Empathy for the umpire

DOVER-FOXCROFT — I stood there, looking at the orange mat behind home plate, wondering to myself, “Where did that pitch just land?”
I was looking right at the pitch the whole way through, but I didn’t quite see where it landed. With a 2-2 count, the pitcher and batter were both staring right at me waiting for me to call the pitch a ball or a strike.
There, on the orange mat, was the imprint. Strike 3. It was clear to see now that I looked closer, but that moment of indecision had daggers cast at me from the batter’s eyes. She was not a fan, and I don’t blame her.
As the next batter walked up to the plate, I began to ask myself, “Why did I volunteer to ump this game?”
Umpires are hated people, some more than others. It depends on just how bad the ump does his or her job that night, and even that’s a subjective thing considering one play can make the difference in a game.
It’s a thought that hit home the other night when I was playing league ball in Veazie. Standing in center field, I watched as the shortstop rifled a throw to first base, causing the first baseman to make a reaching stab at the ball, falling to the ground. She never took her foot off the bag and had full control of the ball the whole time. This was obvious to see, even from 80 yards away.
However, the ump called the base runner safe, causing all of us to suggest to the umpire in a kind way that we are looking out for his well-being and that maybe tomorrow would be a good day to call his eye care specialist and have his eyeglass prescription updated.
As I made the walk back to the dugout, I realized I probably would have made the same call during the Friday night softball league in Dover had I been the umpire.
The thing is, I’m not decisive enough on calls. When I am decisive, I usually end up botching something — like that time I called the guy out but swung my arms in a “he’s safe” motion. It leads to confusion, to tempers flaring and to me seeking that elusive Southwest Airlines plane from the TV commercials when they ask “Do you want to get away?”
While all the players in the Dover league are good sports and sportsmanship is something that seems to run high at the Fairgrounds, I hope I get my act together one of these weeks and call a clean game. Otherwise I’m fairly certain the proverbial daggers that were cast at me last Friday night could turn in to actual softball bats hurled at me in the near future.