(DON THOMPSON / iNFOnews.ca)

OPINION

My eyes focused on the bag, watching for the very instant when his foot would touch, while listening for the familiar sound of horsehide hitting leather. A moment later, in a span of hundredths of a second, the ball and the runner arrived at first base. You train yourself not to blink.

A full second later, I made a fist with my right hand, and flexed my arm at the elbow. The base runner was out. I heard and ignored the usual “tie goes to the runner” critique of a spectator. There are no ties in baseball…neither at the bases nor on the final scoreboard. You learn quickly as a baseball umpire that you are wrong half the time…if you listen to spectators.

Good umpires know the rules of baseball…so well they can almost recite them word for word. Beyond that book knowledge…comes the actual experience of calling bases and balls, strikes and outs behind the plate…where whatever might happen…usually does.

Last month - after a few decades away from a ball diamond - I umpired my first baseball game here in British Columbia. It was not something I planned exactly. A good friend, Pat Balfour, an experienced umpire here knew I had called balls and strikes in the States since 1973. Last year he suggested I come out of “retirement” and call games this Summer.

iNFOnews.ca columnist Don Thompson is seen in this undated photo umpiring a baseball game in Vernon.

Image Credit: SUBMITTED

I promised to consider it, but would have to get in shape…lose 30 pounds. Turns out I lost 40. Like many of my fellow umpires, I call behind the plate and on the bases. I work about three games a week…Midget (ages 16-18), Bantam (ages 13-15) and Men’s League (20-somethings to 40-somethings), who often call themselves members of the “Beer League”.

Umpiring - like riding a bike - comes back pretty fast...even years later. A few innings into my first game it seemed like I’d never left. There were few rules changes in my absence…that’s part of the charm of baseball…continuity. I found myself moving almost intuitively around the infield…and behind the plate.

Between my years in the U.S. Air Force and nailing down my first corporate job…I umpired. In my early- to mid-20s while I was studying at the University of Florida, I called about 50 games a season…large high schools, American Legion and university-level ball. I loved the game…and the money was great…$35 behind the plate…and $25 for the bases for a college-level game. That’s $185 today…$250 Canadian.

On June 3, 1976, as a 25-year-old, freshly minted university graduate, I was offered two jobs. General Electric wanted me to work in its Washington, D.C. News Bureau, and my umpiring had caught the eye of Major League Baseball, which offered me an umpiring job in Indianapolis, IA, calling balls and strikes for the American Association, a double-A minor league  program.

The pay was dissimilar…GE offered more than twice what umpiring paid. I was young, married…and long story short…the higher pay check won out. I didn’t give up though. Once in Washington, D.C., I became certified for university-level games with two NCAA conferences.

But when the big boss at GE learned later that Summer that I was leaving work early once a week to call balls and strikes, I was given a choice…work at GE or work somewhere else. My umpiring days…for awhile…were over. Twenty years later…when I worked for myself…I came out of “retirement” then, as well.

All of this gets to the real point of this column. I love baseball, always have. But perhaps even more, I love what baseball stands for and how those who play the game - regardless of age - never lose their passion for it.

If I had forgotten the depth of that passion…I found it again here in British Columbia…and by assumed extension…perhaps all of Canada.

I am a member of the BC Baseball Umpire’s Association, and like my fellow “brothers in blue” follow the lead of Michael Sanfilippo, president of Vernon Baseball Association…who is as passionate as the come about the game…and the community.

The players and coaches love the game, of course. And so do the parents, grandparents, spouses and friends who show up to watch the games.

These folks - young and not-so-young - show up early, are genuinely respectful and appreciative that we umpires are there to call their games. Not only did the coaches introduce themselves that first game, but so did most of the players during warmups and as they took the field during the game.

The top of the first inning, a 16-year-old playing first base nodded and said, “Hi, Blue, my name is Ryan.”

I smiled, and replied, “Hello, Ryan, I’m Don…I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.”

It was - I found - not a rare occurrence…the players were to a man…courteous and respectful. At the end of the game, the players not only shook hands with their opponents…they shook hands with me. Frankly, I don’t remember that happening in games I umpired in the States.

Then, as I was getting into my car, I stopped - shocked to see that the players, coaches and even parents and friends - were raking and repairing the pitcher’s mound and batters’ boxes. Also, I found out later, they chalk the foul and base lines, coaches and batters’ boxes, catcher’s box and running lanes…and even mow the grass…before the games.

In the States, those tasks were almost always handled by a recreation department maintenance crew. The players and coaches - who loved the game - showed up…played and coached…and left. Maybe it’s a function of population and funding, but I think the way it’s done here in British Columbia…in Canada…reflects perfectly the game of baseball. It just feels right.

So, “Play Ball!” And, thanks for making me feel at home, on bases or behind the plate.

— Don Thompson, an American awaiting Canadian citizenship, lives in Vernon and in Florida. In a career that spans more than 40 years, Don has been a working journalist, a speechwriter and the CEO of an advertising and public relations firm. A passionate and compassionate man, he loves the written word as much as fine dinners with great wines.

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