My husband has been a baseball and fast pitch softball umpire for about 10 years. Some umpire wives go to games to see their husband’s ump. Me, I rarely attend. It’s not that I am not interested in his hobbies. I am. I just don’t want to be ejected again.
Yes, in one of his rare ejections, my husband tossed me from the field of play. I will admit right here and now, that he had no choice. I have a problem when people pick on him or my daughter or my dogs. The Bronx in me comes out, and well, it’s not a pretty scene.
At this game, which in our house is known as the “the night we almost got divorced” game, my husband was the home plate ump for a 12-and-under softball game. Yes, the tournament was important. It decided who got the bid to go to Nationals. With so much on the line for these teams, the head honcho of the umpires association asked my husband to do home plate.
My husband is a great ump. I know that sounds prejudiced, but I am repeating what others have told me. He is well respected by other umps, and the coaches and players like when he shows up to officiate their games.
Anyway, at this one particular game, the game where he ejected me (in case you didn’t read that part), I stopped by the field on my way home from running errands to see how he was doing. It was hot, so I brought him an extra drink. I stood near the bleachers that were next to the first base line. There were already two outs in the inning, and I felt some tension from the crowd sitting in those bleachers. After the batter took the first pitch, the ump let out a loud “Strike”. Then I heard a father in the bleachers scream,
“Are you blind? Are you an idiot? That was clearly a ball.”
I now recognized the source of the tension. Yes, this game had an irate parent. It’s sad but it’s a fact of organized sports that each team has one of those parents who cannot keep his or her mouth shut. These parents feel it is their right to try and sway, through intimidation, the way an umpire calls a game.
My daughter played travel ball and varsity softball throughout high school. On each team, we had our share of parents who thought their kids were the next Babe Ruth. Okay, in our case, they were the next Babe Ruth with breasts. They believed their kids were the best, and this perception allowed them to believe that they had the right to say anything to anyone. They insulted coaches, parents and umpires. They were self-proclaimed experts on the game, and unfortunately, they always showed up at every game.
Anyway, back to this game – you know the one where my husband ejected me – Did I mention that already? I knew I should have left when I realized that there was a troublemaker parent in the vicinity, but like a good train wreck, I had to stick around and watch. The irate dad was standing on the bleachers, and he was clearly agitated. He was upset at everything from the balls and strikes calls to how the third base coach was telling his base runners to lead. He complained loudly, and he was so sure that the rest of the parents agreed with him.
The other parents did not say anything to the irate dad. They chose to ignore him. After the second pitch, my husband called another strike. The irate parent shouted again, “You moron! Can’t you tell the difference between a ball and strike?”
My husband still ignored him. He is very cool behind the plate, but I could see his patience was wearing thin. Finally, the batter swung at and missed the last pitch, and that, as they say, ended the inning. Well, it ended the inning for everyone but the father of the kid who struck out. He started going ballistic. He was screaming and yelling. Even the other parents started to shift away from him. My husband watched for a second, and told the coach that if the dad did not calm down, he would be ejecting him. The coach kept apologizing for the father’s actions, and then he told the dad to sit down and be quiet.
Do you believe the parent did not listen to the coach? Instead, he started to curse – at my husband. Well, that’s when I sort of got involved. I told him that he was an embarrassment and that this game was supposed to teach kids about sportsmanship and responsibility and teamwork. I said that he owed the ump an apology and he said,
“Who the hell are you to tell me that? If you like the ump so much, why don’t you just sleep with him?” And I said,
“I already do, you idiot!”
Then he said,
“F off”. At least he didn’t use the real word. I will give him kudos on this point.
Now, the coach and the other parents got involved. They were yelling at this dad, and I was yelling at this dad, and he was yelling at me, and then my husband came over and glared at me and the dad, and he ejected us both.
At that moment, I was a bit ticked off at the ump, but I realized that I did not help the situation at all. However, I think the crowd was happy I came because I gave the ump a good excuse to get rid of the parent from hell. I probably should have said nothing, but he was picking on my husband, and well, I know it may be hard to believe about me, but sometimes my emotions take over, and this was one of those times.
When my husband got home that night, I still was a little miffed. I couldn’t just let him think he could throw me out of places without paying a price for it. He apologized, but he said I left him no choice.
“I probably would have ejected that guy in the next inning anyway,” he confessed. “I give parents a little time to think. It’s best for the kids if they don’t see their parents ejected, but sometimes I have to take that step.”
I forgave him, and then the ump thought we were back to normal, so he tried to circle the bases at home with me. Silly, silly ump. It was my turn to eject him from the playing field.