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Old Sun Feb 19, 2006, 02:44am
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The first speech I ever gave at the Texas State Umpires Meeting was titled: "How to Call a Perfect Game, or, Why I Got Scratched in San Benito."

I went back to San Benito for playoff games in 1995 and 2003, the two years they made the playoffs (out of the last 30).

Well, I was back for a special game today/night. It was the First Annual Alumni Game. Yes, the first. Big crowd, television (for the whole game, two cameras, play by play FROM THE PRESSBOX ANNOUNCER - I hate that).

The coaches agreed that only Childress could work such a momentous event, so they called our Assignor and said: "Bert, send us Carl." Said Bert, "OK." I never liked Bert anyway.

Tonight marked a first for me, and I'll talk about that later. In the meantime....

We often make two-base awards when an infielder's first play is a throw that goes dead. Two from the time of the pitch.

We often make two-base awards when an outfielder's throw goes dead. Two from the time of the throw.

But we aren't so familiar with awards that are given after everybody has made a base.

R2, B1 hits deep to short. F6 gloves the ball on the outfield grass, looks at third to see if he has a play on R2 (no play), then turns back to first to see that B1 has aggressively rounded the bag. The shortstop's throw to first sticks in the fence.

First play by an infielder goes dead, but.... There were two runners (R2, B1); each made a base on the batted ball, so two bases from the time of the throw.

"Put him on third," I indicated to the base umpire. (Oh, I had the plate; I always have the plate.) The coach of the alumni comes out to talk. Says he, "Carl, that don't look right to me. Ain't he supposed to stop at second?"

"Joey, it's a long story but...."

Says Joey: "Ok. Put him on third."

But tonight was also the first time I ever voluntarily kept my indicator in my pocket. That happened because I was wearing gloves and I couldn't figue out how to turn the wheels.

I neglected to mention a small detail: At 6:00, an hour into the game, according to my wife keeping close watch via Weatherbug, the temperature was 41, wind out of the north steady at 25 mph, wind chill in the low 30s, light but steady rain throughout the game. The ball boy, a varsity player on the IR, said we went through two boxes of baseballs. He was so good, I told him I wanted to adopt him. He said: "I wish you would. My dad beats me." (His dead is the head coach.)

We went 8 innings and finally quit at 8:30, tied 2-2, because the alumni claimed they were out of pitchers. I think they just wimped out.

After a few posts, no doubt this thread will look like a case of "the first liar doesn't have a chance." Still....
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Old Sun Feb 19, 2006, 06:40am
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Quote:
Originally posted by Carl Childress
But tonight was also the first time I ever voluntarily kept my indicator in my pocket. That happened because I was wearing gloves and I couldn't figue out how to turn the wheels.

I neglected to mention a small detail: At 6:00, an hour into the game, according to my wife keeping close watch via Weatherbug, the temperature was 41, wind out of the north steady at 25 mph, wind chill in the low 30s, light but steady rain throughout the game.
Carl, if you want to use an indicator with gloves, try NFL receivers gloves. The fingertips have sort of a tacky rubberized material that lets you feel the wheel. But why wear gloves when its a balmy 41 degrees?

Mike

[Edited by Mike Walsh on Feb 19th, 2006 at 10:55 AM]
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Old Sun Feb 19, 2006, 08:03am
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Quote:
Originally posted by Mike Walsh
Quote:
Originally posted by Carl Childress
But tonight was also the first time I ever voluntarily kept my indicator in my pocket. That happened because I was wearing gloves and I couldn't figue out how to turn the wheels.

I neglected to mention a small detail: At 6:00, an hour into the game, according to my wife keeping close watch via Weatherbug, the temperature was 41, wind out of the north steady at 25 mph, wind chill in the low 30s, light but steady rain throughout the game. The ball boy, a varsity player on the IR, said we went through two boxes of baseballs. He was so good, I told him I wanted to adopt him. He said: "I wish you would. My dad beats me." (His dead is the head coach.)

We went 8 innings and finally quit at 8:30, tied 2-2, because the alumni claimed they were out of pitchers. I think they just wimped out.

After a few posts, no doubt this thread will look like a case of "the first liar doesn't have a chance." Still....
Carl, if you want to use an indicator with gloves, try NFL receivers gloves. The fingertips have sort of a tacky rubberized material that lets you feel the wheel. But why wear gloves when its a balmy 41 degrees?

Mike
Mike:
I have a much better idea, which is: Stay indoors when the temp drops below 65.

The thing is: I was warm everywhere except my face:

Two layers of Under Armour (one cold gear); regular shirt; west vest, black, waterproof thin jacket, heavy red/white/blue pullover; diamond shin guards and hockey helmet. (Is it good etiquette to keep the helmet on during the interval between half innings? I didn't 'cause I'm tough, right? I'm also 68. My wife said they were going to use my picture in the Spanish dictionary to illustrate the meaning of the word pendejo.)

Oh, and I had on those pesky, non-tacky gloves.

Balmy? My uh, foot. Our problem is usually 100+ weather; spirits of ammonia works great.
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Old Sun Feb 19, 2006, 08:24am
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Your comment about the bat-boy reminds me of a story thats passed around these parts, Carl.


Apparently there was a young man whose parents had recently been divorced. At the custodial hearing the young man was taken back into the judges chambers to discuss the issue privately.

The young man and the judge settled down in the quite room in small chairs opposite each other. The judge in a diminutive voice asked the young man;

"Son, would you like to live with your mother?"

To this the young man replied, "no, Sir. My mother beats me."

The judge then asked him, "Would you like to live with your father?"

Again the young man ansered in the negative. "No, Sir, my father beats me too."

The wise old judge pondered the predicament for a moment and replied, "Well then, if both of your parents beat you, who would you like to live with."

The young man paused for a moment before answering.

"Well, Sir. If it's alright with you I think I would like to live with the Chicago Cubs baseball team because they don't beat anybody!"


Tim.
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