The worst slump ever

By Ethan Smith

It's probably the worst drought local baseball fans have ever seen. I've been an umpire for four years now, and I still haven't ejected anyone.

"What's wrong with me?" I ask myself, as I daydream during the sixth inning. "Why can't I be like the other guys?"

Maybe I'm too nice. When you're a nice guy, you just get kind of used to letting people walk all over you, like coaches and parents. Maybe that's my problem.

Or maybe my skin is too thick. Having new moms yell at you because their aunt's name was misspelled by their own husband when he's filling out the birth announcement will do that to you. You just shrug and move on.

I think I'm the only local umpire who steps out onto the baseball field to actually get away from verbal abuse.

There are coaches in all leagues — and some parents — around western Montana who coast in and out of our lives once every few months during the summer. They have reputations. We talk about them, the way scouts talk about future prospects.

Fortunately, most of them don't live in Lake County.

We chase down rumors. Did he move? Did he retire from coaching? Did her daughter decide to switch to soccer?

We have trading cards that we swap with the faces of all the obnoxious parents and coaches, listing all their stats, like most ejections, what innings they took place in, what league their kid is in, their decibel reading, and the number of restraining orders they have against them. A rookie card from an Earl Weaver-type parent goes for about $50, in case you're wondering.

But I try to give everybody a chance, no matter what I've heard through the umpire grapevine. Yes, we have an umpire grapevine. It's faster and more comprehensive than the Internet.

I almost had my first ejection a couple weeks ago. I came so close, but I just missed it. Shane Wilson, who was working the plate, beat me to it.

Shane stole my opportunity to break out of my slump, but I forgive him.

The coach in question was visiting us from a couple hours away — thank the Lord — and his reputation preceded him. By about two years. I'd heard about him even when I was still umpiring the Cal Ripken kids.

This guy is so bad that Lou Piniella even said he has anger management issues.

But, like I said, I try to give everybody a chance. Things started off pretty well, and this guy didn't say a word. Didn't hear a peep out of him. Things were going great!

But, we actually had to get the game started, so I knew that wasn't going to last. (My personal record, in case you are wondering, is about 20 minutes before game time. I had a parent ask me if I was going to cheat in favor of Team A. I asked him if he could at least wait until the game started …)

Despite a couple of warnings from me, he kept chirping away. ("Chirping" is an umpire term, referring to the constant chatter in the background, like birds chirping outside your windowsill on a pretty summer day. The chirping is always there, in the background. No matter what. It doesn't go away. It gets into your skull. With birds, it's pretty; with grown men, it ain't.)

Then, in between innings, he started chirping at Shane, even though I was the one he was mad at.

So Shane warned him. And warned him again. And warned him again.

And then tossed him.

I have to admit, I was a little jealous. If Shane could have just waited another half inning, when this guy's team would be at bat again and he would be the base coach, I would have gotten the chance. Shane stole my thunder!

But, sometimes the moment is so special you just can't pass it up.

It would have been a great first ejection for me, too. I mean this guy was really asking for it. Nobody would have second guessed me on this. This coach was so obnoxious that Earl Weaver tried to sign him up as a minor league coach in the Orioles organization, right there on the spot.

Before he left, he said since we were getting 45 bucks to do this game, he might as well get his money's worth. And boy did he get his money's worth.

Somehow, I think somebody owes me another 10 bucks or so.

So, I'll have to wait another game, or another season, before I get my first ejection. Oh well. Sigh. There will be other opportunities.

Oh yes, there will be other opportunities.