Zero to sixty in 0.1 seconds

Yesterday was another of the hated five-game umpiring shifts. It was also at one of the fields that has no shade. It also involved two of my least favorite teams to umpire. They both had doubleheaders. It was a recipe for a meltdown.

As meltdowns go, it was pretty tame; still, I'm not proud of my blowing up and I'm also not saying the players involved didn't deserve some shouting at. Mostly I point to it as a reason five-game shifts are generally not a good idea.

It wasn't really a big deal to start with. There is a notation in the rules of this league that if someone hits an over-the-fence home run, they don't have to run the bases, we just count the runs and move on. That's all well and good in theory, but in practice when there are already runners aboard they too just leave the field rather than come around to score. So in game four of the day, someone on this team I don't like very much hits one out with runners on and doesn't run the bases. Later on they belatedly complain that I have the score wrong, they say they have one more than my tally shows. We trace that to the aforementioned homer, which I tallied as a three-run shot and they claimed was a slam. I let them have the run, because this tends to happen: baserunners see the ball hit and just leave the field, while I watch the ball to make sure it clears the fence, then tally the runs, and if one or more runners is already in the dugout by that point they don't get counted.

I'm six hours-plus into the shift by this point, they're pissy, and I have no patience. "This is what happens when you choose not to run the bases," I say, loudly, in response to more bitching. "Someone leaves the field before they're counted! That's the risk you run!" This is misinterpreted, of course, as me telling them none of their runs-on-homers count and there's arguments about how that's not how it worked last time and it starts going in circles.

After the inning, I go to their dugout again to try and smooth things over and better explain, but instead three of the team's number double down on hostility. "Show me in the rulebook where it says we have to run the bases!" "You should just know how many runners are on all the time!" "None of the other umps ever take runs off the board because of this!" So instead of smoothing things over I shout back. "This is how you want to play it? I've been out here for 6½ hours, imagine how much patience I have for shit like this! Just don't leave the damn field before you're counted and there's no problem, you got it?!"

I considered going to the adjacent field and swapping games with the new guy who's working that field, but dismiss the thought as unprofessional and unfair to him. I stuck it out. One of the problem guys hit another home run later on and turned to me and pointed to the fence and said "that's a home run," condescending as he walked to the dugout. In their second game he was on base when someone else hit one out and did the same thing, and I said, "Dude, are you trying to get thrown out of the game? 'Cause I'll oblige you." He shut up and later came up to me and pretended he was only saying those things to make sure I had the run count right, which is undermined by the fact that he never mentioned the run count, but hey, he's trying to smooth things over in his own CYA kind of way and I just want the game to be fucking over, so I say fine, all good, play on.

There was also shouting and hostility about a play involving the infield fly rule. This same team was batting, runners at 1st and 2nd with no outs, and the batter popped one up. "Infield fly, batter's out!" The defense let the ball drop and the baserunners—not knowing the infield fly rule, apparently—try to advance and the defense—not knowing the infield fly rule, apparently—try to claim a double play because they threw the ball to first and stepped on it, thinking they got an out because the runner didn't tag up. "Not how it works," I said, and explained that all the infield fly rule means is that the batter is out and thus the runners aren't forced to move. That's all. Play is live, runners can do what they like, and tagging up would only apply if the ball had been caught. More yelling, more bitching, more overheard comments from the dugout about how I cheated them out of something. More of my patience worn away forever.

We also ran way late in the latter half of the day because of the other team I don't like to ump, who is incapable of starting on time or moving the game along at a normal pace, which is bad enough when they only have one game and is twice as bad when they play two. This is mostly because of one person, who is on the autism spectrum, but everyone who's been around a while knows that trying to rush them along is counter-productive because you risk a shouty delay of anger and sometimes crying. The opposing team, understandably, wants their whole time and doesn't want me to cut the game short because of the other side; I think that's a fair request, even though I would prefer to end the game on time anyway as a disincentive to that delaying team to keep pretending that it's fine to make things run late. So instead of wrapping things up at 7:30 like my colleague on the other field was, I still had half a game to go and wasn't done and leaving the field until nearly 8:30pm, tired, hungry, frustrated, sunburned, and a little upset with myself for losing my cool.

Wasn't entirely bad, though. The earlier portion of the day involved interactions with teams and players I do like, so for two games I had a good time. Third game was still OK. Wheels fell off after that.

I'm not on again until next Sunday as summer schedules are starting to wrap up, though I do have a message I've yet to answer about filling in for someone for one game tonight. Haven't decided yet. I can always use another $50, and it is just one, but I still have the headache from yesterday going. We'll see.

Tagged Umping, Softball, Posted on August 10, 2026 at 4:42PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Bits and pieces

All-Star Game AQI: Very Unhealthy

So, there've been a few things I've been meaning to post about, but time and energy haven't been forthcoming for it. So a disjointed one today and hopefully back to real posts over the weekend(?).

• ITEM: The MLB All-Star Game was a dud for the 7th consecutive year. I don't know exactly what to suggest for de-dudifying the All-Star Game, other than doing away with the unconscionable home-run derby tiebreaker that marred last year's ASG (some of the best ASGs have been extra-inning affairs, which can never happen again so long as that stupid rule exists). But it would be in baseball's interest to tweak some things. As a friend of mine put it last night, in a way it's amazing anyone gets any hits at all in these games, since every pitcher is elite and they're only in the game very briefly. And this time around, the National League team barely had any, with Juan Soto notching a base hit in the 4th and nothing else until PCA got a hit in the 8th and Otto Lopez lined one in the 9th. One walk in the first, one in the seventh. Zippo otherwise in a year when the NL is far and away the superior league in terms of team strength (of course, the ASG is all about individuals, where there's more parity). Meanwhile, the American League team plated three in the first inning and that was effectively it for the game, after that just a solo homer from Miguel Vargas in the 8th that went by in a blink. We were wondering if this game would set a record for most strikeouts, but no; that happened a few years back in another dud.

  Other than changing the selection process to better choose the participants, I don't know how to fix this, or even if it needs to be fixed, but there are a couple of things I'd like to see beyond obliterating the HR Derby tiebreaker. One, mandate that the starting pitcher pitch at least two innings unless he gets hurt or unless he gets lit up. Then it's actually a bigger deal to be named starter than to just be an opener in a bullpen game. Two, no more mid-game interruptions—in Bud Selig's day we'd get mid-game delays to make a speech or something, these days it's a delay for some sort of stunt or performance like it's a miniature football halftime show. This year it was a video of a bunch of kids riding their bikes to a ballgame followed by real kids riding bikes onto the field, I think as some sort of homage to the film The Sandlot. Also midgame fireworks that flooded the ballpark with particulates and haze. Do that shit before the game or don't do it at all.

  Maybe the biggest problem, though, isn't the game itself but the broadcast of the game. It's hard to follow the game as it's being presented to us. Fox Sports has taken to interviewing players—including, this time, both the pitcher and catcher at the same time—while they are actively playing the game, which, OK, can be entertaining in spots but generally is pointless and has to be distracting for the players, in addition to being a sideshow from the game itself. The commentators have interviewed players after they come out of the game forever, that's fine (so long as we can still see what's happening on the field) and less intrusive. But I'd do away with players taking earpieces with them out to the field to chat with Joe Davis and John Smoltz, or whomever takes over play-by-play duty in the future. Not unrelatedly, the Fox crew doesn't reliably let us know when players come into the game, and there are a ton of substitutions going on after the third inning of an ASG (elected starters have to play three frames); many fans are wanting to see "their guy" play, and sometimes we don't know until a ball is hit to his position and we see the guy make a play. "Hey, my guy is in! Wonder how long he's been out there. Could've been two or three innings for all we know." The broadcasters are too into doing their goofy/inane Q&A with players as they're trying to play to really pay attention to much else. We also should get more in the way of graphics and info on the All-Star players; you get some with the starters as the lineups are announced, but a lot of these guys are unfamiliar to the audience outside of their home markets, it'd be nice for the casual fan to see why, say, rookie Tristian Peters made the squad instead of just wondering amongst themselves as we did, "hey who's that White Sox guy, what's his deal?" Do a little graphical info dump when new players enter the game. And John Smoltz is his own category of problem, he's just terrible as a commentator whether it's the ASG or a playoff game or anything else.

  We enjoyed mocking the thing here, though.

• ITEM (related): Another quote from Craig. From the "this date in baseball history" section of Craig Calcaterra's newsletter today: "1909 — Ed Summers of the Detroit Tigers allows only seven hits and pitches all 18 innings of a 0-0 tie—the game was called due to darkness—with the Washington Senators. It's the longest scoreless game in AL history. Yet, somehow, it was still far more compelling than the 2026 All-Star Game."
• ITEM: People are dumb, and people with fireworks are super dumb. My umpiring shifts for Capitol Hill games have been/are being moved elsewhere because some idiot set off fireworks on the Cap Hill field's synthetic infield and damaged it to the point of unplayability. That whole set of athletic fields is in need of resurfacing, yes, but until a week-and-a-half ago it was still plenty usable. This happened to a lesser extent last year at the Ballard fields where the Spuds play and we had to navigate our play around a hole between first and second base. Can we just be done with fireworks? They're pretty, but the particulates, the smoke, the noise, the fire hazard, is it really worth it? Drone shows are less damaging.
• ITEM: Spuds done for ’26: Speaking of the Spuddies, we played our playoff game yesterday and it did not go well. Full post on that coming later on, but we were trounced.
• ITEM: The health care system in this country is a joke, part 2,352,091. I had my annual checkup today, and I had to go to a new doctor for it. My prior doc doesn't take the insurance I have now, which I switched to because Republicans made the premiums on the insurance I had the last couple of years unaffordable. So I had to go through the rigamarole of again finding a new primary care doc, which I did a couple months ago and today was the next available appointment I could comfortably swing. So I find my way to the new place, go to check in, and am told this doctor isn't taking new patients, but we can do my annual check. "Wait, what?" This didn't compute with me. "If she isn't taking new patients, why am I here? Why did this appointment even get accepted in the first place?" The reply was gobbledygook that made no sense to me, but I was already there and my Rx is going to run out in a couple weeks, so I said fine, we'll do this and then I'll go through the whole process yet again next time I need to see someone. The nurse/med tech guy was sympathetic when he was getting my vitals and such, and after he left the exam room I heard him explain to the doctor in detail about the scheduling fuckup, and in the end the doc agreed to take me on anyway. It may or may not work out well, I don't really have a sense of her as someone I can relate to. The prior doctor was a good fit, I wish I could've kept seeing her, but we live in the US of A, where everything medical is dictated by what insurance you can afford, because people are stupid and keep electing Republicans.
• ITEM: Felon47 went on TV with his tin-foil hat. The alleged President of the United States, a convicted felon and perpetrator of several frauds that were settled out of court as well as many that have yet to be charged, the most grandiose and prolific liar on Earth, made a "speech" about made-up election conspiracies tonight. He distorted intelligence that we already knew about to make it sound (to him, anyway) like there were rampant issues with foreign operatives that are not the actual issues with foreign operatives which benefit him, he made already-debunked claims of mass-voting by non-citizens. He whined and grievanced his way through a pathetic spectacle intended to do two things: Create support for his pet voter-suppression bill that as it stands has no chance of passing either house of Congress, because he wants to be able to cheat in elections with impunity; and take the news media's focus off of the Iran debacle, gas prices, oncoming economic calamity, the outrageous things said by his unqualified criminal lackey nominees in confirmation hearings going on this week, his Air Force One fuckups, the reflecting pool bullshit, ICE murdering people and getting away with it, RFK Jr.'s direct responsibility for both screwworm and parasites in our lettuce (and the need for me to have gotten a measles vaccination today), deaths in DHS custody, the embarrassing NATO summit, his petulant refusal to sign a bipartisan housing bill that became law anyway (which he may not know), his staff getting caught using inside info to make Kalshi bets, his flip-flopping Strait of Hormuz "policies", a judge slapping him down hard on his "settlement" with the IRS, the Republican push for an unconscionable increase in military funding, his and Pete Hegseth's various war crimes, his illegal harassment of journalists, and the evergreen scandal of the Epstein Files. We can't wait for this maniac's term to run out, we need to elect as may Democrats to Congress as possible, by margins too big for him to cheat against, and remove him ASAP.

Tagged Baseball, MLB, Umping, Softball, Politics, Republicans, President VonClownstick, Health, Craig Calcaterra, Posted on July 16, 2026 at 8:51PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Spuds fight valiantly but drop twinbill to Bat's, Frogs

BALLARD (STN)—The Smiling Potatoes of Death capped their 2026 regular season with a doubleheader at Ballard Playfields last night, dropping both games by identical scores of 12-8. The Spuds finish the campaign with a record of one victory and eight losses, yet still have an opportunity to advance; the team will play first-place finisher Seattle Cattle next Wednesday in the Ballard Division playoffs.

The 1-8 season is a regression from last year's 2-7 mark, though that record does come with an asterisk. "We did have two wins last year," said co-captain Stacey Starr, "but one of them was by forfeit. Seattle Cattle didn't show up to play. So, really we matched what we did in ’25."

In yesterday's first game, the taters took on Bat's Amore in a rematch of the season's opening day game, which Bat's Amore won 21-10. "We improved on that one, anyway," said shortstop/pitcher Dan Stevens. "I think we might have won with a decent ump, though. That guy might've cost us a couple of runs."

Stevens was referring to the bearded umpire working Field 1, who has what might charitably be called a fungible strike zone. Said starting pitcher Tim Harrison, "I asked [the umpire] what his zone even was after the second inning. Maybe my tone wasn't too friendly, I don't really know, but basically I wanted to know where he was marking the top and bottom of the zone, because I threw three consecutive strike threes to a batter that were called balls 2, 3, and 4. He didn't like being asked. He just said 'a strike is a strike and a ball is a ball.' I didn't continue the argument, but he kept on, saying he would call things 'deep' if he wanted to. That was actually informative, or at least suggested he knew what I was talking about. I think it means he thought those three pitches were all high." Catcher Carly Eberts disagreed. "They were not high. One of them was down the fucking middle, you couldn't ask for a more textbook strike."

Though Bat's Amore didn't plate any runs as a consequence of that particular walk, the poor pitch calling continued throughout the game, prompting Stevens to assume anything not perfectly placed would be called a ball. "I know from batting, too," he said. "He called balls on a couple pitched to me that I thought I should've swung at." Outfielder/first baseman Brian Tschider concurred, admitting he benefited from bad calls. "Oh, I was struck out, no doubt about it. Called ball four. I'll take it, though." In the end, the umpiring likely didn't make much difference. "Really, as frustrating as it was as a pitcher, it was probably a wash," Harrison said. "And I just have to remember that it only helps the league that I ump for when these guys are so unbelievably bad."

The Spuds nevertheless took a promising 4-0 lead in the third inning. After emergency callup Ben Amster led off with a possibly suspect walk, outfielder Amna Mirza cracked the first of her three hits of the game. Dan Stevens followed with a base hit to score Amster, then after a groundout Chris Eaton blasted a deep fly into left-center field that was misplayed for a costly four-base error. "I need to have a word with the official scorer," Eaton said. "I mean, OK, the guy could have caught the ball, sure, he was right under it, but it's not like he kicked it away or something. I want those three RBIs, I don't want to see 'four-base error.'"

The lead would prove short-lived, as Bat's Amore came back with five in their half of the third, connecting for five hits and taking advantage of a pair of costly errors. The Spuds threatened again in the fourth, but Kim Stevens lined into a bad-luck double play to shift the momentum; Bat's Amore then tacked on three more in the home fourth. Down by four, the tubers again put runners on to start the fifth. Eberts led off with a walk—"legit, for a change," she said—then Amster and Mirza both singled and Dan Stevens reached on an error that scored Eberts. Outfielder Jess Palmer plated Amster with an RBI groundout, but the threat died when Eaton popped to short and Starr lined into another hard-luck double-play.

Bat's Amore would get one more in the home fifth to make it 9-6, then again the Spuds closed the gap. Harrison led off the sixth with his second hit of the day, then C/OF Rachel Fryan lined a single up the middle. First baseman Mack McCoy followed with a double to the left-center-field gap to plate both runners, making it a one-run game, but then 2B KM Crawford struck out and Tschider chopped a slow grounder to shortstop. Harrison, running for McCoy at second base, made a rookie baserunning mistake and took off for third on a ground ball hit to his right and was easily tagged out, which proved to be key as the next batter, Kim Stevens, lined a base hit to center that might have tied the game had Harrison stayed at second base. "It was just dumb,"  Harrison said. "I mean, that's baseball 101. I just wasn't thinking. We might have been better off if Bones had run for himself." The side was retired on the next play, a liner to short.

Perhaps dispirited by the unfortunate top of the frame, relief pitcher Dan Stevens gave up three more runs in the bottom half on a long home run with two aboard to put the game away. "I don't know," Stevens said, "counts don't mean that much at this level of ball, but when you get behind in the count even though you're throwing strikes it just seems like your going to eventually put one on a tee. That homer was on a pretty fat pitch, but I didn't want to walk the guy." The bomb extended the Bat's Amore lead from one to four, but the Spuds weren't able to plate even one in the seventh, so it was ultimately academic. "Whether we lose by four or lose by one, we still lose," Harrison said with a shrug.

For game two the Spuds shifted to Field 2, where they got a pleasant surprise. "Hey," Harrison said as they approached the other diamond, "is that J.T.?!" Indeed it was J.T., the only good umpire in the entire Seattle Parks & Rec staple of officials and the only one whose demeanor and engagement is welcome by all and adds to the fun of the game. "I went up to him before our second game got going. 'Are we glad to see you,' I told him, though I didn't get into the problems we just had with the other guy. Seriously, I wish we had J.T. for every game."

Having a superior umpire may have added to the overall enjoyment, but the end result of the nightcap was the same. "Both games were 12-8, but this one seemed a lot worse somehow," said Starr. That likely was because the opposition, the Little Frogs, scored first and were never behind at any point in the game.

"Clearly, they were out for revenge," Tschider said, referring to last week's Spuddie victory over the Frogs.

Thirst for vengeance or not ("I say not," Starr remarked, noting the general friendliness of the Frog squad), the petite amphibians scored two in the first on three singles and a sacrifice fly. Though the Spuds answered with two of their own in the home half, the Frogs got them back in the second thanks to a pair of walks and two more singles. "I can't blame the umpiring for those walks," starting  pitcher Harrison said. "I mean, J.T. was even giving me strikes on the corners—no other SPR ump ever gives you the corners. I just didn't have the good stuff this game." The Frogs would add an unearned run in the third, then three runs in the fourth and three more in the fifth. That made the score 11-2, a pounding more reminiscent of typical Smiling Potato games that end with a premature mercy-rule finish.

Not quite at that threshold, though, the Spuds showed some life in their half of the fifth. Mirza led off the frame with her fourth hit of the day, then Harrison walked and both advanced on Palmer's groundout. Tschider made the second out on a harmless comebacker, but Starr singled to left to drive in two, Amster singled, and then Fryan clubbed a double to left-center field that scored Starr.

The score remained 11-4 until the seventh, when the Frogs got one more on a double and an error to cap their scoring. In the home half, the Spuds chose not to go quietly—Harrison led off with an infield single, Palmer grounded into a forceout, and Tschider singled to right. Starr forced Palmer at third, but then Amster laced a base hit to center to load the bases. Fryan tapped back to the pitcher, but instead of an easy second out, the pitcher threw the ball past second base into the outfield, allowing Tschider to cross the plate and keeping the sacks full. Dan Stevens followed with a sharp single to score two more before Kim Stevens went down on strikes and McCoy ended the game on an out of some kind that no one recorded on the scorecard.

"Eh, could have been worse," Harrison said. "I mean, what were the odds that we would get two wins in a season? All in all, finishing with a couple of relatively close games, getting through the season with fewer than half our games mercy-ruled, you know, it feels OK."

Eaton was less philosophical about the night. "I hit like shit today," he said. "If I'd gotten some hits we would have won these." Crawford reminded him of the three runs scoring on his deep fly in the first game, but it didn't soothe the shortstop. "That was an error, KM! An error! That. Doesn't. Count."

Reflecting on the night at the bar afterward, McCoy saw things in a positive light. "Doubleheaders are great," he said between beers. "It's the only way everyone gets enough at-bats to feel like they contributed."

Eberts chimed in, "Especially Amna! Four-hit hot girl! Whoo!"

The Smiling Potatoes of Death return to the field Wednesday evening for playoffs, taking on the heavily-favored Cattle in a longshot attempt to continue in the postseason.

 

SMILING POTATOES OF DEATH								Bat's AMORE
Batter	AB	R	H	BI	BB	K		Batter	AB	R	H	BI	BB	K
C. Eaton, ss	3	1	0	0	0	0		The Moon, p	4	1	1	0	1	0
S. Starr, 3b	3	0	0	0	0	0		Your Eye, c	5	1	1	0	0	1
T. Harrison, p/1b	3	1	2	1	0	0		Big Pizza Pie, 1b	4	2	2	0	1	1
R. Fryan, 3b/c/2b	2	1	2	0	1	0		Napoli, 2b	4	3	2	3	0	0
M. McCoy, 1b	3	0	1	1	0	0		The World, 3b	4	1	1	1	0	0
K. Crawford, 2b	2	0	0	0	1	1		Shine, ss	4	1	3	4	0	0
B. Tscheider, rf/1b	1	0	0	1	2	0		Too Much Wine, lf	4	0	2	2	0	1
K. Stevens, rcf/lf/rf	3	0	1	0	0	0		Vita Bella, lcf	4	1	1	0	0	0
M. Bodmer, rcf/lcf	3	0	1	0	0	0		Gay Trantella, rcf	3	0	2	1	0	1
C. Eberts, c	2	1	0	0	1	0		Tippy Tippy Tay, rf	3	2	2	0	0	0
B. Amster, lcf	2	0	2	1	1	0
A. Mizra, rf/rcf	3	1	3	0	0	0
D. Stevens, ss/p	3	1	1	2	0	0
J. Palmer, lf	3	0	0	2	0	0
Totals	36	8	12	7	6	1		Totals	39	12	17	11	2	4
SPUDS      0  0  4  0  2  2  0  -  8   BAT'S        0  0  5  3  1  3  x  -  12
2B: McCoy. E: Starr, Eaton, Bodmer, Eberts. LDP: K.Stevens, Starr. Team LOB: 13.								2B: Napoli, Gay Trantella, Shine, Tippy Tippy Tay. HR: Shine. E: The World, Vita Bella, Napoli, The Moon. DP: The World-Napoli, The World-Big Pizza Pie. Team LOB: 11.
Pitcher	IP	H	R	ER	BB	K		Pitcher	IP	H	R	ER	BB	K
T. Harrison (L)	4	11	8	3	2	3		The Moon (W)	7	12	8	5	6	1
D. Stevens	2	6	4	4	0	0

 

Little Frogs								Smiling Potatoes of Death
Batter	AB	R	H	BI	BB	K		Batter	AB	R	H	BI	BB	K
Flysnatcher, p	4	3	3	2	1	0		R. Fryan, c/2b	4	1	2	1	0	0
Hypnotoad, c	5	2	1	0	0	0		D. Stevens, ss/p	4	0	3	2	0	0
Tomato Frog, 1b	5	0	1	2	0	0		K. Stevens, 2b/lf/rcf	4	0	0	1	0	2
Kermit, 2b	4	1	4	3	0	0		M. McCoy, 1b	3	0	2	1	0	0
Tadpole, 3b	4	0	1	2	0	0		C. Eberts, c/2b	3	0	0	0	0	0
Croaker, ss	4	1	0	0	0	1		C. Eaton, lcf/ss	2	0	0	0	1	0
Lilypad, lf	3	1	1	0	1	0		A. Mirza, rcf/rf	3	1	1	0	0	0
Xenopus, lcf	4	1	2	2	0	1		T. Harrison, p/1b	2	1	2	0	1	0
Ribbit, rcf	3	1	0	0	1	1		J. Palmer, lf	3	0	0	0	0	0
Jeremiah, rf	4	2	2	1	0	0		B. Tschider, rf	3	1	1	0	0	0
								S. Starr, 3b	3	2	1	2	0	0
								B. Amster, lcf/rcf	3	1	2	0	0	0
Totals	41	12	15	12	3	3		Totals	37	8	14	7	2	2
FROGS      2  2  1  3  3  0  1  -  12 SPUDS      2  0  0  0  3  0  3  -  8
2B: Flysnatcher. 3B: Xenopus. HR: Kermit. SF: Kermit. E: Tadpole, Flysnatcher. DP: Flysnatcher-Croaker-Tomato Frog. Team LOB: 13.								2B: Fryan, D. Stevens. E: Eaton 3, Starr 2, D. Stevens 2. GDP: Palmer. Team LOB: 10.
Pitcher	IP	H	R	ER	BB	K		Pitcher	IP	H	R	ER	BB	K
Flysnatcher (W)	7	14	8	6	2	2		T. Harrison (L)	4	10	8	7	3	2
								D. Stevens	3	5	4	3	0	1

Tagged Softball, Posted on July 9, 2026 at 11:01PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Spuds win! SPUUUUUUUUDS WIIIIINNN!!!

BALLARD (STN)—Yesterday's Seattle Parks & Rec softball game between the Smiling Potatoes of Death and the Little Frogs resulted in an occurrence as rare as a total solar eclipse: a win for the Spuds.

At the center of the action for the victorious taters was shortstop/OF Chris Eaton, who clubbed three hits from the leadoff spot. Finishing a homer short of a cycle, Eaton also scored three times and drove in one to propel the Spuds to their 7-5 triumph.

"I was seeing the ball well today, what can I tell you," Eaton said. "If my teammates hadn't gone down so fast in the 7th, I would have had the homer too. But they wilted like week-old celery when I was just six spots from coming up again. I mean, come on."

The Spuds got out to an early 1-0 lead in the first. Eaton tripled to lead things off, then C/2B Carly Eberts swung fiercely at a 2-2 pitch, knocking the ball perhaps two feet in front of home plate for a leg-single. OF/IF Mike Plaster followed with an RBI grounder. The team added a run in the second when team captain Stacey Starr singled and came around to score on a two-out hit by OF Greg "Floyd" Bjarko.

The Little Frogs fought back in the home second, with a first-batter home run into deep left-center field off starting pitcher Tim Harrison. "Home runs aren't hit, they're thrown," the southpaw said, "and that one was served right up on a platter." The longball was followed by a base hit, a fielder's choice groundout, another single, and a walk to load the bases. The Frogs plated the tying run on an RBI grounder before ending the frame on a strikeout.

But the tubers still had some mash in their bats. Harrison led off the third with a clean single the opposite way that stayed fair by a matter of inches, then one out later advanced to third on Eaton's double. After Kim Stevens went down on strikes, Plaster chopped one to the infield that was misplayed for an error, allowing both Harrison and Eaton to score and restore the Spuds' two-run lead.

That's where things stood until the sixth, when Harrison led off with a walk and was then safe on a fielder's-choice grounder by Kim Stevens when he slid into second base ahead of the throw. Eaton then singled to score Harrison and advance Stevens, and both runners moved up on KM Crawford's groundout. Plaster then plated Stevens with a ground ball that sent Eaton to third, and Starr capped the scoring off with a base hit to drive in Eaton with the Spuds' 7th run of the game.

The taters went down quietly in the top of the seventh, but were riding a 5-run lead. With Harrison back on the mound after two effective relief innings from Dan Stevens, victory seemed assured, but Harrison had quietly suffered an injury while scoring in the sixth. "I jammed my finger," he said. "I was running hard around third, knowing Chris' hit wasn't that deep, and when I came into the plate I was moving at a good clip. I jumped up against the backstop fence to stop my momentum and hit my left middle finger hard on the chain link."

Not thinking anything of it in the moment, the usually-capable lefty toed the rubber without problem initially; the leadoff batter popped out to Eberts at second base and the next grounded out harmlessly to first-basewoman Leah Schultheis. But according to Harrison, "that was just lucky. I couldn't get a proper grip on the ball with the pain in my finger, but they swung at junk." The next sequence didn't go so well, as Harrison walked the next batter on consecutive pitches, allowed a sharp single to the next Frog to bat, and then served up a mammoth three-run bomb that went nearly all the way to the fence abutting the adjoining field's first-base side.

While attempting to retrieve the home-run ball, LCF Bjarko tweaked a hamstring and had to come out of the game, and during the brief delay Harrison was approached by third-basewoman Starr, who asked if he could continue. After briefly considering turning things back over to Dan Stevens, Harrison told his co-captain he was fine, quietly hoping he had enough dexterity in his fingers to get one more out. It didn't look good initially, as the next Frog batter walked on four pitches to bring up the potential tying run. "I somehow found enough control," Harrison said of his work to the final batter, who struck out looking on a full-count pitch to the lower part of the strike zone. "It was a big relief."

"That was so smart," exuded OF Brian Tschider. "Walking that guy with two outs? Great strategy." When told the walk to the penultimate batter wasn't strategic but because of finger pain, Tschider wasn't buying it. "He said his finger hurt?! Oh, Tim's so full of shit. That was totally purposeful. Great move."

Defense also played a big role, with Starr and Eaton both catching hard liners in the infield and Dan Stevens making a highlight-reel catch while falling down in left-center field.

"I can't remember the last time we won a game," said Crawford, having blanked on the team's triumph of June 11, 2025, a 13-5 defeat of Bat's Amore. Eaton reminded her of that win, claiming that "I remember every one of our wins. Other teams, they don't know when they won or not, but with us, the wins are rare jewels that stand out in the bleakness of otherwise constant rubble. So, yeah, last June 11. Before that we beat Buckner that one time."

In addition to Eaton, three other Smiling Potato batters reached base each time up, Starr (2-for-3, reached on error), Bjarko (2-for-2), and Harrison (1-for-1, BB), and only three of the 13 batters failed to reach in some manner or other without forcing anyone out. "It was a real team game," Starr said. "Everyone did something."

The Spuds next take the field next Wednesday for a doubleheader, with one game against Bat's Amore before again taking on the Little Frogs at Ballard One. Harrison is scheduled as the starting pitcher, though he's currently listed as day-to-day with a grade-1 sprain in collateral ligaments of the left middle finger.

 

SMILING POTATOES OF DEATH								Little Frogs
Batter	AB	R	H	BI	BB	K		Batter	AB	R	H	BI	BB	K
C. Eaton, lcf/ss	3	3	3	1	0	0		Bullfrog, 1b	4	0	0	0	0	1
C. Eberts, c/3b/2b/of	3	0	1	0	0	1		Tadpole, 2b	2	1	1	0	2	0
M. Plaster, 3b/of/1b	3	0	0	2	0	0		Ribbit, 3b	4	1	2	0	0	0
K. Stevens, lf	3	1	0	0	0	2		Kermit, ss	4	1	1	3	0	0
B. Tschider, rf/lcf	2	0	0	0	1	0		Toad, lf	4	1	1	1	1	0
K. Crawford, 2b	3	0	0	0	0	0		Lillypad, lcf	4	0	1	0	0	1
D. Stevens, ss/lcf/p	2	0	1	0	1	0		Tree Frog, rcf	2	1	0	0	1	0
S. Starr, 3b	3	1	2	1	0	0		Xenopus, rf	3	0	2	0	0	0
M. McCoy, c	3	0	0	0	0	0		Pond Frog, c	2	0	0	0	1	0
A. Mizra, rf/rcf	3	0	0	0	0	0		Croaker, p	3	0	0	1	0	0
G. Bjarko, rcf/lcf	2	0	2	1	0	0
L. Schultheis, 1b	3	0	1	0	0	0
T. Harrison, p	1	2	1	0	1	0
Totals	34	7	11	5	3	3		Totals	32	5	8	5	5	2
SPUDS      1  1  2  0  0  3  0  -  7 FROGS      0  2  0  0  0  0  3  -  5
2B: Eaton. 3B: Eaton. E: Eaton, 2. LDP: Eberts. Team LOB: 9.								HR: Toad, Kermit. E: Bullfrog, Kermit. DP: Croaker-Bullfrog. Team LOB: 10.
Pitcher	IP	H	R	ER	BB	K		Pitcher	IP	H	R	ER	BB	K
T. Harrison (W)	4	4	2	2	2	1		Croaker (L)	7	11	7	5	3	3
D. Stevens	2	2	0	0	1	0
T. Harrison	1	2	3	3	2	1

Tagged Softball, Posted on July 2, 2026 at 8:07PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Umpire diary

Last night I had a three-game umpiring shift at Cap Hill starting less than 24 hours after the five-gamer at Northacres the day before ended. Because I'm the old man of the league staff, I don't bounce back from those brutal five-gamers like the other umps do and I was thus at less-than-100% and would rather not have been working. My feet hurt before we even got going. (Though that last probably had more to do with me wearing the wrong shoes. Those need more insoles.)

Still, it wasn't a bad night. In what might be a first, the many people sprawled all over the field when I was setting up moved out of the way on their own accord, not one of them required cajoling of any kind. Then my first game featured a bunch of players I like and who were happily bantering with me and each other the whole game even though it was a lopsided affair in which the losing side only avoided a shutout with one run in the final frame. It's good that the earlier game featured those folks and wasn't close because of the usual problem of the sun setting directly in my line of sight from behind home plate; on a few pitches/plays I simply could not see. During the worst of it I only half-jokingly said to the pitchers, "I'll warn you right now, I'm just guessing on these." On one pitch I just flat out said, "I couldn't see it, so ball one. It has to be something." Apparently it was a pretty good pitch, if the reaction from the (very understanding) pitcher is anything to go by.

It occurred to me between innings that what we really need at that field is a giant tarp, maybe 60 feet wide and 20 tall, strung between the center/left-center field light poles. Preferably with a mechanized mount and a sort of pulley system and a remote control to shift it up and down as needed when the sun sets. That shouldn't be so hard to put together, right?

Game two turned out to be a mere scrimmage as the favored team only had seven players show up and thus had to forfeit. So instead we did a little mixing and matching of players to fill out two full squads and did six innings of practice; not ideal, but hey, no stakes on a playoff night means no arguments, so I'll take it.

The final game was 180º from the first, a back-and-forth affair that ended 21-19 after a reversal of fortune in the bottom of the 6th. It was also interrupted by (a) soccer shenanigans, including soccer players clumsily shoving their goal structure through the middle of our field because they couldn't maneuver it around; (b) a small child throwing a tennis ball into our outfield over and over again for his dog to fetch until someone finally found the kid's parent/supervising grownup; and (c) a dude on a scooter crossing back and forth through the field, once perhaps not knowing he was in the way, but subsequent times, apparently, just to be an asshat. We didn't finish until 11:15.

No rules or call debates last night either, unlike Sunday afternoon when I had a guy whine about the arc of pitches being somehow insufficient because of not just height but angle, which is not a thing (that's what the strike zone is for) and someone else claim that baserunners who advanced on a sacrifice fly had both left their bases too early and should have been called out. (a) I know from lots of experience that you simply cannot watch more than one baserunner at a time with a sac fly to see when they leave their respective bases, and (b) that's not how outs work. The complainer did make a proper appeal at one of the bases, but it was the one I was not paying the most attention to since it wasn't the run-scoring possibility, so when I signaled "safe" (i.e. he didn't leave early) I was less certain than had they appealed at third, but since the complaint was about both of them I knew it wasn't really based in fact so I just ignored all further protest and moved on. Don't test me on five-game days.

Today I feel much better rested and will not make the shoe mistake again, so when I go to do tonight's single game it should be smoother sailing. It also won't be at Cap Hill, so crazy antics will be at a minimum.

 

Tagged Umping, Softball, Posted on June 16, 2026 at 5:49PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Lemonade from lemons

Last night my softball team, the Smiling Potatoes of Death, played another game and once more got to play a full seven innings without being mercy ruled. You might think this is a celebratory event, continuing our unprecedented streak of non-mercy-rule-shortened games, but the only reason it wasn't shortened was because our umpire, the newly-christened Worst Umpire in the World, did not know what the score was.

I mean, we'll take it. We never like being told we only get four or five innings to play. But it was hard to enjoy once again, because of the ridiculous officiating.

We played against a team that is made up mostly of players I know from my Northacres ump shifts on Sundays, so it's not like we had no fun at all. And, most likely, I am more sensitive to the atrocious umpiring than the rest of my team is because I, as an ump myself, am so much more in tune with just how very bad this dude was at his job. (I'm by no means a perfect ump, I make plenty of mistakes, but not like this guy. I know the rules, for one thing, and if I'm not sure of something or I know I've blown a call I'll own it.)

Like a couple of weeks ago, I was only partly successful in holding my tongue during the game. While I did not attempt to give this guy a seminar on what the rulebook says about the batters' box, I did tell him that he had to actually, you know, make it known to the players beyond the batter that he was calling someone out for any reason, even if it is a made-up "violation" of a rule. When it seemed there was a missing baserunner, we had to ask him what was going on; he said he'd called someone out for stepping out of the box, and I told him that "none of us knew that," to which he replied, "that's not my fault."

"YES, IT IS." I said. "YOU'RE THE UMPIRE."

I also yelled to him that he had not called an out-of-play ball as being out of play and allowed an illegal home run. I also made reference while batting to his quiet "humf" noise to call a strike call as insufficient. I also did several nonverbal things that no doubt revealed my displeasure with the umpire's performance. At one point it became clear that my co-captain was a hair's breadth away from making a visit to the mound (I was pitching) to keep me from getting ejected. And yet, I really was holding back.

But after the game was over for a while, I began to change my attitude. Too late for this game, of course, but for next week and then on, I will not be voicing or expressing clear displeasure with the Seattle Parks & Rec umpires no matter how absurd their job performance. Instead, I will appreciate it. I will probably even laugh.

These guys provide a service to the league I umpire for by being so incredibly bad. My work league is, after all, considerably more expensive to play in than is a season of SP&R softball, so a vast disparity in officiating quality can only help. The rules we use are better, the time limit on games is longer, and the officiating is far and away better, giving, hopefully, a proportionate value for the higher fees. I don't know all of the umps that share in my work league; we always have some turnover and I'm not allowed to train the newbies any more, so it's possible we have a lemon or two in the mix. But I feel safe in postulating that the worst of us is an order of magnitude better than the best ump working an SP&R game. (I think we had the top of SP&R's heap last week and he was merely inoffensive.)

It occurs to me that I'm beginning to repeat myself a bit, having written some of this same stuff two games back, so I'll move on.

Oh, we lost by a score on the order of I-don't-really-know-but-let's-call-it-17-3. In SP&R the teams themselves are responsible for scorekeeping and reporting winners and losers and so on, and our dugout was a bit inattentive when our side was in the field and didn't keep track. Plus, with a couple of runs disallowed by the umpire because reasons, I'm not even sure how many we scored. I do know that I had another crap game at bat, with nothing but weak grounders and another 0-fer. Alas.

Meanwhile, my week as an umpire myself continues in a little while as I have two games tonight. I had four games last Sunday, two scheduled on Monday which were rained out, and three Tuesday. I'll cap the week with two tomorrow night as well. Tuesday at Cap Hill was rather uneventful as Cap Hill shifts go, but there was still a fair number of squares to mark off on the bingo card. It was my only shift there this week, so I'll have to wait until Monday to try again for a first bingo.

 

 

Tagged Softball, Umping, Posted on June 11, 2026 at 6:15PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Bullpen Bulletins!

Taking just a few minutes here before I head out for more umpiring tonight to blurt out a few things...

• ITEM: SPUDS avoid being mercy-ruled for second consecutive week! My softball team, the Smiling Potatoes of death, lost to Lab Rats 12-5 last night. The loss was not a surprise. The score was—Lab Rats have historically wiped the proverbial floor with us, but yesterday we avoided going down by more than ten runs and thus being mercy-ruled into an early exit. Just like we did last week! Who-hoo! Manufactired triumph. I was 0-for-3 with two bee-stinger grounders and one solidly hit forceout grounder.
• ITEM: Felon 47 speaks to press in proof-of-life appearance. On the heels of yet another unexplained visit to Walter Reed Medical Center for a "checkup," Felon47 vanished from public view for a week. Again. He resumed his public lying and shitposting yesterday, so presumably he's recovered from this latest round of treatments for whatever it is he needs treatment for that the White House is hiding from the world. In the absence of any information from this, the allegedly most transparent administration in the history of the universe (wink-wink, nudge-nudge), I think it is perfectly reasonable to assume Felon47 is undergoing regular blood transfusions from sacrificial infants and the drained lifeforce of conned "volunteers" from fundraising emails. I mean, there's got to be some reason this monument to unhealth is still alive.
• ITEM: Is DNI a real job? Felon47 has nominated yet another corrupt, incompetent crony to a cabinet-level post, this time to replace Tulsi Gabbard as "Director of National Intelligence." There are myriad reasons Bill Pulte should never be confirmed to any job ever, let alone the DNI, but it does bring up the question: Why do we have a "Director of National Intelligence?" It is a redundant position, basically a human aggregator, to be the filter through which the actual intelligence agencies of the US government report things to the president. One of the many overreactions to 9/11 was to create this job, which didn't need to exist before, but because George W. Bush was too dumb to understand his Presidential Daily Briefs that included reports form the various intelligence agencies, it was thought that adding a cabinet officer to personally tell things to the president was better. Competent presidents don't need this. Incompetent ones ignore it. Criminally corrupt incompetent ones (well, one twice) appoint sycophantic toadies who make sure nothing too complex even reaches the Oval Office, basically ensuring the opposite result from the intent of creating the position. Among the many post-Felon47 reforms we need to take up, eliminating a lot of 9/11 overreactions might only make it to the tertiary group of needs, but axing DNI might be on the list.
• ITEM: I am bad at time management! I'd intended more items here, including one on Monday's umpiring and one on Tuesday's fun night out with K&E at the Mariner game, but it's already 5:30 and I'm running late. Got to go deal with more playoff umpiring tonight, hopefully no one will get too wound up and macho about their games.

Tagged Softball, Politics, Republicans, President VonClownstick, Posted on June 4, 2026 at 5:38PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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What not to do

I'm heading out to ump three games tonight at Cap Hill in a bit, but last night I was on the other side of things as a player in a softball game. My team, the Smiling Potatoes of Death, took on the oh-so-cleverly named Sea-Men, the team in our league (Seattle P&R softball, Ballard division) that nobody likes. To be fair, their rep is from years past and it seems like they've had some turnover and are perhaps not so annoying anymore, but still. Anyway, we held our own and had, in Deep Space Niner terms, a manufactured triumph by playing an entire seven-inning game without being mercy-ruled into an early finish.

So not bad. Fun. Ish.

The game was marred not by the team with the not-as-clever-as-they-think-it-is name, but by the umpire. As a fellow umpire, I had trouble keeping my opinions to myself on the subject but did refrain from making any comments directly to the ump working our game. I did not say to him, for example, "home plate is 17 inches wide, you can't only count ten inches of it," or "you are interpreting that rule wrong," or "that call may or may not have been technically within the bounds of the rulebook, but it violates the spirit of the rules and is just petty." The missed calls on the bases I wouldn't have complained about anyway, those will happen with anyone on occasion, and even if they're the norm with this guy that's a can of worms you don't want to open.

When I'm umping in the league I work in, there will sometimes be occasion to ask players why they're not coming back the next season or why they returned after an absence or something like that. It's pretty expensive, I get why teams might look for alternatives. But aside from the considerably lesser fees, no one yet has voiced a positive opinion on the Seattle Parks & Rec league when comparing. The rules are different and inferior, for one thing; SPR doesn't have a say in some of them because they contract with USA softball for umpires and they have certain mandates, but not one of the special rules is favored. But the main reason I hear from players returning to my work league is the officials. We're independent, not subject to anyone else's rule mandates, and even the worst of us is a better umpire than the best one you'll see at an SP&R game.

So, last night being an especially egregious example of how a bad umpire can taint everyone's enjoyment of a game and threaten to ruin a good time is something of an object lesson for me. Nothing I didn't already know, but an effective reminder that it pays to know what you're doing, it pays to acknowledge and own up to mistakes, and it pays to be clear and communicative. (Also, it reminds me once more that my employer league's best asset is its field staff and they really ought to step up when it comes to how they treat us; or, more accurately, take better care not to be insulting/reductive when dealing with us. But that's another topic.)

Oh, I went 1-for-3 (lineout, infield single, fielder's choice) and pitched six frames, giving up 17 runs; I'm guessing six earned, but I've yet to compile the numbers. Walked two, both umpire-aided and one was awarded on ball three because see above. Struck out one.

My three games tonight are a welcome return to a fuller shift after having a few one-gamers the last couple of weeks. Those hardly seem worth the trouble of going out there, especially in the age of $6 gasoline. Next week I've got two on Sunday, three Monday, two Thursday, and two Friday. That's a pretty decent week.

 

Tagged Umping, Softball, Star Trek, Posted on May 28, 2026 at 5:40PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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What a drag it is getting old

Middle age sucks.

On the other hand, it is vastly preferable to the alternative.

So, though I am currently complaining in a way, I'm congnizant of the fact that I live in an era when life expectancies are longer than ever and we benefit from modern medicine, sanitation, etc., and am overall doing pretty well. Your 50s ain't what they used to be. Average age of demise is in one's 80s now, while back when my grandfather was born, the average male that survived infancy in the US only lived to be 62 (of course, Grandpa beat that mark by 30 years despite decades-long addictions to tobacco and alcohol, so hopefully I've got his constitution).

At any rate, I'm at that age when I'm getting mystery injuries. Like, right now my right hand hurts along the pinky side as if it were bruised, but I have no recollection of doing anything to bruise my hand, nor is there an actual, you know, bruise. I did play softball last night, so maybe it has some connection with swinging a bat, but I don't quite buy that. I've had other little pains that I couldn't account for too, like I'm in that episode of The Next Generation where Riker and company are experimented on in their sleep.

Also, I have this damned floater thing in my right eye that has now been there for going on two years and I was told by the reliable source that is WebMD that it would have resolved itself by now. But it's still there being annoying. Add to that, when I wake up now my vision needs time to focus that it never needed before, which isn't a big deal but noticeable, and things that used to heal up quickly now take longer.

Anyway, such is the price of life.

Oh, and in my game I went 0-for-2, grounding into two forceouts; committed a throwing error and failed to hang onto a pop fly for a second error; and gave up three home runs while pitching. We lost 24-10 and were mercy-ruled after four innings.

Huzzah!

Tagged Softball, Aging, Posted on May 21, 2026 at 5:22PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Analogies to Doug Fister and Lucille Bluth

A couple of topics today, starting with last night's umpiring.

As on Monday, we were joined at the field by Alfred the amateur photographer and former Army medic. Unlike on Monday, we had no need for his medic experience, though it was a close thing. This time I was the one that went down in a heap.

About midway through our first game of the night, a batter for the team that calls themselves...I want to say Pushing Bunts, but I think that's wrong; they're a new team and their name isn't on the official documentation yet. Anyway, their batter took a cut at a fat pitch right down the middle and juuust got under it a smidge and fouled it straight back. At speed. At me. I instinctively began to turn and duck away, but I was nevertheless struck flush on the temple. I hit the turf and stayed there for maybe 10 or 15 seconds, during which time half the players on both teams were rushing toward home plate. I got up with a painful impact reminder above my ear, but otherwise none the worse for wear. I was good to go after a minute or two and thankfully didn't need to prevail upon Alfred's Army expertise. But it wasn't fun, and I felt it a bit more painfully later in the night well after I'd gone home. I took a couple Tylenol caps and I could ignore it again. Today it's pretty much fine, though I can still feel a phantom sting.

In retrospect, this was not a bad thing for my ego. Because all those players were concerned and one of them—I don't know who, I was still down on the turf, but it was a guy—said, "shit, dude, you can't get hurt, you're the good ump." Anyway, the rest of the night when several of the players came to bat they checked in. "You still OK, man? Only one pitch coming in at a time, right?" I waved them off. "I'm good, no worries. Occupational hazzard." Which is true, but I may be losing a step, because even though I've taken several errant pitches or foul balls to the shins or the sternum, I'd until now always been quick enough to get out of the way of anything at my head. But I think it must have looked pretty bad from the perspective of, well, everyone else, because there seemed to be real concern that we'd have to stop the games. I was reminded of either a World Series or playoff game several years back wherein pitcher Doug Fister of the Detroit Tigers was hit on the side of his head with a line drive back through the box. Everyone was rightly worried, but Fister just waived off the training staff and his manager, or tried to anyway, and shrugged it off like it was nothing and went back to pitching. He seemed annoyed by the attention. Of course, I also thought of Billy Wagner getting similarly tagged with a hard liner to the side of the head and he had to be carried off the field on a stretcher, so...yeah, there's a range of possibilities. At least (a) this is softball, where the ball isn't so dense and the speeds it travels aren't extreme; and (b) this was a foul tip with no extra velocity added to it by the swing of the bat. Really, the time a pissed off soccer player kicked a soccer ball at me was worse.

So we moved on and finished out the games without much other drama. The second game featured less experienced teams, which meant more errors, more weird plays, and, interestingly, a walkoff comeback victory by the team I figured would lose handily at the outset. I had to explain both the infield fly and obstruction rules to newbies, but nothing outlandish.

Alfred again shared some of his photos with me, so I'm including some here. Sadly, he did not get any shots of my close encounter with a foul ball.

Stephen and Colin celebrate finally throwing different options in rock-paper-scissors to determine which would be the home team. I think it took five tries?

 

I don't recall what this was about, but I'm probably saying something like, “yeah, it's an out, what do you want me to do?"

 

Here is when I and one of her teammates had to explain to the inexperienced first-basewoman why I called obstruction on her and ruled a runner who appeared to have been forced out to be safe at second base.

 

This and the next are actually from Monday, but I like them in sequence because this one shows my usual move of running with the batter toward first base in order to be in better position to both see a play at first and hear the pop of the ball being caught...

 

...and this shows my usual move when Joel is batting; I know he's not only going to be safe at first, but if there's a play to be made on him it will be at third, so I'm hurrying there instead. Typically I can get there by the time Joel's around second. He's not Barry Allen, but he is faster than most.

 

Onward to topic number two, our demented president.

The felonious moron occupying the White House held one of his mock Cabinet meetings today, wherein nothing of consequence was discussed. In fact, Felon47 was so uninterested in discussing substance that at one point he meandered off into one of his stupid "sir" stories. You know, a story he tells in which some other person addresses him reverently as "sir," which is a sure tell that it never happened. This one was about, I kid you not, Sharpie pens.

Of all the many many things this pathetic excuse for a human being says and does that are horrifying and imbecilic, this rates near or at the bottom of the list, but it still sticks in my craw because what he did with this story was have a Lucille Bluth moment on camera.

Apropos of nothing, he complained that the pens presidents have generally used in signing ceremonies, the ceremonial pens that are then typically given away as souvenirs to people attending the signing, are "thousand dollar pens" and "don't write very well" and that he really prefers the Sharpies. So he found himself talking to someone at the Sharpie company (sure, Donny) and said he'd prefer to use the Sharpie for these things but couldn't possibly use a commercially branded pen in front of the press and so on (sure, Donny), so the imaginary Sharpie guy told him they could make special Sharpies just for him, ones that say "the White House" and even have his signature on them, and that he could have them free of charge. Ever magnanimous, Felon47 insisted on paying for them (I mean, it's not his money, right, it's our money, who gives a damn about our money?) and that he used his "art of the deal" skills to buy them for five dollars a pen. "Five dollars instead of a thousand dollars, and the pens are better."

OK, two things: The ceremonial pens were nice pens, probably a couple hundred bucks a pop, but not a grand per pen. That's one of the fictitious numbers he pulls out of nowhere like when he says there are 15 points in his peace plan (that has zero points because it doesn't exist). And, the retail price of a Sharpie pen, when bought in a box of 36, is sixty-four cents. Even if we factor in the custom branding of "The White House" and all that, you can buy them retail—as I'm sure some White House staffer actually did—for a little more than a dollar apiece if bought in bulk. Good deal-making skills, you idiot. It's no wonder you don't care about inflation and the affordability of goods to American consumers, you've never pumped gas or bought groceries.

Of course, the interaction never really occurred, which means that even in his made-up fantasies about his alleged great deal-making he still fucks up and doesn't know it.

 

 

Topic three: Opening Day!

I did not get tickets to this year's opening day game, but will be at the park in person to see your Seattle Mariners on Monday night. Tonight I watched on TV, and for the first time in years did it without having to resort to skirting the system. We now have a local streaming option for the M's, and it's not all that pricey given the nature of inflation and the current economy. Of course, one could argue that the current economy means you don't add new expenses no  matter how reasonable, but the difference between the MLB.TV package I'd been using for years and that plus the new Mariner streaming product is basically the cost of one in-person game. So I put my tickets for tomorrow night on StubHub and assuming they sell will pay for it with the proceeds. It's going to be cold out there tomorrow night anyway and everyone I asked to go with me either said no immediately or bailed later, so this seemed a good option.

Meantime, the M's did play tonight and lost to the Cleveland Guardians. Because the only way the Mariners could score tonight was to hit solo home runs. Jesus, guys, I thought we'd been over this already: There are other ways to score in baseball. Put runners on base and move them along. To be fair, none of the four homers hit by the M's appeared to be "on purpose," it wasn't a case of swinging for the fences, just happy accidents on well-struck liners. But they also struck out 14 times, and the combo of four solo shots and 14 Ks and nothing else (their only other hits were two-out doubles, and not in the same frame) is not a promising way to begin the season.

Well, there's time to turn it around. 161 more to go, after all.

Tagged Umping, Baseball, President VonClownstick, Politics, Softball, Posted on March 27, 2026 at 1:41AM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Bloody Monday

Another umpiring shift at Capitol Hill, another game shortened due to lacerations.

Am I bad luck for teams playing at Cap Hill? Consecutive shifts there now have seen a player—two yesterday—get smacked in the face with a thrown or batted ball and have to leave the game. Last week it was a split lip, last night it was a forehead gash. And a bloody nose earlier. And an oblivious bystander got clocked in the head by a deep foul hit into the darkness as well, although that one I was unaware of at the time (I was informed later by the left fielder, who witnessed the impact).

Of course, I've done plenty of games there that didn't feature any blood or injury, so I know this is just the random nature of sports. But it does seem like I've seen more than my fair share of blood on the field this year, and we're only in March.

Also, we had a couple of interesting spectators last night. One I initially put in that Cap Hill Bingo category of "guy talking to no one as he stumbles by the field," but instead he was on a hands-free bluetooth phone call. His side of the conversation was audible to the catcher and myself and we agreed that this guy had some stories, probably invented but at least distorted in his telling. This youngish guy was complaining to whoever was on the other end of the call about how "Trump gave [his] ribbon to some asshole" at the State of the Union, that though he had the medal, the ribbon went to some undeserving shmuck who got feted for it on national TV. He went on about other things too, like how he was barred by a court from seeing his mom in the hospital and that's why he didn't have money to fly back to DC. He seemed quite the character.

The other spectator was a different type entirely (though it turned out he was also a veteran). He introduced himself as Alfred and was taking photos. He said he wanted to take the opportunity to get some experience shooting sports as that wasn't something he had in his portfolio. Nobody minded, so he hung around the sidelines with his camera and promised to share the pictures later. Nice guy.

In the first game, a fly ball carried to center field and the center fielder, Josh, drifted under it to make the catch, only he somehow missed it with his glove and instead took the ball right off his schnozz. He left the game bleeding. He stuck around in the dugout, though, and by the time that game was over and his team was heading out Josh was no longer losing blood and was in good humor. His team lost, too, which added insult to injury. Alas, but I'm sure he's fine now.

The second game ended abruptly on an ambitious infield play trying to nail a runner at second for a double play. The throw from third to second sailed a little bit and struck the second basewoman in the forehead and down she went. She was lucid and alert, but blood was pouring from the wound.

Enter Alfred.

Fortuitously, Alfred was an Army medic, so he offered his assistance—which we all gladly accepted, especially since my first aid kit was truly unhelpful in this situation. It was not a serious injury, just—as any head wound is—rather bloody, and when I got a look at the gash (peeking over Alfred's shoulder) I could see it wasn't particularly long, but it was deep. Though it would likely have healed fine if merely treated with a couple of butterfly bandages, Alfred nonetheless recommended stitches so it would heal faster, so the player and her fellow-player partner left for urgent care. We called the game at that point.

I'm grateful to have crossed paths with Sgt. Alfred the amateur photog and ex-Army medic on this occasion and look forward to seeing the pictures he took, though he made sure to note that he wouldn't send photos of the bloody injury to anyone but the player involved. [EDIT: Alfred sent me some of the pics, but just the ones with me in them (two posted below). Much more curious about the rest of them.]

Not sure "bloody injury" or "made use of Army medic" will make it onto the Cap Hill Softball Bingo Card anytime soon, but we can add them to the potpourri of incidents at that particular field. It's been quite the week.

 

 

Tagged Umping, Softball, Posted on March 24, 2026 at 3:19PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Am I getting too old for this?

Yesterday was a full day of umpiring for me, and as is usually the case when I have to get up before, say, 11:30am, I was going on short sleep and was maybe a little bit cranky. I was also creaky—for whatever reason, I got out of bed with a sore lower back, just feeling really stiff and achy for no discernable reason other than being well into my fifties. I found myself wishing that it had rained overnight so the field would be unplayable, but that was not this reality.

Even so, things started out fine. My first game featured a number of players who also play against me in my Wednesday night summer league with the Smiling Potatoes of Death; one of them was catching when a particularly errant pitch came in. My call was, "low, outside, flat, generally bad, ball one." This got a chuckle from the batter and this comment from the catcher: "You've been hanging out with [Spuds teammate] Mack too much." I disagree. Anyway, it was a crisply-played affair with good defense and no troubles; we burned through all seven innings in under an hour and even though I had said we'd do extra frames if needed, the home team pulled out a run in the last of the 7th to walk it off in regulation. So I had 30 minutes or so to wait around for the next teams to file in for the 1:30 game. If you're going to have a 58-minute game, I said to no one, can't we have it at the end of the shift instead of the beginning? Alas, no.

Generally speaking, the teams that play in this bracket of the league at Northacres park are all good folks, we all get on well and things are usually copacetic, but there's one guy that bucks the trend. He was there for game two. I ignored him best I could, especially since his teammates all were enthused to have me on the field for them and since we'd finished the prior game early a couple of their early arrivals had time to chat me up a bit. I like the rest of them a lot. But this guy is one of the few players I've ever ejected from a game, and when he's pitching he pushes all my buttons. Sometimes I think on purpose. I really, really dislike him. He tries trick pitches, he snorts and scoffs at my strike zone, he even shouts at me, as when he responded to my call of a low pitch with "LOW??!!" and I replied, incredulously, "yes, it hit the plate, so LOW." And his catcher jumped in to say that it did, in fact, hit the plate, so move along. It crossed my mind to wonder if he was trying to provoke me to throw him out again. Can't imagine why, but I don't grok the macho nonsense some of these guys live with in their little minds, so who knows. When the game was over, he tried to bullshit me about why he was challenging my calls, but I knew it was BS and he likely knew I knew it was BS and again I was befuddled and annoyed and just wanted him to go away. Which he eventually did, because I had to get the next game rolling with different teams, ones with no troublemakers on their rosters.

Aside from my back stiffening up even more, my stomach starting to rumble that breakfast was many hours past, and my feet demanding some downtime, the rest of the games were good, though I did screw up once: in an infield fly situation, a batter lined to the shortstop, who caught the ball—I immediately called "OUT!"—only for the shortstop to intentionally drop the ball in the next instant to turn a double and potential triple play, the entire reason the infield fly rule exists but for good or ill the rule exempts line drives. In the end I allowed the double play but awarded the batter first base safely as he had stopped running as soon as he heard me say "out." In retrospect I should have disallowed all of it, just said, "no, batter is out and everyone else back to your bases, because that was a dick move." And that I had already called the out, so play should have been over. But really I was too quick on the draw, it's my only bad habit (I think) as an ump. I need to learn to take a beat before making those calls just in case.

Then the real fun of the day. As the final game was in its late innings, someone came down to the backstop and asked me if I had a key to the gate. "Gate? What gate?"

It seems someone—the consensus was "probably kids. Meddlesome, troublemaking kids."—closed the gate-like barrier to the parking lot of the park and slapped a padlock on it.

Of course, I did not have a key, nor did anyone else, but I was still working the game, so while we finished up I called the league office and asked if they might call the parks department for us and get someone out to open it up. Game ended, I packed up, and no parks people. One of the players had called the police as well. No help there. Ultimately, one of the players who had parked outside of the gate drove to Home Depot and bought bolt cutters. She returned and I attempted to aid a few of the burlier players in cutting the lock off the gate. In the end, I was no help at all; it took some physics ingenuity and muscle from Brent, one of the late-game pitchers, with the aid of a metal tube that was lying around as part of the parking lot's security apparatus (which he covered one arm of the bolt cutters with to get more leverage), to snap the lock off. We and a smattering of non-softball people could all then leave with our cars and I arranged with the office to have the player reimbursed her outlay for the bolt cutters. The whole thing took an hour or so, by which time I was truly and thoroughly Done With All This for the day. When I got home I made one of my rare uses of the bathtub to soak my aching back before spending the rest of the evening reading a brain-candy Star Trek novel and trying semi-successfully to get to sleep early (for me).

Unfortunately I have to go back out there tonight. Cap Hill this time, so different kinds of wackiness is bound to ensue. My back still hurts some; better but not really better, if you know what I mean. At least it's only two games, and at least ichiban suki na senshu's team is on the docket.

Tagged Umping, Softball, Posted on March 23, 2026 at 3:51PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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