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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.