the mound and didn’t move other than to stand up straight and wait for P1 to make some sort of call. The pitcher alertly fielded the ball and started running toward first, at which point the first baseman figured he should probably cover the bag. P1 declared the batter “out.”

I missed my call. That was my responsibility, but I allowed what I now assume to be one of the fans from behind the fence to enter my thought process. Thankfully, it did not effect the outcome, but I will be thankful for the early-season lesson.

This reminds me that early in the game, one of the parents (I assumed it was a parent) shouted as the pitch was being delivered, “There’s a girl on the field!” Seeing how we were indeed in a public park/community center, this was certainly possible and would be a hazard to a child, I turned around to check, as I assume did several others. She then loudly said, “I was just checking!” and had a nice loud self-congratulatory laugh.

I was utterly annoyed at such an immature prank from an adult. We’ve all heard about the boy who cried wolf. Again, this is a situation where I should not really even be hearing or acknowledging noise from the fans, but when safety is involved, you can’t really be too sure. I tend to give parents the benefit of the doubt, but this was a pretty poor example to be setting. Let’s hope we don’t get any repeat performances of similar nature.

Enjoy the season!

First Varsity Game of the Season

First, I’ve decided to move my football officiating posts to this blog. Not sure why I thought it would be a good idea to have it separate from this one, but I think it’s just silly now, so here it is.

Tonight was my first ‘Friday Night Lights’ game of the season.

That book and TV show title seems to have just become the phrase for Friday night high school varsity football and it also seems very much appropriate.

The lights do seem to shine a bit brighter on Friday night, to be sure.

Friday night varsity games mean having a full pre-game meeting with the officiating crew, discussing mechanics and responsibilities. It was nice to go over things, just to get clarification on things and to know what everyone’s intentions and expectations were going to be. I felt like it helped better prepare me for the game.

One of the really nice things about varsity games compared to other levels is that, as a Head Linesman, you get to work with an experienced chain crew. On other nights, you have to really spend a lot of time managing the kids enlisted to work the line-to-gain equipment. Tonight, I had three guys who really knew what to do and one guy who was learning from the other three. With the exception of having to have the down number corrected on one down, they were pretty much flawless on the night and allowed me to really keep my eyes on the players.

It was nice. Thanks fellas!

The game was a complete mismatch. The opening kickoff was returned for a touchdown, setting the tone for the evening. Two long passes and a punt return later, and it was 28-0 pretty quickly.

One of the more-interesting plays came on a kickoff following one of the many first-half scores. As the ball appeared to be heading for the end zone and a touchback, the player back to receive the kickoff just let the ball go. Of course, the ball took and funny bounce an avoided breaking the plane of the goal line, whereupon athletes starting unsuccessfully attempting to pick the ball up and run and then trying to fall on the ball.

Somewhere in the mess, we ended up with a touchback. Though a whistle was blown potentially a second early and there was mass confusion by most as to what happened, it was decided that a touchback was the result of the play. At halftime, the referee thought he might have blown his whistle too quickly. The play happened near my sideline, so I was nearby, but didn’t have the angle. However, from where I was standing and watching, I thought we had a touchback as well, so I guess all is well as far as I’m concerned.

Of course, then I had to have an inadvertent whistle.

I had been doing a very good job, if I do say so myself, on controlling my whistle and not blowing dead anything unless the play was to my side and I had the view of the ball. So, it was very, very odd for me when I was looking at a player on the ground holding the ball while I came in from the sideline blowing my whistle, only to then turn my head downfield and see a pile of players and the ball being spotted by the line judge about five yards further than where I had just spotted the ball myself.

I STILL would tell you I saw the ball, but it was obvious to everyone else that the play had gotten by me somehow. The fortunate part is that I was so slow on my whistle on my phantom play that the actual play was being blown dead maybe half-a-second after my whistle. Hence, we didn’t really have an inadvertent whistle, but it was not a proud moment for me. In fact, it may have been my grossest error so far in football officiating.

Later in the first half, the visiting team, now up 35-0 and with less than a minute left before halftime, ran a pass play that ended up getting near the goal line. Fortunately, I was keeping with the play pretty well and was able to see the receiver attempt to spin out of a tackle and stretch for the goal line, only for his butt to hit the ground with the ball half a yard short of the goal. I came running in while whistling loudly and pointing to the ground.

At least I had a good call to balance the bad one.

Where’s the Ball?

I came very near to being unable to make a call at first last night because I turned my back to the ball.

With a runner on second and one out in the bottom of the seventh, a ball is grounded sharply to the third baseman.

This is, generally, a routine play…until you inject a bunch of 14-year-olds, that is.

I honestly believed I’d learned my lessons about anticipating what the younger players will do with the baseball in what seems like routine situations. Hence, I figured the player MIGHT check the runner back to second and then go to first for the out.

In essence, that is what the kid did, but not before faking me out of my slider shorts first.

When the fielder checked the runner at second, I had stepped back with my right foot and kept my chest toward the ball. My plan was to make sure he made a throw before turning back toward first.

I’m not sure how far off second the runner had gotten, but the check at second turned into a throw.

Or, that’s what I thought.

So, I pivot around to follow the ball, thinking I was going to have a close play at second, but realize fairly quickly he didn’t release the ball.

Oh, dang.

Rather than returning to my prior position to square toward the third baseman, I end up continuing to my right to go directly toward first for a play there, which means I had my back to the ball at some point.

And, if you’ve ever done that, you probably learned fairly quickly why you don’t want to do that.

So, now I’m looking at the first baseman whose countenance doesn’t give me the impression that a throw is imminent.

Are you flipping kidding me?

So, I do a quick glance over my right shoulder in an effort to get the ball back, but all I lean from that is that the fielder had, indeed, released the ball to first.

Crap.

By the time I get my eyes back on first, I’m just in time to see the first baseman leap for the sky, attempting to pull down the errant throw.

Basically, had the third baseman uncorked a true throw, I’d have completely missed the call.

I got bailed out by an E-5, in essence.

When I mentioned it to my partner after the game, he told me he’d have had a good look at the play, should I have missed it, but wasn’t otherwise aware that I was completely crossed-up on the play.

And, to be honest, I’m not sure what I would or could have done differently other than to not have been faked out by the throw to second. It all happened in however long it takes a young teenage athlete to run 90 feet, but I can still break it down as if it all developed so slowly.

In a game where I felt I really was on-point for what few plays I had to take, it was a very irritating incident to have occur in the waning moments of the ballgame.

These Kids Will Lie to You

It was a gorgeous day in Seattle.

I don’t mean that it was a gorgeous day FOR Seattle. It was just a nice day for anywhere. Okay, maybe natives of Phoenix might have found it a bit chilly, but the sun was out and the temperature was in the high 60’s. It was certainly the sunniest and warmest day I’ve been scheduled to work a baseball game.

It was a great day to be on the diamond.

The early innings went by without any really close plays or incidents. The red team’s pitcher struggled to get guys out the first two innings, allowing quite a few base runners and a few runs, but it wasn’t out of control. He managed to settle in pretty nicely for innings three and four.

The pitcher for the green team was fairly steady for most of his five innings and had a pretty nice mound presence, I thought.

The red team was running from the get-go. Their lead-off hitter walked to begin the game and pretty quickly made a move to second. Despite a good throw, he swiped the bag. I thought it was a good sign for them.

The green catcher cashed in on his next two nice throws to second.

In reference to the title of this entry, the second guy cut down at second looked at me as he vacated the base and said, “He didn’t even tag me.”

Here’s what gets me. He KNEW he got tagged because it was obvious he was tagged. It wasn’t even a swipe-tag situation. The throw beat him and the fielder, with both hands on the ball, made a textbook tag, albeit a little high on his body, as opposed to on the legs.

He was LYING to me, right to my face! I mean, he could have said something about the tag being high and that his feet hit the bag before the tag and maybe given me a glimmer of doubt (which it wouldn’t have really…it wasn’t that close), but he just flat went for the ‘no tag’ story.

I was so stunned that all I could offer was a bit of a terse, “Oh, he tagged you.”

Not creative, but it got the point across.

Then, the red team, collectively from the dugout, were continually calling for balks on the green pitcher and calling him a ‘twitcher.’

I actually thought this was pretty funny as they clearly couldn’t have imagined I’d just start balking the kid due to the power of suggestion. As I said prior, the green pitcher looked really comfortable on the mound and had a really clean motion from the stretch.

In other words, I saw no such twitches.

Well, I thought I saw the red pitcher twitch at one point, but I wasn’t convinced I had a balk. Upon further thought, I probably should have/could have gotten him.

Our big episode of the night came with the bases loaded and two out in the bottom of the sixth with green at the plate trying to extend their five-run lead. The red pitcher had just walked in a run. The first pitch to the new batter was a bit high and tight. The batter began his motion to swing and then didn’t make much of an effort as the ball hit something and went down to the ground and then the backstop. The batter immediately dropped his bat and started trotting to first as his teammates on the bases started to advance.

There was a bit of grumbling from the red team, including the two middle infielders, both of whom said something about it hitting his hands and the “hands are part of the bat.”

In case you don’t know, that is a giant myth. There is nothing in any rule book that says the hands are part of the bat. I don’t know how it became such a commonly-held believe among baseball people.

Anyhow, I turned to the fielders and said that it must have hit his hands or forearms as my partner had not called for a foul ball, all the while thinking that it did sound as if it might have hit the end of the bat, even if also glancing off his hands thereafter.

When I turned by attention back toward home plate, my partner was making his way toward the infield and gesturing for me to come in.

“Okay, the ball hit off the end of the bat, so what do we have here,” he asked.

At this point, I was just glad he wasn’t going to ask me what I saw because I honestly couldn’t have sworn one way or the other, based on what I ’saw,’ what the correct ruling was, but my immediate reaction was that it was not a hit-by-pitch, rather, that we had a foul ball. Heck, I wasn’t even too pleased with how little effort the batter made to not get hit by the pitch.

“Well, if the ball went off the bat, it’s just a foul ball and everyone needs to get back to where they were and it’s oh-and-one,” was my brief response.

“Okay.”

So, I turned around and ordered the runners back to their original bases.

Of course, the green coach wanted to go have a chat with my partner. It sounded like it didn’t go too well from where I was standing, but my partner was firm in telling him that he was ruling it a foul ball and that was the end of it.

What I wouldn’t have expected was for the red team to score four runs in the top of the seventh and to have the tying run at second with two out, making that run that didn’t score on that play seem a WHOLE lot bigger than it did when green was up five.

The kid who pitched the last two innings for green wasn’t nearly as in-control as his predecessor and wasn’t getting much help from his defense who booted a few balls around the field.

Ultimately, with first and second occupied and a two-two count, he got one by the batter and ended the game much to the relief of everyone.

I believe we got the call right, which is what is important anyhow, and is also what I told my partner as we came together on our way to our vehicles.

“Nobody’s too happy with me right now.”

I figured that if anyone really thought they came up on the short end of a big call, it was green and, in the light of a victory, especially one snatched from the jaws of defeat, such things evaporate into the ether.

“Eh. Green got the win and red didn’t really have anything to contest. I think everything is fine, man.”

Like I said, it was a great day to be on the diamond.

Career First Night!

If you’ve not umpired a really, really lopsided game, you might not be aware of how tempting it is to lose your edge while one team struggles to get off the field as the pitcher is unable to even remotely approach a fairly-large strike zone.

Today, I learned that lesson for myself.

I had two schools from the same city: one in blue, one in green. I don’t know why I would assume such a thing, but I did go into the game believing that since I had similarly-sized schools from roughly the same socio-economic area that the game would be competitive.

A ten-run top of the first sorta killed that thought quickly.

Well, it wasn’t all that quick actually, as you might imagine.

It was 17-2 by the middle of the second. I think the final was 22-2, so the scoring tapered off, obviously.

Of course, if you just consider we played only four innings and still went about 145 minutes.

Yikes!

The blue team used five pitchers. They all seemed to be, at best, part-timers at the position. To their credit, they were all fairly good-natured throughout their struggles.

Well, the fourth guy wasn’t too excited when I called him for a balk, but I think it was more confusion over what he did than it was that he was sure he hadn’t committed the illegal act.

With a runner on first base, the pitcher held the ball in front of his thigh, hiding the ball from the runner’s sight.

To my understanding, that’s a balk.

“Time!”

“What did I do?”

I wanted to avoid too much of a conversation, so I gave a brief demonstration, “The ball needs to be either here or here, but it cannot be HERE!”

I felt a little bad because the kid clearly hasn’t pitched too often and wasn’t trying to do anything untoward, but I felt it was as clear a case as I was likely to see, so I chalked up my first career balk today.

The coach wanted clarification as well. He seemed to be as mystified as the pitcher.

Hence, here was my first real ‘confrontation’ with a coach, which turned into another teaching situation as he seemed less like he wanted to challenge my decision and more like he wasn’t really sure on the rule. Nonetheless, I was a little short (but polite) with him. I immediately wished I’d taken a softer tone, but I guess I was pretty happy with the fact that I’d identified a balk and made the call-It’s not an easy call to make, to be honest-and I wasn’t going to let anyone even begin to think there was any reason to question it.

I also somehow had never had the opportunity to call an infield fly. The situation is certainly common enough, but it just seems to never happen.

Today it did and I loved calling it.

“Infield fly! The batter is out!”

It felt GOOD!

I did have a little hiccup today as well.

With runners at first and second and less than two out, the batter struck out swinging at a pitch the catcher dropped. Despite knowing the batter-runner was out due to first base being occupied, I somehow let the fact that my partner did not vocally call the batter-runner out throw me and was left dumb-founded when the runner at first got off the base a bit and a play was made at first.

Fortunately, he was safe on the throw and tag…not that I made any call whatsoever. Instead, while everyone stared at me, I called for time and went to consult with my partner.

“The batter-runner is out due to first base being occupied and the runner from first base was safe on the play, right?”

Well, we both had it the same way, at least.

Still, I KNEW I looked like a big-time rookie right there.

Bummer.

All in all, it was a good night, if only because I experienced all these firsts.

Well, that and the weather…

Finally! The Sun Does Shine in This Town!

After a week consisting entirely of three rainouts and a forfeit, baseball was bound to be played today. The sun was out for most of the day and the local weatherfolk, who nearly always forecast rain just to be on the safe side, didn’t seem to think rain was even a possibility.  So, I figured that once the lunch hour came and went with no text messages alerting me to game-status updates, it was game on.

Interestingly, I was partnered with someone whose name I recognized from some of the training sessions as a fellow rookie. Until someone tells me otherwise, I’m just going to make a giant leap of assumption and figure that the early feedback on me is that I’m at least competent enough to where I don’t need to always be scheduled with a strong veteran partner who would then keep me from making a mockery of the umpiring avocation.

It’s the small victories I need to celebrate.

Turns out that my partner, while a rookie with the baseball association, is a long-time softball umpire who had dabbled in baseball last summer with a recreational league.

There goes my theory.

The weather at the site was mostly sunny and in the mid 50’s with not a threatening-looking cloud to be found. That doesn’t necessarily mean much in Seattle, but I thought it was a much better sign than the constant rain of the week prior.

As my partner had not yet worked a school game this year at the plate in a baseball game, I was going to be on the bases.

The top of the first saw the visiting team score a run in fairly standard order. It was an otherwise unremarkable inning.

The bottom of the inning was a little chaotic, however, as the home team answered with five runs of their own. The visitors’ pitcher struggled intermittently with location. When he was getting the ball over the plate, however, his problems became the fact that the hitters were pounding the ball all over the field.

One point to be made here, however, was that I noticed my partner was not giving the high strike, especially on breaking pitches that dropped into (what I perceived to be) the strike zone. I made a mental note to inquire about that after the game. With no knowledge of softball on a technical level, I don’t believe you see the same sort of breaking ball you do in baseball. I’m basing that on arm angles, so I mostly just believe this to be the case and am going with it.

Anyhow, the pitcher in question definitely threw a lot of those sorts of pitches, which wasn’t helping the inning to get finished.

Surprisingly, the second inning saw no runs scored on the same pitcher, so it wasn’t going to be one of those games.

My first big call came with a runner on second, who happened to be the same visiting pitcher who’d gotten roughed up in the first. He had just doubled in a few runs to help close the gap on the scoreboard.  Before the next pitch was thrown, the pitcher wheeled around to pick him off. It wasn’t all that close for a pick-off play, though, they are usually fairly close. The kid had clearly just gotten a step too far off the bag. The throw arrived to the bag well in advance of the diving runner.

It was the third out of the inning, as well.

I went in to chat with my partner after the play. He asked me if I’d been taught to be ‘there with a runner on second.’ It turns out that I was working from the ‘B’ position when the pick-off play occurred. I had been on the wrong side of the mound!

Now, it’s not hard to remember where you’re meant to be in certain situations, but I have found myself in the wrong spot a few times so far. Usually, my partner has given me a little head tilt to prod me over into my proper position. As far as I know, this was the first time I went to the wrong spot and stayed there as play resumed.

I’m thinking there’s a certain amount of game presence I’m lacking in these situations. I need to remember to reset the game situation every time something happens on the field. I’m usually in the wrong spot after a stolen base or something of the sort. I think I’m not registering that things have changed at that point.  This will change (hopefully soon)!

Another boob-up came when, with runners at the corners, the pitcher threw over to first, at which time the runner took off for second. I moved around and got set for a play at second.

That play never came.

I had stopped watching the ball, which was thrown home and then back to third as the other runner had made a move for home and then retreated.

And I missed all of it.

I had forgotten how important it was to keep in mind that you have to have a runner AND the ball to have a play. So, while all the action was going on behind me, I had a first-rate view of a runner sliding into second with absolutely nothing important happening there.

They say you learn best from mistakes. I think this one will live with me for a while.

Fortunately, the play at third was not at all close. At least, that’s what my partner told me later.

I saw nothing.

I also found that I was failing to get into position to make calls from ‘B’ and ‘C’ positions at first base. Where earlier I was not moving toward first in those situations and making the call from where I stood when the pitch was delivered, I am now moving too much and not stopping in time to get ’set.’ What’s irritating about it is that I feel it when I do it, yet made no adjustment.

My partner noted the same thing. He said I appeared ‘fidgety.’

That can’t be a good thing.

The final close play for me was a bang-bang play at first, when the visiting pitcher (again) attempted to bunt his way on to first. It was about as close a call as you can imagine, but I had him out, which was the third out of the inning.

As the visitors warmed-up in the field at the bottom of the inning, the pitcher, who’d since been moved to second base moved toward where I was standing in shallow right field.

“Mr. umpire? How close was that play at first?”

The way the kid spoke didn’t give me any thought that he was really questioning the call, so I offered only that “it couldn’t have been any closer with the same result.”

I had this feeling that it just wasn’t that kid’s day. He seemed to be on the bad end of all the close calls on the day. Sometimes you have those days.

I guess I kinda had one of those days as well. It had been a full 12 days between games, so maybe some of it was rust. I am only six games into my career as an umpire, so there’s also obviously some inexperience factoring as well.

If I’m on the bases tomorrow, I’ll hope to feel some improvement on these items…assuming it doesn’t rain.

Breaking in a New Ballfield

A fairly sunny afternoon on the south side of Seattle had me excited for my afternoon game up in Ballard.

Which means only that I’d forgotten how quickly the weather changes between different parts of the city.

The weather was SO nice, in fact, that I called My Barista as I drove north on the Alaskan viaduct along the waterside to tell her she should check out the sun over the sound if she had a chance.

Hence, I was a little bit stunned when I got a call from my partner on my mobile phone asking whether I’d checked the rainout line.

I, of course, had not. As I got further north, however, I noticed a preponderance of clouds gathering. I couldn’t believe it.

My partner said he had checked the line and that our game was one of the few on the north end of town that had yet to be called. Hence, we needed to get to the field.

Upon arrival, it was clear it had yet to rain in that area. The sun was trying to stay visible among all the clouds, but it was a battle. My partner decided to take the plate as his game management skills might better allow us to get as much baseball played as possible before any weather trumped our efforts.

Game management might be the biggest hidden skill of an umpire. There are dozens of little things umpires do to keep the game moving along at a steady pace. It’s likely that all of them are a complete secret to a neophyte until a more-veteran umpire clues them into such things.

The largest one brought to my attention thus far has been keeping balls in play. In my first games behind the plate, I had been a little slow to get new balls to the catcher when a ball was hit foul beyond the fences. Balls hit back to the fences were retrieved by the catcher and then thrown back to the pitcher.
The tip I was given was to allow the catcher to go fetch such balls while I throw a new ball out to the pitcher.

This move is likely obvious to most, but it seemed revelatory to me.

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

So, back to the game at hand.

At our plate meeting, the coach of the hosting team told us we’d be umpiring the first-ever game on their brand-new field. The infield was entirely artificial turf, which I liked quite a bit.  The scoreboard wasn’t yet working. Rather, it was likely working, but they were still trying to learn how to operate it in preparations for, I expect, the first varsity game on the field.

When the home team earned their first base hit, the ball was taken out of play and tossed to the head coach who was in the box at third base. Unclear as to why it was done, he threw the ball in to the catcher, who handed it to my partner behind the plate. While all this transpired, there were questions and answers exchanged, none of which seemed to clear up any confusion as to whether the ball should be kept for preservation’s sake.

Luckily, being a smart umpire, my partner kept the ball separate so, when the other coach came up to us between inning to retrieve the ball-I’d come in to see if he had any early observations for me on which to work-he had it ready for him.

He also had ready for me a one-word tip for me.

‘Hustle.’

It wasn’t so much a commentary on what I was doing while the game was in play. What he suggested was that whenever I had somewhere to be, get there a little faster than a walk. That is, when the third out is made, jog out to right field. When a batter reaches first safely and I have to shift over to the ‘B’ position, jog there.

Point taken.

Much like how you want your uniform to be neat so the first impression delivered by your visual appearance is one of sharpness, being seen as hustling between plays during the game gives everyone a good impression that you are serious about what you’re doing and will work hard to get your calls correct.

What’s a little hard about that particular comment for me, however, is that ‘hustle’ should be the one thing I didn’t have to specifically learn in order to be an umpire. Any cognitive person could guess that ‘hustle’ is an important factor in doing anything on athletic field of play, even as an official.

I was a little disappointed, but I assure you that I jogged a fairly healthy pace to each spot the rest of the game.

Then the Rains Came…

I live in Seattle, so I know that the rains are a reality, even though I am still within one year of moving here.

Having begun the baseball season with the successful completion of five games in six days, I just figured that maybe the rainy spring season was a bit over-hyped. The fact is that, despite forecasts warning of weather contrary to baseball for much of those first six days, I had yet to feel even a drop.

I awoke Thursday morning to the sound of heavy rainfall. When it rains here, it’s usually kinda misty and light. For those of you in other regions of the world, it might rain here frequently as per reputation, but it’s not the rain you see where you live. It’s just lighter.

On this day, however, it was what I’ve taken to calling a “proper rain.”

If I was going to have a rainout, it sure looked like this was going to be the day. Having left work mid-afternoon two days consecutive, I wasn’t going to complain. I get to feeling guilty, even though I do go in early. It’s hard to be the first out of the office by at least two hours every day. Plus, the game was scheduled down in Kent. I’ve been to Kent exactly once, so, between traffic and not knowing where I’m going, I was going to have to allow even more time.

Sure enough, the call came down about mid-morning that the game was cancelled.

Due to some other games being postponed, I also learned my partner for Friday night, who was my partner for my first-ever game, got moved to a rescheduled varsity game and that I had a new partner.

Of course, I expect to work with dozens and dozens of people in the association, so it’s not as if I’m afraid to deal with someone new, but I did feel a little sad to have lost the opportunity to work with the same guy for what would have been a third time. I like getting the feedback on my improvements, as well as new suggestions for areas on which to work.

Then, it just kept raining.

So, after a nice streak to begin the season, it’s a two-day slump. It might have ended up being for the best as the head coach of one of the teams scheduled for the Friday game is actually an umpire himself! The last thing I needed to kick off the weekend was some freak play to occur for which I was unsure of the ruling, only to be face-to-face with a coach who actually knows the rule book.

EGAD!

So, now it’s down to a Sunday youth game before I jet off to Las Vegas for a wedding (MY wedding) and a couple days of whatever people do in Vegas when the get married down there.

While I’m gone, go play ball, would ya?

Nightcap

I guess it’s not quite a nightcap, as the second game was starting at 3:00 p.m. and, thanks to cooperative weather and Daylight Savings Time, was going to be played in regular ol’ daylight.

However, the second game of the double-header saw me behind the plate again to further work on my plate-umpire mechanics.

The game was not an official league game, rather it was going to be a ‘practice game.’ As such, the coaches were looking for help with the pitchers doing anything that would be an ‘illegal pitch’ and, were runners on base, a ‘balk.’ They were also not really working with line-ups and substitutions. They just wanted the kids to get playing time and at-bats.

All of this takes a little pressure off me as I, too, was sorta practicing. Plus, I wasn’t really all that comfortable with the line-up management. The administrative part of the game isn’t really a strength yet for me.

Unfortunately, there was a pretty large disparity between the two teams. The red team’s pitchers were pretty comfortable with the strike zone and largely worked in and around it. The blue team, however, struggled all day with getting the ball even near enough where I was able to give them a generous ’strike’ call. I didn’t want to call the game unevenly, by any means, but when a seventh grader throws eight consecutive pitches not within a foot of the strike zone, you really, really are hoping pitch number nine is at least borderline. It’s not something I’d hope to consider even in a freshman-level school game, but this felt more like little league. Some of these kids were clearly not really baseball players and seemed uncomfortable on the field.

I don’t wish to discourage in any way. I want them to LOVE playing baseball, even if they aren’t successful at it. You can’t tell this to a young person, but we adults are aware that a batter who fails two out of every three times at bat is all-star caliber in the big leagues.

Unfortunately, there was one young man who needed a quick attitude modification.

The catcher for the blue team had no problem registering his displeasure with my version of the strike zone, which I assure you was already somewhat generous. He was small and young, but had seen enough on television to learn the trick where the catcher holds the ball in the spot where he caught it (or moves it slightly to look like it had to have crossed the plate) and then, when he doesn’t get the call, shakes his head visibly while throwing the ball back to the pitcher.

Initially, I didn’t think anything of it, dismissing it as just the follies of a young ballplayer.

My partner, however, didn’t care for it whatsoever.

When the blue team finally escaped the first inning, he made a beeline for the catcher and had a little discussion with him.

Afterwards, he came to me and told me the catcher was ’showing you up,” and, therefore, needed to be told to immediately cease and desist. I realized immediately that I needed to have taken more charge of the situation. I think it’s important for an official of any sport to be able to maintain the in-charge attitude without coming off as the alpha dog when it’s not necessary.

Of course, when you miss an opportunity to establish good behavior, as I did by ignoring the problem, you are only setting yourself up for problems.

Hence, when the catcher came out in the second inning and gave another of the head shakes when he got another ‘ball’ call, I went out front of the plate, cleaned it off, looked up at the catcher and said, ‘ I don’t want to see any more signs of protest or anything else. Just catch the ball and throw it back to your pitcher. Quit shaking your head when I call a ball.’

He began to protest with, “but I didn’t…,” but I wasn’t really hearing anything else.

Later in the inning, as the pitcher continued to struggle, the catcher joined a conference at the mound with the head coach (who I suspect was his Dad). I could tell that he was telling coach what I said to him.

I had a new catcher in inning three, which was told me that the coach, despite having an inferior team, at least knew how to deal with the situation and, in my mind, did the wise thing.

Meanwhile, I worked on everything I could. I got kudos for waiting to call ‘foul’ on a ball that bounded out toward first base until the fielder touched the ball and for my overall timing on balls (stay down on your balls, remember) and strikes.

Generally, the game was without any true excitement. I had one play at the plate that was actually quite close, but, somehow, the kid who should have been out on the pick-off, ended up in a run-down and managed to score.

He, of course, was a member of the red team. The blue team just couldn’t really get a break. They made a good play to set themselves up for success, but eventually failed in the execution, allowing another run, rather than collecting the out.

After the game, my partner had a few tips for me. One main point was that I could be moving the game along a little more quickly by immediately putting a new ball back in play on every ball fouled off. The catcher would then bring me the ball he fetched. Instead, I had the catcher just fetching the ball and returning it to the pitcher.

Otherwise, my overall review was fairly positive. Just as I’d heard after my first game on the bases, my partner was impressed with my performance for my first time at the plate. He was especially pleased with the adjustments I’d made from the first inning of the first game throughout the day.

This is the important part for me. I find that my fellow officials are sometimes concerned their advice will be received poorly, which tells me that maybe their advice HAD been received poorly in the past. It seems crazy for anyone working as an umpire, particularly a new umpire, would be completely closed to anything that could help improve their game.

Besides, in all honesty, if you hear something and disagree with it, you can certainly explain your side of things. Discussion is healthy in all things.

Failing that, I guess you could just listen and then ignore it. I don’t know how anyone gains from that, however.

Three games in, I feel good about where I stand as a veteran of but three games, while I yearn to get back out on the field. Umpiring is a challenging gig, but very rewarding and fun.

Plus, I get to leave work as early as 2:15 to make games sometimes and go stand at a baseball game in the sunshine. Granted, I do have to get to work before 7 a.m. on those days. It’s completely worth it, though.

Debut Behind the Dish

Game two was a Catholic Youth Organization game with a guy I knew from football. He actually was among the two or three most-helpful people with whom I worked during my first football season in that he continually gave me helpful tips and feedback when we worked together.

For my first game behind the plate, I cannot think of a better situation.

Well, I suppose I can also praise the fact that the predicted rains never came. I can also wish that I had, by then, received the rest of my equipment I had ordered so I had proper plate pants to go over the gear.

As it were, I had to borrow a ball bag and go with the heather-ish gray-ish pants I bought at the Salvation army for a mere $3.25.

Knowing the game was among the lowest of the age levels our group officiates did little to calm my nerves, to be honest. We hadn’t really even discussed the strike zone in our training, much less actually work on seeing the strike zone. We worked on positioning in the ’slot’ between the catcher and batter, as well as on ‘tracking’ the baseball all the way into the catcher’s mitt, but the strike zone seemed to be this mystical thing which should never be discussed, much like how you don’t get to, as a coach, discuss balls and strikes with the umpire.

So, I was armed with mechanics and rules, but no practical application experience.

Sound fun?

Well, after a while, it was.

My first plate meeting was a bit of a wash. The coaches started talking and, in trying to prod me along, my partner pretty much went through the meeting. He apologized afterwards, but I wasn’t nearly upset. Although there wasn’t much to it, I was ill-prepared to confidently conduct the meeting. I was already worrying about struggling in my plate debut.

It’s an odd feeling being behind the plate when that first pitch sails into the catcher’s glove. There is this brief moment in time where it is no longer a pitch, yet also neither a ball nor a strike. The only thing maintaining this limbo is your judgement, signal and call. Actually, the weird part is that, while everybody in the vicinity may have an opinion as to what the result of the pitch is, you are the only person who’s opinion holds any sway in the matter and that decision is final!

It turns out that the nerves were working in my favor. Although I struggled a bit with tracking while working in the cages with a pitching machine, being concerned with getting as good a look as possible at each pitch so I didn’t look like a complete rookie – even though that’s exactly what I am – made me concentrate on following that ball all the way to it’s destination.

It also turns out that the rules and good mechanics to get the right look at the pitches is about all you need to call balls and strikes. For the most part, it’s pretty obvious, especially with young, inexperienced pitchers.

Luckily, it’s not as obvious to the young, inexperienced batters or we could stand out there all day.

The first game was pretty much a blur, otherwise. I felt awkward in communicating my rotations to my partner. I was a little jumpy behind the plate on all the pitches that looked like they were coming right at my head (and there were plenty of those). I didn’t really have a consistent strike mechanic and ended up executing probably half a dozen variations on two completely different signals.

The most-awful moment came when a pitch came a bit high and outside. I said, “ball” fairly audibly, but then, for some inexplicable reason, stood up and started raising my hand upwards. I quickly pulled it back down, but the coaches of the team in the field saw a ’strike’ called. When I called a second (and not the assumed third) strike on the next pitch, those same coaches were up in arms. It was a short-lived controversy that didn’t go very far, but I sure as hell knew that I had boobed that one up.

The second biggest error was when a kid got hit by a pitch and I didn’t call for ‘time.’ My partner had to do it for me. It was then when I realized that I had focused entirely too much on one detail of my game that day, that I missed a lot of other things.

All in all, my partner said he was pretty impressed with my progress from the first few innings through the end of the game. I need to take that with me and know I’m on the right path. He also gave me a lot of good tips both on the field and after the game that I know will help me have a much more solid performance next time I put on the chest protector and mask.

Which was only 30 minutes after the completion of the first time.

Let’s play two!