The Nachoman's First Live Game

Today dawned cold, but not wet, so we went back to work for a long day at the fields. We have learned[1] all of the mechanics of the two-person umpire system. So, from now on, afternoons will feature “games” of some sort on three fields, and umpires working those games.

When I say “games,” I don’t mean that we have two teams in heated baseball competition. Rather, a high school, AAU, or college team is invited to play an intersquad scrimmage for anywhere from six to twelve innings. Each trainee umpire gets to work two half-innings: one behind the plate, and one on the bases.

On some days, though, we don’t get enough teams. So, umpire school students get to play. If we’re playing, the rules are no diving, no sliding, no stealing, don’t take a walk or a called third strike. So it’s not exactly a real baseball game, but it’s a step above the “control” situations we’ve been running in which the instructor just hits the ball where he wants to.

The good part about today was that I played excellent defense at second base and in right field. I also hit a solid single my first time at bat. (I grounded out to 3rd base in my second at bat, after sending two balls foul in attempts to hit my trademark bloop-down-the-right-field-line.) Okay, great… but we’ve been warned repeatedly that if we could play baseball, we would be at the Arizona Fall League, NOT at Umpire School.

So how was my umpiring? I’m not sure. In the morning I worked a “control” game. There I covered most of my plate responsibilities effectively, except for one major mistake – I didn’t see a time play develop.[2] As the base umpire, I likewise did most things right, but earned a comment from chief instructor Paul Nauert: “Greg, loosen up out there!” I was using correct mechanics, but apparently I looked more like Commander Data[3] than Commander Riker.

This afternoon I suited up for my first-ever live game action. The body armor only had to protect me once, when I called a third strike (four inches off the plate) which bounded off of my shinguard.[4] On a popup I froze, not sure whether the ball would be caught, not remembering my responsibility to get out into the infield to observe the catch/no catch. When the pitcher turned his back to me, my partner observed him touch his fingers to his mouth, resulting in a penalty of an additional ball added to the batter’s count. When I turned to the press box to announce this ruling, I committed a malapropism that will forever live in Wendelstedt Umpire School infamy. And, since I am known even here for being loud and assertive, all three fields heard me, and had to stop play momentarily until their laughter was under control.

I did better on the bases, but once again I executed a critical stupidicism. Runner on second base, one out, ground ball to the first baseman. I reacted in excellent fashion, stepping across the infield, getting hands-on-knees set for the play at first, and immediately thereafter bouncing back to cover my remaining runner at third base. The footwork and positioning could not have been more textbook. Except, I neglected to render a decision on the play at first base. Sure, the runner was obviously out, but I didn’t call it! Remembering on the way to cover the runner on third, I hurriedly but belatedly called the guy out. How embarrassing is that?

Overall, I guess I didn’t do that horribly for my first live game. But I certainly expected better from myself. For Bob’s sake, the critiquer of my plate work said, and I quote: “You need to speed things up back there. Get balls in play faster, move more quickly, don’t take your mask off so often… this game is long enough already, don’t make it worse.” For those who know anything about the Nachoman’s rants on baseball philosophy, you will recognize that *I* just committed the gravest of sins, slowing the pace of the game! I’m a hypocrite for all the times I whine about slow pitchers! How could I be so dumb?!?

As you can tell from the increasing frequency of exclamation marks in this post, I’m a bit shell shocked from today’s umpiring. To calm down, I just ate an entire large Papa John’s double-extra-cheese pizza with garlic butter, and a little cinnamon pizza for desert. It’s okay. I will get better. Many people did far worse than I did today. After all, tomorrow is another day… one which I will greet older, wiser, and considerably fatter.

[1] Or, I should say, we *have been taught*

[2] Runners on 2nd and 3rd, one out… fly ball to mid-range center field, both runners tagging up. As the plate umpire, I properly cleared the bat and got in position to observe the tag at third. The throw went to third. At this point alarm clocks should have been going off in my head – it is my responsibility to know whether the run scores before or after the out at third base! I have to get in position to see, and then report my observation to the press box! But, I just stood there like the dork I am, watching the touch of home plate, until Rob the instructor asked about the time play I had just missed.

[3] Oh, that’s right, some of these blog readers (shame on them) might not be familiar with Star Trek references… Mr. Data was, in fact, a human-shaped robot. Mr. Riker was the Enterprise-D’s suave ladies’ man.

[4] In my critique, the instructor didn’t complain about the Eric Gregg strike call. He was more concerned that I had missed the fact that the batter left the dirt circle without attempting to run to first base. I should have called him out right then and there! Instead, unsure of whether he was running or not, I let play continue, forcing the catcher to throw to first. Boux! I know that rule…