THOMPSON: You need a sense of humour as a baseball umpire

I’ve written about baseball a few times in this column over the years. I played baseball in my youth…and these days I umpire baseball…both in the U.S. and Canada. It has always been a part of my life.

As you read this, the top high school teams in Florida – large and small, urban and rural – are competing in playoffs…seeking state championships in their respective classes.

I’ve seen some of the best young baseball players anywhere over the past two-and-a-half months…up close…umpiring more than 60 games.

Florida and California are rich in young baseball talent…with more than one-third of those playing in Major League Baseball having played high school baseball in the two states. Florida has had at least one – and often more – high school players in the First Round MLB Draft for 30 straight years.

Pitchers who throw 90+ M.P.H. fast balls are fairly common in Florida. Often these same pitchers throw wicked curve balls, sliders, sinkers, cutters or knuckleballs, as well. 

It’s an umpire inside-joke re-told every year; “A coach proclaims proudly: ‘We have a kid who can throw a 92 M.P.H. fastball!’…the umpire – without missing a beat – asks, ‘Do you have a catcher who can catch a 92 M.P.H. fastball?”

The truth is: umpires get beat up with un-caught pitches all the time. Believe me, even an 80 M.P.H. baseball un-caught can leave a bruise on a forearm or inner-thigh worthy of an assault-and-battery charge.

But in Florida…there are great high school pitchers…and, thank god, great catchers, as well. Even so, another umpire saying applies; “A baseball has a way of finding you.”

Last month, I was hit by a 90+ M.P.H. ball thrown to a left-handed batter…the batter barely touched the ball…just enough to change ever-so-slightly the path of the ball. It struck my inner thigh…sounding much like Rocky Balboa hitting a side of beef.

Two innings later, the same pitcher threw another 90+ M.P.H. fastball…the catcher had signalled for and was expecting a curve ball. The pitcher missed the sign. The catcher never touched the ball…it hit with a thud…the exact same place on my inner thigh as the earlier foul ball. This one hurt more.

The bruise covered the entire width of my leg…and was there ten days. Again, another umpire truth; “It only hurts when I breathe.”

After decades of umpiring baseball games, I can tell you a sense of humour is indispensable. I often use humour to de-escalate what might otherwise be a situation that might get out of hand.

In one game, I called three straight pitches strikes on a pinch hitter. The kid’s grandfather was in the stands behind home plate. 

The old man groaned at each pitch, clearly shouting his disapproval of my calls…“No way, Blue!” and “That was a ball!” and “Awful!” Each pitch had been down the middle…and the kid never moved the bat off his shoulder. 

As his grandson walked back to the dugout after striking out, the old man couldn’t resist one last dig.

“You’re the worst umpire I’ve ever seen!”

It doesn’t take much to turn a crowd against an umpire, so I removed my mask, turned to the old man among the fans and said with a smile, “Naw, what are the chances that the worst umpire AND the worst spectator showed up at the same game?”

Everyone laughed…including grandpa.

I don’t mind being the butt of jokes either. Arriving at a recent game, I approached the head coach and his assistant coaches…all of whom I knew well. 

The coach says, “Hey, Don, did you bring your cell phone?” 

“No, coach, I didn’t,” I answered.

“Well, go get it…I don’t want you missing any calls!”

I laughed as hard as the coaches.

During another game, Kyle, a head coach I’ve known for years complained mildly after I called a strike on a batter ending the inning…stranding a runner on third base.

“Wow, Don…that one seemed a bit high.”

I walked with him a few steps toward his dugout, arm around his shoulder, and simply said, “Kyle, remember I finished number one in my class at the Stevie Wonder School of Umpiring!” I wheeled and walked back to home plate…we both smiled.

Sometimes though, you make a bad call…we’re human. I advise new umpires to admit it when the coach comes out chewing your ear. It’s important to listen…let the coach vent his anger and frustration for a bit…then, say, “You’re right, coach…I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

Most coaches are respectful and play off the umpire’s demeanour. They’re competitive and want their team to win…that’s their job. Handle the situation with a little humility…and, really, what more can they say? They made their point.

Every umpire has his or her style…some are detached…talk little with coaches, players or fans. That’s fine…but it’s not me…and after all these years I’ve earned the respect of all three groups.

My reputation for a sense of humour sometimes precedes me. This year, a head coach I didn’t know very well was about to leave the plate meeting – a customary official gathering before every game – and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and gave it to me.

“I thought you might like this,” he said.

It was a cartoon from the New Yorker…famous for clever, thoughtful humour. The caption read, “How umpires watch baseball on TV at home.”

It showed an umpire crouched behind the right shoulder of his wife sitting in an easy chair staring at the tv screen. 

A few seconds later, I said with a straight face, “Well, yeah, but what’s the joke?”

I could only see the coach’s back as he walked back to the dugout…but I bet he was smiling. I know, I was.