I worked a tournament game yesterday (not LL). It was 14-16 on the 90-foot diamond. I was BU in a two-man system.
It was a lovely night under the lights. Bugs were everywhere, but I was armed with Backwoods Cutter. The flying beasts kept their distance from my poison-covered flesh. With all the talk of the West Nile Virus and Lyme Disease and other such nastiness, chemical warfare against the blood-sucking "Air Force" is almost a necessity in this day and age.
We were seeing some good quality ball. The kids were putting on a show defensively, with an occasional offensive burst. It was fun to watch, and even more fun to bang the outs on all the whackers. There were plenty of 'em, let me tell you.
There was a lefty on the hill mixin' it up very well for a team from Smithfield, RI, where the Patriots have their training camp. Of course the Patriots have nothing to do with this story, I just figured I'd sneak them in there.
Anyhow, for the first few innings I noticed the pitcher's plate (I prefer "pitcher's plate" - at a field where I played as a youngster, some jokster wrote "Trojan" in black magic marker across the pitcher's plate - you see why I prefer "pitcher's plate"?) kept getting completely covered with dirt. I didn't notice anything unusual, so I just figured it was a lousy mound or something, with very loose dirt and dust. I thought it couldn't be helped.
Then I began to notice that the pitcher was playing games with the dirt-covered rubber. He'd straddle the pitcher's plate in order to fool the runners into believing he was on it. He never started a motion or nothin', he was not balking.
His coach asked for time to talk with him for a moment in a sticky one out, bases loaded situation. They had their conference just off the mound.
I ran up and cleaned off the pitcher's plate with my foot, it was pretty covered, and then I ran back to take my position. Just as I turned around I noticed the pitcher was back on the hill kicking dirt all over the rubber. He was covering it up again!
I said, "Whoa! Hey there, clean that rubber off!"
He looked at me, a little annoyed and said, "That's how I pitch!"
I was taken aback at first, but then I said, "Well, this is how I umpire. Please clean off that rubber"
He did, although he wasn't very happy about it. Then I had a short talk with his coach, whose only response was, "Well, he knows all the tricks," and the coach smiled.
"So do I, Coach," I said, "so do I."
Okay, so maybe my story was a bit anti-climactic. But as I looked back on it, I thought about how many times and for how many years those identical events have played out, and on how many different ball fields and in how many different countries? I felt like I was a part of history, a part of tradition.
Baseball is the most amazing sport in the world. History plays no bigger role in any other sport.
She's a grand ol' game.
Sincerely,
Jim Porter
[This message has been edited by Jim Porter (edited August 13, 2000).]
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