The Life and Times of a Little League Umpire
Portions of this article appeared on vype.com and vype.com/dfw.
Note: This was a piece from mid-summer. I thought everyone might enjoy it after the recent Red Sox-Angels late game umpire controversy.
After only four games of umpiring little kids, I’ve had my fair share of bonehead moments. Perhaps the most embarrassing of these came in my first game, which featured two teams of eight-year-olds and their coaches who appear to take things a bit too seriously.
There was a man (actually a kid) on first, and no outs, and a hit deep into center field (highly unusual), followed by an outfielder making the throw of his young life that not only flew near his second baseman, but in fact landed in his teammate’s glove.
To top it off, the confused second baseman listened to parents scream different directions for him to go, and he actually ran to second and tagged the base right when the runner who was on first slid into second. It took me a moment to realize that I actually had to call this play, even though I really just wanted to give both the second baseman and center fielder the gold glove award.
I had absolutely no clue what the call was, mostly because it was a bang-bang play that really could’ve gone either way, so I went with an out. Immediately half the crowd applauded loudly while the other half went crazy.
I even heard one fan yell, “HEY BLUE WHY DON’T YOU GET SOME CONTACTS AND THEN MAKE THAT CALL!” To which I wanted to respond that he should get some sedatives. The kids playing are far more concerned with picking grass in the outfield and talking about video games than actually playing sports.
Using my better judgment (I’d rather not lose my job), I didn’t respond, but I was rattled nonetheless. I looked over at the other coach whose call I might’ve blown, and I thought I saw him ask me if I had a good view of that play (he was far away from where I was standing).
I shook my head yes, and became puzzled when he started cracking up. An inning later, I put the pieces together. He had asked me if I had blown the call.
Inside the Mind of a Teen Sports on NFL Kickoff Sunday
Portions of this article first appeared on vype.com and vype.com/dfw
Note: Times are approximate.
10:30 A.M: Wake up “early” to watch all the pre-game shows.
11:00 A.M: I garner enough energy to stop staring at the TV and start making eggs.
11:04 A.M: Matt Cassel has been ruled out of Week One. I nearly set my pan of eggs on fire. What would I do? Cassel is my starting fantasy quarterback.
11:32 A.M: Last minute fantasy preparations begin. I examine my backup quarterback (Jason Campbell) and break into a nervous sweat. Mark Sanchez is picked up as my emergency starter, and things are not looking good for team Alex.
11:45 A.M: What’s that? Mike Bell is starting for an injured Pierre Thomas? I, alongside thousands of others, insert him into my lineup with high hopes.
12:15 P.M: Football is finally back. My emotions can’t even be described logically; if they were a font in Microsoft Word they’d resemble something like “wing dings.”
12:25 P.M: Mark Sanchez is scaring me. My whole fantasy team is scaring me. Why did we have to draft before training camp? I’m now stuck with Brandon Marshall and Michael Crabtree, so primadonna number one is in my lineup because I have no other choice.
1:00 P.M: What has this world come to? Mark Sanchez is actually looking pretty solid in his first career game against a good defense, and the Cowboys are struggling against a rebuilding Bucs team.
1:36 P.M: Homework is pulled out of my backup and organized into different piles. I’ve shown intent. That’s good enough for now.
2:06 P.M: A text message from a Lions fan informs me that Calvin Johnson (my number one fantasy receiver) scored on a 62-yard touchdown. Things are looking up.
2:07 P.M: I receive a follow-up message from the same fan: “jk, it got called back.” Awesooome.
2:56 P.M: Physics homework is completed after the Cowboys and Jets break their games open. Darn you Thomas Jones, for going crazy against me. You too, Cedric Benson (never thought I would say that).
3:00 P.M: The Redskins are on, and I have very little confidence in them beating the Giants.
3:17 P.M: Mr. Randle El, if you can’t find someone to pass it to, throw it out of bounds. Or, continue to do your Irish folk dance for a loss of 11 yards. Either way, the Skins lose.
4:12 P.M: Hunter Smith, the Redskins punter, just scored the first touchdown of Washington’s season. Probably not a good sign.
5:46 P.M: Skins lose, and although I’m disappointed, it’s hardly surprising. Still, only a six-point loss in New York is slightly encouraging. If only Jason Campbell could get it together, if only…
6:12 P.M: Dinner is eaten, and psychology reading has been accomplished. To summarize chapter two, the brain is full of neuro-thingies that possess more letters than Oshiomogho Atogwe.
8:00 P.M: It’s time to figure out how I can make up an 11-point deficit in fantasy football. I’ve got Mason Crosby and Darren McFadden, he’s got Phillip Rivers and Vincent Jackson. Gulp.
10:22 P.M: Kanye West did what?
10:26 P.M: Until the wee hours of the morning: It’s American Studies studying time. The first test of the year is tomorrow, and our teacher informed us that a “good” grade is a 60 or above. I miss nap time and recess.
