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A few years ago when I was still living up in northern VA and having dinner at home with my UIC, I got a call from my association's president. He said, "Manny, I need for you to go to XYZ HS and do the plate for the varsity game against ABC HS. Don't want to go into details, but our assignor screwed up and left about five games completely uncovered!" I replied, "What time does it start?" He said, "6:30 pm." It was already about 6:20 pm, and the school was 20 minutes away.
Problem was, I was already on my second glass of wine. I took off to the school and got to the field fully dressed out by about 6:50. By "fully dressed out," I mean protective gear, uniform, and about three pieces of gum in my mouth. The coaches were standing by the backstop pissed off enough that nobody showed up in time; the last thing I wanted was to smell of wine while doing the plate meeting.
We had to wait another ten minutes or so for my partner to show up; they refused to start the game with just one umpire. When he did, he just went straight to the A and we got started. After the end of the T1, my partner came over to me and said, "Shit, I was on my third beer!"
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"Let's face it. Umpiring is not an easy or happy way to make a living. In the abuse they suffer, and the pay they get for it, you see an imbalance that can only be explained by their need to stay close to a game they can't resist." -- Bob Uecker
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