But What Do You *DO* All Day At Umpire School?

No, we don’t spend our time arguing with each other, nor throwing anyone out of a game. We divide our time between classroom-style lecture on the rules of baseball, and field instruction on mechanics (i.e. how to use the body to communicate a call) and positioning. The Nachoman is a six-year veteran of competitive marching band – Umpire School reminds me of nothing as much as band camp.[1] A day at band camp consisted of morning drill of marching fundamentals; extended, exhausting sessions on the field learning a complicated show; some time indoors practicing music; and evening free time. You’ll see the parallels in a moment.

At Umpire School, we start with roll call in the classroom promptly at 8:30 each morning. Many days will begin with a ten-question rules test; today we took two tests.[2] Next, we have the biblical-revival style rules lecture, as described in Sunday’s post. By 10:30, sometimes before, we are ready to head to the fields.

It takes about 25 minutes to drive to the soon-to-be-christened Harry Wendelstedt Baseball Complex in Ormand Beach. Once we arrive, we go directly to “formation” for fundamentals drill. In the outfield, we line up in a 130-person rectangle. After some stretching, we practice four basic mechanics: “strike,” “ball,” “safe,” and “out.” We run up and down the field, stopping when commanded to pretend to call a runner out. Then we do the same, calling the runner safe. We call strikes 1-3 from our plate stance, both for a left-and a right-handed batter; then we call balls 1-4 for each batter. I am sure that Burrito Girl would call us the biggest dorks in the universe, 130 men and one woman screaming “HE’S OUT!” over and over and over…[3]

Once we’re done with formation, Paul Nauert and his minor league assistants deliver the demonstration of the day. Today, we learned two principal responsibilities of the base umpire: calling the play at first base, and covering the batter-runner on a base hit to the outfield, which requires a tricksy maneuver called the “pivot.” After a catered lunch of lasagna with salad and roll (eaten off of paper plates in the bleachers), we ran drills on three fields.

Drills are difficult for a variety of reasons: primarily, the techniques we are taught are new to most of us. It requires a good deal of thought merely to talk through what we’re supposed to do in the drill. But we have to perform these new maneuvers in front of our classmates and the instructor. Everyone makes mistakes. Frustratingly, because there are 40 or so umps on each field, we probably only get four or so turns at the drill per hour. We are reminded repeatedly to make use of the time in line, to learn from others’ mistakes, to run through the drill in our minds while we wait… but that’s not the same thing as actually doing the drill under pressure.

The second major difficulty of the drill is the realism, or the lack thereof. For example, today’s pivot drill required us to imagine a ball hit to left field while a runner rounded first base and perhaps headed to second. It is vital for the umpire to keep the ball in view. We are to glance from ball to runner and back again, repeatedly if necessary, while moving at nearly a full sprint. But in the drill, we must IMAGINE the ball! I have to think about enough other things besides where a pretend ball might be heading.[4]

The day at the field ends with formation again, usually about 4:00. That still leaves a bit more than an hour of daylight. About 15-20 of us have been staying late at the fields each day to practice. Today four of us threw ground balls to each other (while a fifth of us called the play at first) for an hour. Most of us are tired and sore by the time we return to the hotel.

Many of the umpires eat at the hotel’s buffet; others grab fast food, or cook in their rooms (where we all have stove, fridge, and microwave.) Then it’s time for study and/or more practice. I’ve arranged a study group in the hotel ballroom, which has attracted between 5 and 15 students each night.[5] Tonight we spent an hour discussing the definition of a force play, the five conditions necessary to start a game, the five possible reasons to declare a fair ball, what happens when two runners occupy the same base simultaneously, and other minutia.

And now I am closing my evening by writing this blog entry. Many of my compatriots are at the refreshment station across the street, no doubt watching the BCS national championship and discussing baseball rules issues.[6] I may join them; however, I may also fall asleep.

Tomorrow we do it all again.

And I love it.


[1] With more beer cans lying around but, unfortunately, without Alyson Hannigan
[2] An overall score of 75% or better is required to pass the course.
[3] Burrito Girl, the Nachoman’s wife and sidekick, sends her regards: “Happy umpiring. Hey, what other words end in mpire? There's umpire, vampire, empire, and then I run out. Seems to me you might be into something sinister here...”
[4] We will be progressing to controlled simulations soon, followed by some actual games eventually. But for now, there are a lot of ghost runners and imaginary balls.
[5] Study group attendance peaks the night before a test. Go figure.
[6] Major league umpire Sam Holbrook didn’t quite get the concept of an arranged study group in the ballroom. Isn’t that what the hotel bar is for, he asked?