It's Opening Day!

I worked academic summer camps for many, many years. The first day consisted of greeting nervous students, making sure they paid, getting them and their luggage ensconced in a room, and herding them into an auditorium for an orientation speech. Registration day at Umpire School turned out to be virtually identical to registration day for summer camp, right down to the lecture about respecting your roommate, the cleaning staff, and the police.[1]

Years ago, Burrito Girl attended a physics teachers’ conference with me. As people checked into the hotel, she and I played the “identify the physics teacher” game. We got pretty good at spotting the (usually) slight-framed, kinda balding men, along with the nerdly and slightly socially deficient folks of both genders.[2] Here, Burrito Girl and I have played “identify the umpire.” Most of the attendees are 18-25 years old, male, solidly built, and either alone or with a similar-looking male buddy. And, the minor league instructors for the school were like that but also wearing spiffy red jackets. The identification was a breeze.

During the day I ran into four major league umpires. You may rightly ask, how did I know there were major leaguers? I can probably *name* more MLB umps than all but about .01% of the population; however, I don’t think I have ever seen a clear picture of any of their faces. It turns out that these major league umpires have an air of gravitas surrounding them, like that of a supreme court justice or the pope. Their confident poise, relatively taciturn demeanor, and their sheer physical presence made their employer clear to all of us.[3]

Yesterday evening, we 120 or so aspiring umpires were herded into a conference room in the hotel for the orientation lecture. The focus of the meeting was a roll call, during which I discovered that our class represents 33 US states, four Canadian provinces, and Japan; and during which I also found out that umpires we may all be, but able to confidently and loudly state our name, hometown, and room number to a crowd we are all not.

However, the *comedic* highlight of the evening was Harry Wendelstedt.[4] While Hunter Wenelstedt and his compatriots ran the serious meeting, Harry heckled from the front dias. Hunter explained that tomorrow we will be placed in alphabetical order for the classroom; however, anyone with hearing or eyesight problems should not be shy about quietly requesting seating at the front of the room. Harry looked a bit bemused for a moment, then he pointed out the obvious – “If you have trouble seeing the blackboard, you probably are choosing the wrong profession.”

More tonight… it’s time for class right now. Today we learn how to take our masks on and off. I’m not kidding. Can’t wait. Seriously.


[1] That said, at summer camp we never discussed what to do with illegal weapons that students might possibly have brought to school
[2] The Nachoman falls into the latter, not the former, category.
[3] And three of the four wore extra-spiffy MLB-logo jackets. That helped the identification, too.
[4] Harry Wendelstedt was a well-respected 30+ year major league veteran who has owned this school for years. He is retired, and his son Hunter now runs the school.