We umpire wannabees have been told repeatedly that we are going to mess up early in the course, and that it is OKAY to mess up, as long as we learn from the mistake. I know that – I tell my physics students the same thing.
We are also told to study hard, and to pay attention in line, going through situations in our heads. That way, we’ll be more likely to know what to do when it’s our turn to perform. I know that, and I do that.
So I was all set for my first live-ball simulation drill today. I was assigned as the plate umpire, partnered with CJ the crazy Braves fan. Before we took our turn, I patted his arm with my mask, and told him I want to pretend we’re at Turner Field. He loved the thought. I told him Jeff Francoeur was coming up to bat. He got even more enthusiastic. I told him that John Smoltz was on the mound. “Wait,” he said. “How can Smoltz be on the mound with Francoeur at bat? Did someone get traded?”
And that was only the beginning of a colossal Nachoman brain fart that made the entire baseball complex smell of methane.
Pretty much every drill had started with a soft grounder down the third base line. The mechanics for such a play are very, very simple – call the pitch,[1] move down the line to render a fair-foul decision, and (if fair) proceed back to the first base line. I knew, and could state quickly and confidently, exactly what to do.
But.
When the pitch came in, I messed up the mechanics of calling the pitch a ball – I stood up, when I’m supposed to stay in my stance. Next, I got on the line properly, but I gave the incorrect mechanic for a foul ball (I pointed and shouted a tongue-tied “foul ball” instead of giving the dead ball signal and saying “foul.”) And finally, I heard chief instructor Paul Nauert – who unbeknownst to me had been standing directly beside the plate – yell “Hold it right there. What did you forget to do?” I didn’t take my mask off. I mean, how stupid is that? I’ve only been practicing mask removal about 50 times a day. Mr. Nauert politely and loudly, for the benefit of the class, pointed out all of the idiocies of my first ever live ball.[2] He corrected my plate stance as I returned for the next pitch. And he finished with a wry and pleasant “Okay, now that all that negative stuff is out, let’s see what you’ve got.”
The good news is, I did well on four of my six plays, including one in which I correctly answered an instructor’s trick question, and another in which I executed a pivot properly. My other mess-up was a footwork problem, not a mental gaffe. All in all, I should be pleased with my performance – I got more right than a lot of folks, I was firm and commanding with my voice, blah blu blu blah blah.
But all I can focus on now is the seething anger at myself for forgetting to take the %^&#@#$ mask off, and all the rest of that play. I hardly feel like Don Denkinger,[3] but I still am mad.
For punishment and practice tonight, after study group I bought the MLB.TV online video subscription. I watched a “condensed game” from their archives twice through.[4] The first time, for each play I went through all the actions of a plate umpire, hat and mask in hand; the second time, I executed the footwork of the base umpire. Hopefully I’ll be able to react better tomorrow. We’ll see.
We are also told to study hard, and to pay attention in line, going through situations in our heads. That way, we’ll be more likely to know what to do when it’s our turn to perform. I know that, and I do that.
So I was all set for my first live-ball simulation drill today. I was assigned as the plate umpire, partnered with CJ the crazy Braves fan. Before we took our turn, I patted his arm with my mask, and told him I want to pretend we’re at Turner Field. He loved the thought. I told him Jeff Francoeur was coming up to bat. He got even more enthusiastic. I told him that John Smoltz was on the mound. “Wait,” he said. “How can Smoltz be on the mound with Francoeur at bat? Did someone get traded?”
And that was only the beginning of a colossal Nachoman brain fart that made the entire baseball complex smell of methane.
Pretty much every drill had started with a soft grounder down the third base line. The mechanics for such a play are very, very simple – call the pitch,[1] move down the line to render a fair-foul decision, and (if fair) proceed back to the first base line. I knew, and could state quickly and confidently, exactly what to do.
But.
When the pitch came in, I messed up the mechanics of calling the pitch a ball – I stood up, when I’m supposed to stay in my stance. Next, I got on the line properly, but I gave the incorrect mechanic for a foul ball (I pointed and shouted a tongue-tied “foul ball” instead of giving the dead ball signal and saying “foul.”) And finally, I heard chief instructor Paul Nauert – who unbeknownst to me had been standing directly beside the plate – yell “Hold it right there. What did you forget to do?” I didn’t take my mask off. I mean, how stupid is that? I’ve only been practicing mask removal about 50 times a day. Mr. Nauert politely and loudly, for the benefit of the class, pointed out all of the idiocies of my first ever live ball.[2] He corrected my plate stance as I returned for the next pitch. And he finished with a wry and pleasant “Okay, now that all that negative stuff is out, let’s see what you’ve got.”
The good news is, I did well on four of my six plays, including one in which I correctly answered an instructor’s trick question, and another in which I executed a pivot properly. My other mess-up was a footwork problem, not a mental gaffe. All in all, I should be pleased with my performance – I got more right than a lot of folks, I was firm and commanding with my voice, blah blu blu blah blah.
But all I can focus on now is the seething anger at myself for forgetting to take the %^&#@#$ mask off, and all the rest of that play. I hardly feel like Don Denkinger,[3] but I still am mad.
For punishment and practice tonight, after study group I bought the MLB.TV online video subscription. I watched a “condensed game” from their archives twice through.[4] The first time, for each play I went through all the actions of a plate umpire, hat and mask in hand; the second time, I executed the footwork of the base umpire. Hopefully I’ll be able to react better tomorrow. We’ll see.
[1] For drill purposes, we always practice calling the pitch before the instructor hits the ball.
[2] On top of everything he noted, upon reflection, I’m pretty sure the pitch was a strike, not a ball.
[3] For those readers not intimately familiar with baseball umpire lore, poor Don Denkinger was a fabulous umpire who will always be remembered for blowing a simple call at first base in game 6 of the 1985 World Series. His call, coupled with a bevy of Cardinals mistakes, helped the Royals win the game and, the next day, the series.
[4] A condensed game shows only the deciding pitch of each at-bat, with no interruptions for camera shots of players spitting and scratching themselves.
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