Taking shots from behind the plate

Politicians should be forced to listen to their own speeches. It

should be mandatory that airline executives eat plane food every day

for lunch.

Architects must be made to work in the buildings they design.

It should be a law that auto mechanics drive your car for two days

before giving it back to you after any major repairs.

Mini-mall developers must be made to try to fit their cars in

those tiny parking lots over and over again.

Professional athletes should have to ask a kid for an autograph

once a week and get rejected.

Depart- ment store managers should be required to have their desks

placed in the middle of the store’s perfume section.

But most important of all, any parent who is enrolling their child

in any sport should have to umpire at least one Little League

baseball game.

The Costa Mesa National Little League does not hire umpires. If

you are managing a team, you are required to find someone to umpire

for about eight or nine games for the division just below your own.

Each year, managers hold a meeting with parents before the start

of the season. There, they divvy up the duties such as candy sale

coordinator and snack bar coordinator. I’m sure most managers will

agree that the toughest job to fill is the umpire slot.

Being an umpire is no small commitment. You have to attend an

all-day camp and then spend time umpiring eight or nine games either

on Saturdays or in the early evenings on weekdays, when you’d almost

always rather be somewhere else.

At last year’s meeting, I asked for a parent to volunteer as our

umpire, and one hand shot up immediately. Bill Graham turned out not

only to be a very good umpire, he also provided the team with

important rule information during some of the games in which he was a

spectator. Bill is back umpiring again this season.

This season I was not so lucky. This year, I put out a call

several times for a volunteer umpire, but no one stepped up to the

plate (I’ve been waiting weeks to use that line). So I had to

volunteer myself.

I could tell you all about the class and how it was actually a lot

of fun, but the meat and potatoes of this story is about dealing with

the coaches, managers and parents who are trying hard to convince you

that being rude and obnoxious is acceptable behavior.

Behind the plate, you get a reality check: Despite all the fluff

about this being “for the kids,” it really is for the kids. I know

that because most kids don’t care about 99% of the verbal garbage

that is heaped on umpires by the adults who are supposed to act like

adults.

Kids don’t care that the pitcher is using the wrong type of glove.

They don’t care that the 10-year-old on the mound stopped and started

his windup on the way to delivering the ball. They couldn’t tell a

balk from a gorilla. They don’t care that a manager went out to talk

to his pitcher more than he was supposed to.

Kids don’t care -- they just want to play baseball. And despite

the best efforts of grown-ups to use their ranting and raving to make

this all about them, kids just want to have fun. Win or lose, they

will have fun.

But the parents who say rude things to umpires and come on with an

attitude don’t care about kids. They only care about themselves and

supporting their own fragile egos by trying to win games or blow off

steam by belittling an authority figure. Take it from a very

competitive person, that’s no way to coach kids.

I was confronted by a manager who questioned my umpiring in a

particular situation. Before I could agree with him and beg him to

tell the league to get rid of me, he became sour.

So, I asked him to set an example. What he said in return was

depressing, and I won’t repeat it because I don’t want to spoil your

morning.

Being behind the plate, you also realize that God did not create

all kids equally and that for many of them, their time at bat is very

precious. All they want to do is hit the ball, and they don’t need

any grown-ups to help spoil the moment for them.

Home run or strike out, those kids will still have fun simply

because they’re in the game.

I don’t know if I’ll umpire next season. But I do know that I’m

enjoying it now. Watch for me on the diamond -- I’m the guy in the

blue uniform with the white cane.

* STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and freelance writer.

Readers may leave a message for him on the Daily Pilot hotline at

(949) 642-6086.