HokieUmp

Then WTF are you doing here in the first place? You ask a question and then ignore the advice or act like it's just random. If you're going to do that, why not just go to your local mall, where you don't know anyone or their credentials THERE, either, and ask your questions? If you're so s--t hot in your local area, stay there, and become a local superstar. Just stop being such a troll here.

Apples and oranges, and I think you know that. (See how I used food in reply? I planned that. ) Being part of an ethnic or religious group or nationality is something one is born into. Being a douche is something that one becomes, NOT as a result of ones parentage. Therefore, 'rat' is NOT a protected class. Coaches that are rats earned that designator.

i think the willingness to learn shows that he cares...thats the only thing i was insinuating...obviously i have never worked with him God bless you for your generosity, but I think if you read back over posts connected with him, the phrase "willingness to learn" doesn't come to mind. Now, if you consider "yeah-but"ing an answer to death, or otherwise trying to convince the world of your solitary position, a 'willingness to learn,' then you might be correct. I do not share your optimism.

And there we go - the sheep/sheeple statement. That argument is trotted out by people that claim to be unique, or mavericks, or free/right thinking people. My reply: statistically, no. You're not. You just aren't. You're running against the flow, against the tide, because you're either wrong and unaware, or wrong but too damned stubborn to admit, or wrong and like being that way. I'm not sure which that it is for you, umpire_scott. Nor do I care. I have two daughters, and the youngest (as a teen) sounds like you: throwing "yeah-but"s and endless streams of words whenever she was wrong. If you are not a troll, and you are over the age of 18, please just stop. I'm sure I've said this before to you, but: when it's you against the world, bet on the world and take the points. Either that, or stop trying to convince the rest of us of your 'rightness.' Every post costs you more and more credibility. I agree with you regarding "you against the world". I just happen to know that this thread does not represent the world. It represents people that disagree with me. Which is about 10 umpires. And once again regardless of all the extraneous nonsense about whether we need home plate or not, the only viable disagreement here is whether on a SH*#ty field it's permissible to clean a base that is covered in dirt. The tournaments I work, I'm pretty sure the TD would much prefer me to kick the thing clean, and have a dirty shoe, than leave it covered in dirt. So as I'm being hired by and paid by the TD that's what I'm going to do. I work with umpires at these tournaments that are talking to the pitcher or the coaches in between innings and never make it to RF between any inning of 4 straight games. So I'd much prefer working with a guy that at least does something mildly useful between innings. The 10 people that disagree with you here simply are the 10 people that are bothering to try. I guarantee there are plenty of others out there, on this board or not. And plenty of those people that are out there are evaluators and other people that will determine whether or not you'll ever move up. Of COURSE the TD won't mind - these tournaments are money makers. If he can you to be his field biotch, there's less he'll need other people for. You're actually hired by that TD to officiate, not groundskeep, so it's not just an "I'll do what I'm paid for" thing. And isn't it indicative of your umpire career that you're working with guys that won't get out to the between-innings places? They're Smittys, and if you're surrounded by them, you're either one of them, or going to get guilt-by-association'ed by them. Do what you feel is necessary. You've been given the advice and information from people that know their stuff. Either follow it or don't. But for the love of all that is holy, stop trying to convince everyone else that you're the One Right Guy. Or that YOU'RE The Keeper of the Logical Answer. We don't groundskeep, because it makes us look like schmucks, and not like professionals. Sometimes, that kind of answer is All. There. Is.

Bumper Sticker

And there we go - the sheep/sheeple statement. That argument is trotted out by people that claim to be unique, or mavericks, or free/right thinking people. My reply: statistically, no. You're not. You just aren't. You're running against the flow, against the tide, because you're either wrong and unaware, or wrong but too damned stubborn to admit, or wrong and like being that way. I'm not sure which that it is for you, umpire_scott. Nor do I care. I have two daughters, and the youngest (as a teen) sounds like you: throwing "yeah-but"s and endless streams of words whenever she was wrong. If you are not a troll, and you are over the age of 18, please just stop. I'm sure I've said this before to you, but: when it's you against the world, bet on the world and take the points. Either that, or stop trying to convince the rest of us of your 'rightness.' Every post costs you more and more credibility.

It's to "whom" it may concern. And I've never even looked at my post count. But trust me what you just wrote was far more asinine and irrelevant than anything I've posted. Don't be too sure of that.

I wanted to post something yesterday, and planned to write something, but didn't get a chance. So I'm typing it out this morning. ---------- Yesterday was Father's Day, and I hope every Dad out there had a good one. I have two girls, and they both wished me a happy Father's Day, and they've both given me a grandchild - which, despite the early age at which they did so, it's turned out to be pretty effing cool to be a grandad, I have to say. Unfortunately, I was at the funeral home, holding a viewing for my own dad, who died last Monday. While I tend to be a mucher gooder writer than the usual IT type, this won't be some soaring, Mitch Albom-esque tale of tears, laughter, and a higher power. It's just a simple posting, to people I (mostly) don't know in real life, just because .... well, just because. We didn't share a lifetime love of the game together, but I certainly do have baseball memories of me and my dad. I played as a kid for maybe six or seven years when we moved to the Mt Airy, Maryland area. I was probably a spectacularly mediocre player, with my coke-bottle glasses at such a young age, but my folks always supported me at practices and games. Being left-handed, I survived like Jamie Moyer at the LL Major level (which was just what we called "Little League" back in the 70s, before LL went all corporate, and added all the different age levels. Or certainly before all that hit Mt Airy, anyway). My highlight was pitching a six-inning relief no-hitter (got all 18 outs, something like 11 of them Ks), after the coaches son - of course, the starter, since LL didn't invent nepotism, it just fine-tuned it - walked the bases loaded. My dad got to see that. I went on to a partially-injured, semi-frightened year of Babe Ruth after that, where we "gently" segued from the 60' field to a full-blown diamond. From the outfield, where I spent part of the year (RF, of course), I thought I could see the curve of the Earth. After that, when I knew I wasn't a 'baseball guy' any more, I quit when the season ended. I don't think Dad wanted me to, but he didn't stop me. But we certainly were fans together. He took me to my first MLB game in 1972. We saw the Orioles in the old Memorial Stadium. Don't remember who they played, and I only THINK they won, but I can still see images from that game, 41 years later. And even though Memorial was probably a dump in reality, I remember thinking, every time, how beautiful the field looked when we walked through the portal. Every year, after the schedule came out, we'd look at what we wanted to go to, and then pick four or five games to go see. Usually weekends, and almost invariably Boston and New York. And back then, you could get tickets - the Orioles were always good back then, but the fan base wasn't as good as they'll tell you were now. In Feb/March, we could get tickets easy, and we always wanted to lower section. We'd leave from home, drive through the city, and park somewhere on the streets around Memorial - never in the lots - and walk to the park. And almost always well before game time, to watch BP and field warmups. We made it to game one of the '79 ALCS, and then traded our seats for an equivalent value of Game One World Series tickets. Went to that game twice, since the first try was snowed out (well, it was rain in B-more, but where WE lived, it was something like 8 inches of snow). And still nearly froze to death out in the bleachers on try #2. And to get what we had for game one, we sat in completely different places - Dad in right field, me in left. He came and got me about halfway through, and I sat with him in RF, and had Eddie Murray put one in our section. We stopped after the last game of 1982. That was the one-game-for-it-all year with Milwaukee, and some drunk f--k made trouble, and marred the end for us. I discovered the police station inside Memorial thanks to that, but Dad didn't press charges. He just asked the cops to give us lead time before letting the guy out, so he wouldn't follow us. I guess I was meek, even at 18-ish, because the next time he asked, I just said "nah." Dad said I didn't have to worry about that happening again, but I was also hitting college age, and maybe I thought I was too cool, or some stupid s--t that teenagers think. (And let's be prefectly honest: Baltimore fans at Memorial - for both Os and Colts games - were sometimes brutal. Drunk, rednecky/hillbillies, and belligerent. It was getting less and less fun over time.) And we never DID go to a game together again. I still loved the Orioles, and liked the game, and we talked about the team, but that was it for going. But that started me with the game, and it came back years later, when I started umpiring, so I'd like to think that my dad started me on the road to that. I never became an athlete, but I was always good in school. So my parents made sure I had the chances and opportunities that came along in that regard. They had me attend summer programs by the state of Maryland, and weekend writing classes with a Johns Hopkins program; they let me be a band geek (at least the coolest section - drumline); they saved for years to put me through college. And for the rest of life, my dad was always supportive of me, and was always someone I could sound my ideas off of, and give me advice. Some might say TOO ready to do that, but I didn't mind. Even though I made my own mind up about stuff, I still felt like I had a rudder to support me. I went off to live/work in places like Hawaii, Australia, Japan (twice), Hampton Roads, and still called home fairly often. (More than my wife does with her family, even, it seems.) I still called to let my folks know I'd made it home safely from trips away somewhere. I never really came back home, which I think they would have loved - lived in Maryland for a while in the late 90s - but still tried to stay in touch a fair bit. Being a (probably spoiled) only child does that, I guess. But I always felt like I had that foundation. But with my mom's passing last year, and now my dad's, that's kind of gone. What I think they did, or what I know they did, was give me the life skills and the opportunities to have the life I've had. I paid them back, finally, with a wife and kids; even though my girls are step-daughters, they are my girls in my heart, and my parents embraced them like they'd always been there. And they got to see great-grandchildren, too, before they passed. And I'd like to think that I paid them back by being a son they could be proud of, both with (some) accomplishments, and as a person. Other people tell me they were, when they've seen me at funerals, or at nursing homes, so they were, and made it clear to other people. So I can take some solace in that. But in a few hours, I'll be at the cemetery, saying goodbye. Although my girls, and their kids, and my wife, and my in-laws, will be there, it's going to feel very lonely. It's the downside to being that spoiled only child. But at least I know that my parents did the best they could to make me a decent person, and give me a good life. And they did. So, goodbye Mom (Nancy J., d. 5 June 2012). And goodbye, Dad (Richard H., d. 10 June 2013). Happy Father's Day. And I love you.

The ruling was correct, as we've established. The proper response to the coach's email is to schedule that same umpire to every game left on that team's schedule for the rest of the season. I'll leave it to you to decide to do it for 2014 and beyond.

I always struggle with "its just simply not done" As my family has always " He sure asks why a lot" How about: "Because we're not sissy-men." Better?

The field we had in Alice Springs was like that. We generally played in broad daylight, or late enough for obvious light use (sun went down relatively early there). But when we had a game that was played in the 5-6pm area, the sun would be brutal on F3 (and the ump in A) for a while, before setting behind the ridge line outside of town. So there'd usually be a 15-20 minute break at some point, to get past that part.

I see what you did there. Luckily, since it was a tournament, there were some other guys there. The guy that was going to work the plate for the last game just took the plate 'early.'

I vaguely remember a big light, with dead relatives beckoning to me - is that unusual?? No, actually, no stars, nothing dramatic. My recall is that it hit me as I was on my way to going down, but people say I was still up before the ball got me. Dunno. Nope, nothing like that. Being gravity-driven, versus a throw or a hit, probably helped quite a bit.

All ball, baby. The kid was probably five inches shorter than me - if he'd done that, I'd have tossed him, and THEN beat his ass!

Okay, first attempt failed. Will try again with the attachment thing instead. Sorry, but the pictures are kinda huge.

Yes. Yes (taken, just haven't gotten them emailed to me yet). Yes.

Okay, so I'm working a game during the DoDEA Far East Tournament (as posted in "Announcements and Milestones"), playing the role of Warm Body Since There Aren't Many Umpires Outstanding Umpire In A Tournament Setting. It's actually the best game of the tournament - a school from Okinawa (Kubasaki HS, out of Camp Foster) versus the American School in Japan (a private school, but filled with - wait for it - Americans, and they're invited to participate against the DoDDs schools). The games, for everything but the championship game, are five innings with a 90-minute time limit. (I know - please don't yell at me about it.) Anyway, the game is moving nicely. 0-0, don't think a runner had hit 3B yet, and the two starters are throwing genuine smoke (not just fast-for-overseas-base-kids, but fast, and with some movement). It's top-4, and the tension is building, since ASIJ is supposed to be the odds-on favorite. Kubasaki is batting. (And for the record, I felt like I was having a h3ll of a game. Zone was good, players were looking to put the ball in play, I was moving well. Should have known that was A Bad Omen.) Batter skies one around the plate. Textbook: I clear the catcher (RHB, so I drop step with the right foot, basically taking me towards the 3B side), take off my mask (maybe a little early, but these guys don't seem to fling their buckets around), and make some space. I don't look for the ball, well, because. I see that F2 is having problems finding the ball - meaning, he's got NO idea where it is. So he staggers around like a drunk, and I just make sure I'm close enough to follow, but giving him room to work. After few seconds of this - the ball was hit REAL high - I seem to remember hearing "I GOT IT" or something, loud, and approaching from behind-left. .......Huh?...... <BOOOOOOOOOOOM!> [it was F1. Also plays F2, and is a good all-around player, from what I've seen. Plus, his brother has a gig with MLB Japan. Anyway, Mr. Overachiever, against ALL etiquette I've seen or heard of, leaves the mound to chase the pop-up. And isn't looking. And plows into the back of me.] He doesn't destroy me - I'm around 255 with gear, and I had probably 5 inches and 100 pounds - but it's still a big impact, since neither of us knows it's coming. So my first thought was "Oh s**t." And then the next one was "Ow." And DOWN goes Frazier! But not for why you'd think. Yes, the collision would have knocked me over, probably. But the "Ow" was for the baseball THAT HIT ME ON THE TOP OF MY %^&#$@ SKULL! And THEN, it's DOWN goes Frazier! Not to mention that Mr Overachiever - that meddling kid of the subject line - was the object that put me under the gravity-afflicted baseball, after drilling me in the back. F2 helps me up - least he could do, since his dumb a$$ couldn't find the ball - and I'm not feeling bad. But I CAN feel the blood running down my scalp. Let me say this: I wanted to continue. I guess the blood in my hair freaked everyone else out. [Fun science fact: not only do scalp wounds bleed like a b@st@rd - that's why rasslin' is so popular - but when the doctor has you on an aspirin regime, well, there you go, then.] The trainer for ASIJ said "if you don't mind, I'm going to wrap a bandage around you." If you've ever seen an Aussie Rules or rugby player get a head wound wrapped, they look like the old-fashioned "guy with a toothache," or Mr Gumby from Monty Python. I said "I would mind very much that you'd do that. How about a smaller bandage, and let's play?" Split decision - she didn't wrap me like an idiot (win!), but no one would let me go on (loss!). People also thought I'd been knocked out, since I let my arms splay out after I crashed landed. Mostly that was out of the embarrassment of it all - I remember thinking, after the ball hit, before I hit the ground - "there should be circus music playing for this." And my first words were, as the dust settled, was "Well, THAT was f***ing embarrassing." Anyway, I wanted pictures, so one of the other umps got a few. [Yes, I will post them if I get them, you vultures!] And then my wife was called, and she took me to the urgent care on-base. They cleaned it with saline, said it didn't need staples or stitches, and didn't even put Dura-bond on the wound. And h3ll, unlike the USAF of 5-10 years ago, they didn't even give me the usual bottle of Vitamin M! (Motrin) Luckily, the staff there didn't have a problem with me working the two games I had for Saturday (including the championship game), especially since I didn't go out, or have nausea, or even a headache. I mean, other than the area around the ding - THAT hurt a little. It, and I, looked worse than it was. Still, a h3ll of a way to leave a game, and the best one of the weekend. If it hadn't been for that meddling kid..... [For Ump_24 and our other Canadian friends: EASILY a major for a hit from behind (don't know if he had the stick up, so maybe cross-checking), and if I'd been near the boards, that would have been five for boarding with a 10-minute misconduct. Except in the playoffs. And probably no suspension, since Shanahan is all over the place with that, sometimes.] (Kubasaki won 1-0.) Sorry it was long, but I felt like this was a decent story, and actually enjoyed recapping this in long-ish form.

It's actually a past-tense gig, but I worked the DoDEA (or DoDDs, or whatever - the DoD schools) Far East Div-I tournament last Thur-Sat. I would like to say it was a reward for hard work and dediblahblah blah blah, but it wasn't. A) It was being held at my base (Yokota AB), and B) it's not like there's a 1,000 guys around to call baseball. (I feel like I'm at least one of the better ones out here, but this doesn't even qualify as a 'little pond' - it's like being a big fish in a Dixie Cuptm. There were six of us total, and I got into eight games - it was split pretty evenly. We did a (sort-of) three man for the championship game, and I was given the plate for that, so I was pleased about that. Too bad the game was the definition of anti-climatic: 19-1, where it was the ONLY game all year that had the mercy rules suspended, and had to go seven. The highlight, though, will show up under War Stories. Title yet to be determined. Here's a grabber: it involves an injury, and may include pictures when I get them. I know how you vultures are about THAT sort of thing! (Still gotta type it up, though.)

Look, when you take the field, you're accepting both the officials and the condition of the playing field. Once you lose, you don't get to b---h about being screwed. And of course, there were NO mistakes made by the losing team in during the game. You know, where the other team got 10 runs.

If she's the scorekeeper, she's absolutely liable for EJ, regardless of where she's sitting. She's not a spectator at that point. So yes, run her. Have the HC find another person to keep score, and move on. (And as HeadHunterLA said, the 2nd out was wrong. Still, since she's now an official of the game, and not a civilian, she just wrote her ticket home. Had she been an ordinary spectator, you couldn't toss her, but then again, you wouldn't have gone over to the fence if she'd been a regular fan.1) 1Unless she was hot.

It's all about the 'proper use of eyes,' baby!

So - and I say this as an alumni - he wasn't really very good then, eh? Boy your tough on the alumni. Hmmm. seems like Johnny Oates went to VT, but of course it looks like they were Gobblers back then. Looks like Joe Sanders and Franklin Stubbs were Hokies. Johhny Oates - great guy. Franklin Stubbs - heard of, and he got to play some in The Show. Joe Sanders - I have no idea who that is. The Joe Sanders in Wikipedia is a jazz musician, and there was no disambiguation link, so it would seem like he didn't have enough of a career for a Wikipedia page. Put it this way - for a sport we've played a long time, those names aren't exactly a Murderer's Row. When I was there (1983-88), VT baseball was better than .500, but against mediocre schedules. Best part about it was sunbathing on the hill behind the RF fence.

Isn't it because only head coaches/managers are the ones that are supposed to be arguing calls/addressing the umpires during the game? So, the guy at the plate meeting is the easiest way to know who is That Guy? (And I thought all rule codes had something about only HC/managers were to be The Arguer.)

So you had to move to Japan just to stop getting assigned with me at Plaza LL . Good Lord, we're still sending victims umpires THERE?!? Well, to be fair, the couple times I was at their majors, or whatever, it wasn't bad. It was the juniors/seniors that was awful. I still recall that kid you kept in the game when we worked together. That was before you entered your Red-Ass period.

Could not disagree more with this. Now, I grant other groups may have something in the rules, but forfeit is mentioned VERY sparingly in OBR, and for some specific reasons. "I'm mad at what their fans said to me" isn't one of them. Threatening a forfeit is not only showing that you're fairly thin-skinned (really, you would pull that card at "you suck" from a fan?), but will make you look pretty silly when you're either over-ruled or a protest is upheld, and you're doing that game over.