Little League

This spring was the first spring where our eldest played little league. In the weeks since it all started, I've gained a new appreciation for all the volunteers who put it together. I've also gained new respect for umpires, after I umped today.

So far, aside from a debate about where the batter's box was between coaches (didn't want the kid playing catcher to get whacked) and a mother upset that she didn't get the revised practice schedule (not sure if she was really angry or that's just the way she talks), it's been fairly peaceful. The boys are only 7, so the rules are pretty lax - 4 strikes per at bat, 6 runs max per inning, umpires reminding the boys to run when they hit, coaches calling safes and outs on the basepaths, etc. Fortunately a coach pitches or else we'd still be in the first inning (no walks allowed), hours later.

The team has a team coach and assistants. As we're a combination blue collar/white collar suburb of New York, 1 or 2 assistants are usually working so a few of the dads usually end up coaching. For the first few weeks of the season I've been our team's first base coach. For the most part, it consists of congratulating a hitter and then reminding the runner to run (or to hold) when the next batter makes contact. Not too stressful. Up until the day, the hardest thing wasat the start of the season where, because the assistants were missing, I and another dad helped an assistant coach (our head coach is the town's fire chief and had to drive the fire truck that was leading the parade) lead our team from the municipal center to the ballfields in the park across the road. Nothing like keeping a dozen, excited 7 year olds in check to make your reflexes go "Dude! You're almost 40!" Today though, I found a harder job. Today I was the ump.

When registering for the season, in addition to our sons' fees, the parents are required to write a post-dated $50 check that will be returned at the end of the season if they volunteer. Umpiring is one of the volunteer duties. The home team provides the umpire, so when the coach asked me if I wanted to ump and realizing that standing for two hours on a nice cool, partly cloudy day in early spring is much better than standing in a very warm sun in June, I said sure and went to home plate. First thing I discovered is there wasn't an umpire's chest protector; no problem, I'm a big guy and have my own padding. Then I learned why you never see umpires wearing glasses (aside from the blind umpire jokes); the umpire's protection face mask didn't fit very well over my glasses (at least that was the story we were telling the commish because, in truth, we forgot the mask).

PLAY BALL .... what, the second baseman isn't ready yet? .... ok, everybody ready? PLAY .... Tommy! Tie your shoe.... OK ... Everybody ready? PLAY BALL? Yes, play ball. I only lost track of the strikes a few times, until I learned to call the strike number even with a foul. I'm pretty sure I gave a few batters 5 strikes. There were also a few fouls I didn't call. In my defense, they were hits, but in our schools parks where the fields are not Yankee Stadium quality, there were some bad bounces, not to mention the dropped bats in fair territory that would cause the dribblers that should've gone foul stay fair. Oh, speaking of bats, some of these kids let their bats fly when they hit. Fortunately they usually missed me and the catcher. Since it's little league, the bat boy is the ump. Also, the fetcher of wild pitches is the ump. Catcher of fouls going back? The ump. Reminding the batter to run when he makes contact? The ump (it got to where I told each batter that if they made contact, run -- someone will tell you if it's a foul and call you back). It's a busy job. Then you have to be careful not to favor your own child's team (not a problem, after a while it does become instinctive).

6 innings and two hours later, the game was over. My son's team won, don't ask me the score (the coaches track the scores mostly so they know when 6 runs in an inning have been scored). My umpiring adventure was over. What I didn't realize was how tiring that was. After our 10 minute drive home I got of the car and felt tired. Nothing like 2 hours of calling strikes, catching or dodging fouls and throwing countless balls back to the pitcher I suppose (I still went to the gym a little later). Anyway, the last few weeks of coaching and, now, umpiring has given me a new respect for all the volunteers who help out our children and even a little more respect for the home plate umpires who call balls and strikes and get whacked by foul tips.