Umpire School, or What I Did Over My Winter Vacation

Remember when you were in grade school, and your first assignment every September was to write about What You Did Over Your Summer Vacation? I was always tempted to re-use the same essay each year. I mean, how would the teacher know the difference? I wasn’t convinced that most of my teachers actually read every kid’s entire essay, anyway.[1]

Well, I’m going to get that assignment again, twenty years later. This time, though, I’m going to have to describe what I did over my winter vacation. And I’m going to have a lot more interesting stuff to write about, to the extent that I don’t think I’ll be able to use my 1986 vintage “Band Camp Was Exciting and So Was The Week With Grandma” essay.

My employer is ponying up the time (and money) for me to attend the Harry Wendelstedt Umpire School in Daytona Beach this January. At first glance, one might think that I had just scored a perk on par with a congressman on a taxpayer-funded ski trip in the Swiss Alps.[2] But think again, please. The Wendelstedt school is no spa and resort. I will train rigorously with about a hundred or so other umpire wannabees, a small number of whom will be offered actual honest-to-goodness minor league jobs next summer. (An even smaller number will make the major leagues in 6-12 years.) To prepare their charges for the life of a professional umpire, Mr. Wendelstedt’s staff of instructors will work us hard. The schedule calls for a couple of hours of classroom instruction each morning, followed by a long day of on-field drills. Though (as far as I know) there won’t be any 5:00 a.m. crawling through mud, I expect umpire school to be closer to boot camp than to Club Med.

This trip comes courtesy of Woodberry Forest School’s generous sabbatical program. After our seventh year of hard labor, we are allowed to request a trimester off in order to rejuvenate ourselves according to a proposal we submit.[3] Though the headmaster found himself battling to keep a straight face when I suggested the umpire school trip, he nonetheless approved the idea. I suspect that he is curious about how a 34-year-old physics teacher with junior-varsity-level baseball skills will survive five weeks of serious umpire training. I’m rather curious myself. While the terms of the sabbatical merely require a report upon my return to school, I thought it would be more interesting to post some running commentary.

And that, folks, is What I’m Going To Do Over My Winter Vacation. Updates will be available regularly at this site.

[1] I do have experimental evidence: Once in about ninth grade, I turned in a three page paper, the second page of which contained nothing but the word “blerp” repeated ad nauseum in order to fill the page. I got an A.
[2] Researching methods of revitalizing the flagging American tourism industry, to the benefit of all citizens, especially the congressman’s mistresses.
[3] …but we are tricked into marrying Leah rather than Rachel so that we will be encouraged to work for another seven years.