Salute This Man
 

Ump 'offered them love in the form of rules
Your hat didn't match your shirt? You couldn't play.'

Mary Schmich | Tribune columnist
August 10, 2008
Drew Jones slipped into his chest protector, snapped on his red shinguards, pulled down his face mask and stepped behind home plate at Wells and Goethe Streets for the last time Tuesday evening.

It was the Zulus vs. the Bakongos, the championship game of the Near North Little League. But this wasn't just the end of a season. It was the end of an ump.

The field that evening was damp from thunderstorms. Little boys batted, tossed, ran, booed, cheered and cursed in the soggy air.

Paul O'Connor, a real estate broker and coach, looked over at the umpire, at the big body pummeled and slowed by years of balls that missed the catcher's mitt.


Related links
Umpire retiring Photos
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/c...9.photogallery

"Drew was the heart and soul of the league," he said. "There's nobody to replace him."

Jones has officiated the league's games every summer since the one 16 years ago when he walked out of the Oscar Mayer plant and saw some kids from the Cabrini-Green housing project playing ball.

He missed baseball. As a boy, raised by his grandmother on a North Carolina garden-farm, he'd honed his pitches by tossing rocks through a hanging tire.

He played in high school, then for the Army. He dreamed of going pro. Instead he came home from the military to the 1960s South and a future of jobs that paid $1.25 an hour.

When a cousin who worked at Oscar Mayer said, "Want to come to Chicago?" he didn't. He came anyway.

He was 26, had kids and a woman he thought about marrying. Chicago was too cold for her, so he came alone, beckoned by the promise of $4.61 an hour to shovel meat for hot dogs, salami and baloney onto a chopper belt.

In the beginning, he played ball out on the West Side, but the guys drank during the game, so he quit. Where he came from, baseball was as serious as your soul.

And that was the spirit in which he volunteered to umpire for the kids who played next to Oscar Mayer.

The Near North Little League wasn't famous in those days. This was before Keanu Reeves incarnated the founder, Bob Muzikowski, in the movie "Hardball." It was back before the luxury condos, when the Cabrini-Green neighborhood bubbled with kids who had few pastimes but trouble.

"The kids had a lot of anger in them," Jones said. "They felt like they weren't loved."

He offered them love in the form of rules. Your hat didn't match your shirt? You couldn't play.

"The kids are automatically kind of tough," said Korvell Curry, 17, who grew up in Cabrini and the league. "They're built for the worst to happen. But everybody look at Drew like: Don't play with him. If you back talk, he's going to throw you out the game."

Jones' rules could rankle adults too. Steve Bridges, a broker at Aon who coaches the Bakongos, remembers the time Jones wouldn't let one of the kids play because his pants were torn.

"My guy was crying," Bridges says. "Drew and I really got into it."

But even coaches who didn't always like his rules or calls came to respect his heart and dedication. After a rain, Bridges would drive over to check the field and find Jones there, raking.

Coaches have come and gone. Some left when they realized they weren't going to change the world, maybe not even many kids. Jones stayed, even as the Oscar Mayer plant closed and he got a job as a valet parker.

Now he works the overnight shift at a parking garage so that he's always free for games. He umps for the girls' league too. But a lot of Cabrini has been torn down. Kids have moved away. The league has shrunk.

Jones had surgery on a shoulder assaulted by a few too many wayward balls. He leans against the fence more now, can hardly crouch. He'd promised the aunt who helped raise him that he'd take care of her when she was old. She's 81, and so, at 61, he's going home to North Carolina to live with her.

"I don't know what the heck we're going to do next year," said Bill Seitz, who manages the league. "Who would come out here, do doubleheaders on Saturdays when it's 90 degrees?"

The Bakongos beat the Zulus Tuesday night, 12-10. Jones lumbered over to a 9-year-old Bakongo.

"I'm going to let you have this," he said.

With a sober look, the boy reached out for Jones' mask and chest protector. Then the ump walked alone into the summer sunset.

Nice story. Sounds like Mr. Jones made quite an impression on many that he came in contact with. I'm sure he'll be missed.

This story has to be a joke. By the way, it's the exact same guy that Poosey the troll showed us in that one Youtube video.

Hats off to him. The story of Bob Muzikowski and the league he helped found is an amazing and inspiring one. I highly recommend his book, "Safe at Home". It wasn't just about baseball for him, but also his faith and the difference he knew he could make.

Dang, almost brought a tear to this "tough guy."

May God bless him.

http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/c...9.photogallery

There's the photo of it.

[QUOTE=canadaump6]This story has to be a joke. [QUOTE]

What leads you to say that? The Chicago Tribune isn't exactly The Onion.

It's not a joke. Read it yesterday. Got to admire and respect a man who gave back so much to kids in the inner city.

[QUOTE=bob jenkins][QUOTE=canadaump6]This story has to be a joke. I don't mean to criticize or insult, but from looking at the pictures it is hard to believe this man could be taken seriously:

*No umpire's uniform
*Wearing shorts
*Chest protector and shin guards on the outside
*Leans against the backstop to make his calls

Probably never got paid a nickel for all his hard work either.

[QUOTE=canadaump6][QUOTE=bob jenkins]The uniform is reasonably typical of many "youth league" umpires throughout the country -- especially in one of the poorest areas. (I didn't see any pictures of him leaning against the backstop to make calls, but maybe I misinterpreted the picture.)

Then again, the article wasn't about "how to umpire".

Well, he wasn't a paid umpire. He didn't belong to any "association." He did what he did out of love for the kids, which is a very noble thing. He umpired for a league that couldn't get umpires of your caliber. They were lucky that they had this guy to do their games all those years. I'm sure he wasn't out there trying to impress the umpire scouts or to put on a fashion show. He went without a jersey probably because it was much cooler. Lots of youth ball volunteers wear their shin guards outside their pants.

It appears to me that this guy gave these kids a chance to play ball, where they might not have had one if he weren't there to umpire their games all these years. He may not have been what your idea of what an umpire should be, but it looks like you are in a minority when it comes to how seriously he should be taken.

Fair enough. Taking the level of ball and budget into consideration, I too can tip my cap to this man for his contributions to the game.

[QUOTE=canadaump6][QUOTE=bob jenkins]Talk about not getting it. He obviously did it for the love of the game and to give something back to the community. Who cares "how he looked."

[quote=gordon30307][quote=canadaump6]Don't blame Canada, we drummed "the correct look" into him over the last year. The gentleman may have done everything out of love, and for that he should be admired.

But you can't help looking at the pictures of him and thinking..... Smitty!