[Carl Childress]

Originally posted by WhatWuzThatBlue
[B]You also suggested that if the ball beats the runner by five steps but the runner makes a terrific slide, avoiding a high and lazy tag, you'll call him out because it is expected. That is classic ego at play and horribly tragic. Your vanity prevents the proper call from being made. God forbid you should have to explain your call to a coach! "Not me, I'm the great and powerful Carl Childress, I make the expected call because appearance is better than accuracy." How difficult is it to say, "Coach, the ball did get there early, but tell your fielder to tag the runner so I can call him out."?

Your ignorance of my published work is almost beyond belief. Let's take a look at an excerpt from my book, 51 Ways to Ruin a Baseball Game, RightSports, 2002. (Actually, if I didn't know better, I might think you were giving me a chance to publicize the book. It's available at http://shop.officiating.com/ for $11.95 plus shipping.)

On the other hand, there are moments in your career when you hear that irresistible command: “Carpe diem!” Seize the day.

My students used to say: “Go for it!” Destiny calls. Fame awaits.

Play: R1 goes to third on a single to right. You’re the UIC and you hustle down to third because you see the ball is also headed for that base. The ball beats the runner by quite a long way, but the throw pulls the third baseman to the outfield side of the bag. Still, he has plenty of time to pivot back and get the glove onto the ground in front of the bag. Flustered, he goes for the runner instead of the dirt. R1 fakes left then slithers right and slides around the glove. By the time it touches his chest, he has his hand on the bag.

The ball was there in plenty of time. The fielder did not juggle it. He did tag the runner. But it was not a routine slide.

You may be the only person in the park who knows that the runner’s hand was on the base well before the “high” tag. That is the situation that tests your “judgment,” not your call of “safe” or “out,” but your decision of how you will handle the call. Should you pronounce what everyone saw? Or should you deviate from the norm? If you make the routine call, practically nobody will know the difference, not even the third-base coach.

But an unusual play deserves an unusual call. The baserunner executed above and beyond the demands of duty. He deserves a medal. “Safe!” you yell, signaling vigorously and then patting your chest to show where the tag landed. You might even get away with that: “Grace, the Blue seemed really sure of himself, didn’t he? I wonder what happened. He looked out.”

The defensive coach may hop out to question your eyesight, your honesty, or even your lineage. You can take all that, secure in the knowledge that you called exactly what happened.

Some amateur umpires always take umbrage at such advice. “You’re cheating!” they say. “Who are you to take that upon yourself? You must always call exactly what happened.” Then, they do that, and they wonder why they never advance.

Originally posted by WhatWuzThatBlue
What section of the umpire manual contains the "expected call" philosophy? I didn't hear Davis professing that view last year. In fact, he said they were being scrutininzed more intensely and told to get the call right.

I presume Davis is Gerry Davis. Here's another excerpt from 51 Ways....

...[W]e don't see the phantom double play very often in the big leagues anymore. Every game is televised. No umpire wants to see ten replays showing him calling an out when F4 wasn't within a foot of the bag. But they don't have ten TV cameras bearing down on your every move at your local park.

Originally posted by WhatWuzThatBlue
Are you also one of those umpires that won't call a strike if the catcher doesn't catch it with his webbing up? You probably don't like to call the non-swinging strike when the catcher can't hold the pitch. I've seen these umpires before and they love to tell catchers to grab it clean and they can sell it. B.S.! (Correctly used emphatic element.)
Call the damn pitch and leave your ego at the gate.

Here's a passage from Behind the Mask, published by Referee Enterprises. It was in its fifth edition in 1991, and I was told it was the best-selling book in the history of Referee. Sadly, it's no longer in print. But Working the Plate, published by Gerry Davis, is - and you can get it at the same site as 51 Ways....

Should a catcher “frame” a pitch?

Never. That unqualified “No” needs some qualification. When a professional catcher “frames” a pitch, he presents it to the umpire. On the corner the glove fingers are vertical, not horizontal. A low pitch is framed the same way. In the big time, catchers who don’t properly present the pitch lose strikes.

But amateur catchers think framing the pitch is taking a pitch that is a little outside your zone and pulling it back across the plate as they grab it. They may call that framing the pitch; I call it framing the umpire. When F2 does that to me, I usually call “Ball.” I really don’t care where that picth was since everybody saw him pull it. If I should blunder and call that a pitch a strike, even when it was, the coach on offense will use my guts for garters.

But don’t overdo that insistence on well-framed pitches. We cannot expect amateur catchers, even those who play for top-rated college teams, to properly present every pitch. Behind the Mask

Don’t insist on miracles, though. You can’t expect your catcher to look like Benito Santiago. If you must teach your catcher one skill, settle for getting him not to jerk the pitch onto the plate. The next guy who calls that team may send you roses. Working the Plate

If you want to discuss "missing the plate," I have an excerpt from 51 Ways.... that makes my point crystal.

But for now...

Everyone on The Forum knows your problem: You've painted yourself into a corner, and there's no way out. To mix my metaphors, you've tied yourself onto a sinking ship called "consistency." Your clamor for "getting the call right" ignores a hundred and fifty years of baseball tradition and practice. And the farther the amateur umpire goes down the food chain, the more he needs those historical guidelines.

Here's a quote from a man slightly more famous than either of us: "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds." (Emerson, Self-Reliance, 1841.)