The Baseball Observer - May 2015
14
You really think you have a better vantage point from the third-base line?
I laugh when TV announcers show the replay of the last pitch and the ball doesn’t go through the imaginary strike zone the network has put up. Someone like Tim McCarver says, “The ump missed that one. It was a strike.”
No, Tim, it’s not a strike unless the umpire says it is. I don’t care what your screen says.
Here’s an activity I like to do at minor-league games. I cheer
for the umpires. This makes me, in the words of George
Orwell, a lunatic (a.k.a. a minority of one).
Sure, I want my team to win, but the umpire is not going
to have much to do with that, so why boo him when you
can cheer him? While the drunks who can’t see what
time their watch says yell obscenities at the umps plate
calling, I like to yell, “That was a good call, ump! You’re
doing fine!” I’m still rooting for my team, but I’m helping
the umpire realize the crowd isn’t entirely a bunch of
ignorant, close-minded fans who think every close call should go their way like an obese eight-year old who really believes he should “Collect All Five!” happy-meal toys.
Give the ump a break. Despite the mask and stoic posture, he is human. He’s human in that he has feelings and he probably wouldn’t mind exacting revenge on an angry, immature crowd on the next close call. As a professional, they’d never admit to such an act, but as the incognito, conniving revenge artist I can be, I know I’d sway my calls to the team and its fans that annoyed me the least.
Bart Giamatti told us baseball was designed to break your heart, so let it. Enjoy it for tomorrow it might not.