With the cold weather now here and another snow storm about to hit the northeast, I figured it was a perfect time to go back to a warmer time, a simpler time. (cue sappy music) The longest baseball season ever moves on, and being that I never like to see anything go unfinished, here we go. And Happy New Year!
Week 9, June 6th, 1st round of Playoffs vs Rye Brook, Randall's Island
Before I started coaching, I made a vow to myself. Being an umpire, and having over 10 years experience working with NFL officials and being an Instant Replay Official myself, I told myself I would never argue with an umpire over a judgement call or balls and strikes. Well, I tried. I really did. But if you've been reading these, you know that vow was broken very early in the season. The very first game actually. I've had many an argument with the umpires in my rookie season, but it all came to a head in the playoffs.
For some reason, we played 2 games in the 1st round of the playoffs, against the same team, and advanced if we only won one of them. Made no sense to Jeff and I. But neither did this statement from our favorite umpire, Snuffalufagus: "There's nothing foul about a foul tip." That left us scratching our heads.
The kids from Rye were real small. Like Tanner from the Bad News Bears small. But we knew we couldn't take them lightly, even if in my head I thought we should have no problem. The boys played real well in Game 1. Ned was dominant on the mound, as usual. The defense made plays, even Fred threw out a couple runners from behind the plate. After Ned tired in the 4th, walking 4 straight, we brought Albert in to slam the door, which he did. A convincing win and we advanced to the 2nd round.
The June heat was stifling. Fortunately, Rod's dad brought a huge tarp that we covered the dugout with. Still hot as heck, but much more bearable in the shade. Jeff and I felt like putting our feet up and cracking open a beer. But that would have been wrong. Game 2 was more of a formality, but we played to win all the same. We gave the pill to Brad, hoping he'd duplicate his performance from the tournament. He didn't. He didn't have the same swagger, no Lebowski-esque "Don't mess with the Jesus." I even said that to him between innings, which made him laugh. We ended up losing the game, but that wasn't the part worth mentioning. That darn umpire.
Earlier in the game, I questioned a call at the plate in which Albert got called out. Trust me, he wasn't out. But that just set the stage for what happened in the last inning. Instead of blaming the umpire for the following, I'm going to blame the excessive heat. And the umpire.
Rye had runners on 1st and 3rd with 2 outs. Jeff and I put the play on that has worked almost every time we've called it. Albert took the throw from Fred and we got the guy from 3rd in a rundown. Albert chased down the runner with his speed but the umpire ruled that he missed the tag. ("He missed the tag! He missed the tag!") Since this happened right in front of me, and we had already advanced in the playoffs, I figured I should let the umpire know of my displeasure. So without moving off the bench, the following conversation took place.
Me: “Hey Blue, next time get in position before you blow the call. Every game you’ve worked for us you blow at least one call. That was your second one this game.”
Blue (Walking towards dugout.): “Listen, I said he missed him.”
Me (still sitting): “I know what you called. I didn’t say I couldn’t hear you. I said you were wrong and out of position. Get out from behind the plate. Every week with you.
Blue: If you don’t like the way I work a game, call my supervisor and ask him not to put me on your games anymore.
Me: OK. I will. I’ll do that. Thanks.
Now at this point, the argument should have ended. Being an umpire myself, I know that you never want to extend an argument by provoking the coach. And when he’s done, the argument is done. Unless, you really want to toss the coach.
Blue: I know you guys are a little frustrated. And when you are losing, you have more to complain about.
Jeff lost it on this and jumped up from the bench.
Jeff: Oh wait a second! That’s ridiculous!
Me: That’s a cop out. I don’t complain unless there’s reason to. Don’t say that to me. You missed the call. That’s why I complained.
Amazingly, neither of us was tossed, but I think he wanted to do it. Jeff looked at me and said, "I can't believe he didn't run you for that." But we had a good laugh anyway. Hey, it's Little League. It's supposed to be fun, right? It was. And it turned out that, after looking at the rules, old Snuffy was correct about that foul tip line. Go figure. Always trust the ump. And I might add, that when a coach argues with me while I'm umpiring, I still enjoy getting into it with them. It's part of the game. I say, as long you don't say nothing about my mama, bring it on. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GUGE2teGwaI)
As a treat, Jeff and I took 4 of the boys to the New York City High School Championship game at Cyclone Park, in Coney Island, where the Cyclones play. We picked up Ned, Rod, Geoff, and Fred in the city and the 6 of us drove out there. We took the boys for some dogs and famous french fries as well. It was the first time I had been to the stadium, right on the boardwalk, next to the famous Nathan's hot dog stand. We had a great time at the game, a thriller that went extra innings. Fred found out during the game that I was on facebook and wanted to friend me. He kept bugging me about it. Jeff had given me some advice about there being a fine line between being a coach and a friend and it was important to maintain the authority figure persona. "You can be friends with your players," he said. "But never so much that they forget you're the coach. Otherwise, you'll lose respect on the field." Sound advice. I've had some great relationships with coaches in my past, but I always remembered that they're my coach first.
Hanging out with the kids was great. While coaching, Jeff and I treat the boys like they are older than they are. That sometimes gets us into trouble, as we forget they are only 12 years old. But an outing like this allowed us to remember they are just kids. It was refreshing to see their youthfulness and innocence. And it probably will help me as a coach down the road. But I have to say, spending 7 hours with four 12 year olds is not as easy as it sounds, (or maybe it’s as difficult as it sounds) even when you feel only slightly older than them yourself. They are a lot to take. Especially when Fred kept farting in the back seat and Ned was talking absolute jibberish and slurring his words from all the Mountain Dews he had at the game. Jeff and I thought he was on drugs. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mo0baknLDdU) He also reminded me of this kid. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txqiwrbYGrs&feature=related) (Really??!!! 77 million hits??!!! C'mon, it's amusing, but not that funny. You'd think people had more to do in their lives than look at youtube clips. Wait a minute....) They both couldn’t stop laughing for a good 20 minutes. Meanwhile, Rod was fast asleep and Geoff, the quiet, innocent one, looked like he was watching a horror movie as he sat between them both. As much as I enjoyed my time with them away from the field, I was happy to get out of the car.
Next episode: The Last Dance?
No comments:
Post a Comment