Rain, blood, and laughs

Kind of a weird night on the softball diamond last night. I arrived way early, as the last time I had a shift at Capitol Hill on St. Patrick's Day parking was so impossible I didn't find a space for an hour and then had to pay at a commercial lot and beg the league to reimburse me for it. Wasn't going to let that happen again, so I factored in extra time. Of course, this year was different—it was rainy and cold, for one, but also it's a lot harder to be festive in 2026. So the crowds at bars were not what they were. Nevertheless, parking was worse than is typical and I had to park blocks away, but I still had gobs of time.

I spent some of the excess checking in with Marty on the phone and looking in on the WBC finale game, which was in progress (yay for Venezuela beating the jingoist Team USA, too bad it wasn't an 18-2 shellacking). Then we set to work. I had a good group for the first game, and as always I was greeted by name as I approached the field. (It is nice to be everyone's favorite.) The weather made things somewhat unpleasant, but the flip side at Cap Hill is that rain also keeps soccer hooligans away, or at least more subdued, and the only people I had to shoo away were some very accommodating LARPers who were content to stay in deepest left field.

Game one saw some lively back-and-forth both with runs across the plate and with words in the form of a lot of good-natured banter between players and me. It ended in what would have been an exciting 16-15 finish if not for some minor injury drama in the final frame that turned it into a more sedate 16-15 finish. Nothing really serious, a hard grounder to someone's ankle that required giving him some assistance to get off the field and undoubtedly left a nasty bruise. It also delayed things for a while, so when a player from the upcoming game three stopped by on her way to a pregame meal at a local bar and asked when I thought her game would really start—knowing as she does that Cap Hill schedules almost never stick to time—I told her "probably 9:45." This was as we were starting game two, with one team I like to draw and one I have mixed feelings about. We were moving along OK until the bottom of the second, when on a play at home plate the catcher took a one-hop throw from the outfield that glanced off the tip of her glove and into her face. She went down in a heap bleeding profusely from a split lip. Ultimately she left the game with her husband and teammate to go to urgent care for a couple of stitches, which left her team with just seven players—insufficient for a legal game. So that game ended right there in a forfeit, her team dispersed, and the other squad and I just hung around for a while as that team had a doubleheader and was awaiting their opponent for game three to show up. Only I had just told their representative that we'd probably start late.

Fortunately, another of that team wandered by on his way to the bar and we corralled him to explain the situation, hoping he would find his entire team at the bar and they would come back to the field sooner than later. Not to be, though. We had a good 45 minutes or an hour to kill. Some of them practiced on the field, I hung out with some of the rest in their dugout under a tarp talking about the WBC and other stuff. When we got going again it was less bantery and more okay-I'm-tired-of-being-in-all-this-rain, but still fun and saw the ultimate winners come back from being down 7 in the first to make a game of it and eventually pull ahead to victory, thanks in large part to some great play by their first-basewoman. As a fellow first baseman, I appreciated (and envied) the skills.

Then this morning I received a rather thoughtless text from the league regarding something trivial from last Sunday, when I had two games of four on the schedule (the prior two being handled by someone else, whom I am pretty sure did not get a similar text despite identical circumstances), which annoyed me and added to the growing pile of less-than-pleasant interactions I've had with the league office this year. I swear, if not for the players letting me know how they feel I'd have quit by now. And it's a good thing I haven't, because when I calm down and think it through I realize these interactions are all most probably because of poor communication within the office and get distorted when they get down to me. (To be clear, it's not that today's missive was particularly bad, it wasn't, and in isolation I'd think nothing of it; it's just that these things are cumulative and each time they erode my patience a little bit more.) We had different personnel there when I started this gig and there was a changing of the guard, as it were, a bit more than a year ago when it comes to field staff liaisoning. Have to keep all that in mind when this shit goes down.

At some point I need to update the Cap Hill Softball Bingo Card to include some new squares: Foul ball off the light pole, threats from misogynist spectators, and cop on a bullhorn to vagrant elsewhere in the park saying "Wake yo' ass up." The latter happened last night.

 

Tagged Umping, Softball, WBC, Posted on March 18, 2026 at 7:38PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Umpire Diary

I had two games to work last night and they both involved players I like to draw on my docket. You'd think, therefore, that it would have been a lot of fun and provide some tales for the blog.

You'd think, but not so much. Mostly because my little black hole episode referenced the other day is still hanging around. I'd managed to gain some altitude the day before, but apparently not a lot, because I got tired and dropped down a bit and was basically powering through last night. Which is a shame, because it was the first time I got to work a game with The Leftovers this year and I didn't make the most of it. Still, things went OK. I might not have been "all there," but it's still nice to see Neal and Cerissa and the gang.

Both games were blowouts, with the team playing a doubleheader scoring 38 runs in each while holding the opponents to the teens. Some of the players on the winning side were present on the night I got "policed" by the league, so there were questions, good-natured ribbings, further discussion of that incident; that likely didn't help my demeanor, but I still appreciated it. The players deserve to have an idea of what kind of business they're supporting, and I don't want to be opaque or, on the flip side, unreasonably critical or leave such impressions. Still, I prefer to just ignore that fiasco at this point.

One bit of administrative nuisance that came up was about our league's lineup rules, which require a minimum gender ratio be followed (no more than two men for each woman or non-binary player in the lineup or on the field). One group was lobbying for an exception to the rule and even though I like these people, and even though I have been known to, under extenuating circumstances, allow for a deviation from the edict, on principle I support the rule and want to enforce it. Doing so didn't win me any new friends, but in this area I don't mind being a hardass so long as the rest of the field staff are consistent with it. We're a coed league, we're not a men's league, and making allowances for teams that show up with a too-skewed ratio of men to women or vice-versa (though that's yet to happen) is counter-productive. When I was a team captain in this league I had to deal with it and deprive myself and one or more of my teammates from at-bats because one or more of the ladies didn't show up. It's annoying, but the rule exists for a reason and I agree with it.

The issue that gives me even a little pause is that apparently some of the other umps choose not to enforce the rule and therein lies potential chaos. There have been piddly rules I've chosen not to enforce now and then, just to avoid arguments on things that I consider inconsequential (generally these have been rules about a specific pitching distance or concerning the pitching rubber, the enforcement of which once resulted in an epic meltdown of a player who turned out to be on the autism spectrum, or the scope of the batters' box, which on dirt fields especially can be tricky due to lack of field maintenance) but every time such things come up I make it clear—the rulebook says this, but I'm choosing not to enforce it today because of X. Others will likely choose to enforce it, I may choose to under other circumstances next time, so never assume this to be standard. But if others are just ignoring things like the ratio rule (which maybe they believe to be inconsequential, though I'd disagree) and giving teams the impression that they have at least a 50/50 shot at ignoring it on a given day, then the teams may plan for it or at least not prepare for working within their limits. I just ask for consistency—keep the rule or change it, but don't leave players wondering what it'll be every time out.

I'm not recalling in great detail how well I handled that problem last night—the black hole made me a bit foggy and I remain so today—but it was enforced and there wasn't a lot of pushback, so it must have been OK.

I've got a couple more games on Sunday afternoon and then two more Monday night. Hopefully I'll be more clearheaded and in a higher orbit by then.

Tagged Umping, Softball, The Black Hole, Posted on February 13, 2026 at 9:11PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Umpire diary

Tonight was my first shift back on the field after Monday's very weird experience with bad management from the league. You know me, I was mildly obsessing about that encounter all week and was curious to confer with a fellow ump about it, so before taking over from the guy who had the early games today I mentioned it to gauge his reaction to being policed; we agreed it was weird, negative, and had to be based in some context we are not aware of.

The more I process it the more I think this is two people from the office not talking to each other very well resulting in either correctly-understood bad and counterproductive instruction or misunderstood intentions being relayed in an unintentionally misleading way. Knowing the personalities involved it could really be either one.

I have been and still am considering writing something to the office with detail that expresses just how petty and disrespectful this instruction turned out to be for both us the officials and for the messenger, but I'm also reluctant because even though I can see how such feedback would be useful and help to repair the alienation they've managed to create with staff, and how a couple of others would also see it, I don't think the person who really needs to hear it would accept it in the manner intended. I may try to bring it up with someone in particular next weekend at an event, we'll see. But I don't think I'll put it in writing as it might make things worse for the messenger, who is already being treated poorly. At least, it seems that way. Again, context would help, as this remains a big fat WTF? mystery.

Onward. My games tonight were rather unremarkable save for three calls that I may or may not have gotten wrong. Two I did not see, one was just super-close (tag play at third base). The ones I didn't see are just the way of things when there's only one ump and lots of possible plays on the diamond; I get set in position for what I think is the most likely play to be made and then the team goes and tries for a different play and I'm suddenly at a terrible angle to see it. The questionable calls went one against each side and I got some pushback on just one, from the losing team (the other team cut me slack for only having one set of eyes), who insisted that a runner not be allowed to score because she missed third base; I did not see her round the bag as I was watching other runners, but her team insisted she did tag it and really one run wasn't going to make a difference here. But the defensive player insisted that she couldn't have touched the bag because he'd been standing right on it.

"You sure you want to go with that argument?" I asked. He looked blankly, so I elaborated. "In that circumstance she'd be awarded home because you obstructed the basepath by standing on the base without possession of the ball." He threw up his hands and retreated to his dugout, unsatisfied. Oh, well.

It wasn't anything that festered beyond the moment and we moved on and all was well. A few of the players were also present for the game on Monday that had The Incident, and one of them made sure to greet me and say, "hey, I'm glad you didn't quit after whatever that was Monday."

Though the league may or may not respect and value me, the players do. For now, that's enough. I'll take it.

No BINGO again tonight.

 

Tagged Umping, Softball, Posted on February 1, 2026 at 10:53PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Umpire Diary

I'm a week into the Winter League with my umpiring gig. I thought I might start posting notes on the experience this year; we'll see if it remains interesting enough to continue as the year progresses. But for now, some bits and pieces...

• Firstly, unlike prior winter league seasons, it's not just me and basically two other guys vying for shifts. Everyone wants hours now, even though it's 39 degrees and wet out there. Hard to argue with that, everyone needs extra dough in the age of the Felon47 crash-and-burn economy. But it's disappointing to me because I'm getting two shifts a week, which translates to four or five games. I'd rather have three, or six or seven games; I could use that extra hundred bucks a week and I would get to see my favorite players more often.
• Speaking of favorites, last night I got to see some, including boku no ichiban suki na senshu, who generously provided me with hot cocoa and baked goods. She's awesome. (She also homered with a fly ball that hit the foul line and evaded the left fielder. Sugoi.) The evening prior I had another fave team, called Pitch, Please!, and razzed the Orioles fan wearing the Jim Palmer jersey for striking out and thus batting like a pitcher. Which, unfair, as Jim Palmer had 13 extra-base hits in his 19-year career, which is likely 13 more than any of us on the softball field could manage in the bigs. Anyway, great to see Megan, Joel, Wyatt, Ray, Aidan, Owen, Emma, "Oil Can" Boyd, and the rest of the gang from Sunday and Monday evenings.
• Last Wednesday night's action I don't remember much of, because that shift was dominated by my having to call paramedics to the scene. A gal playing third base took a line drive to the face. It was pretty scary (mostly for her, there was panic for a bit) and very bloody, as many facial lacerations can be. It was severe enough that the paramedics decided it was more than they could handle and they called a "real" ambulance and had her taken to Harborview. Fortunately, I rarely have to call for medical help; I think this was the fifth time(?) in however many years I've been doing this, and I would like for it to be the only time this year. Yesterday afternoon while at the league office I asked if we'd heard from anyone on her team as to her status and no one had followed up! Holy crap, someone dropped the ball there.
• Weird for winter league, I've already had three teams I didn't know, including two that were what we call "indy teams," people that sign up as individuals and are thrown together, many of whom haven't played much softball in their lives. Generally, these are fun groups because they signed up to be social rather than be competitive, and even if they play like they could only ever aspire to the relative success of the 1899 Cleveland Spiders, they have fun doing it. Winter league has historically been near-exclusively populated by the die-hards, the teams that sign up all the time and have been around for years, so it's strange to have so many newbies. I can't recall the last winter I had to give the Opening Day Speech more than once, but I've given it three times already.
• The day after my first shift I was seriously feeling my age, as my legs were ridiculously sore. Shows just how sedentary my "off-season" was. Get fitter, you lazy bum.
• Sunday was rainy and unpleasant, which for games at Capitol Hill is actually a good thing in the sense that few other people are using the park. So there was no BINGO! this week:
  

  

No new shifts until Sunday. Stupid economy making people want my hours. Alas.

Tagged Umping, Softball, Posted on January 13, 2026 at 6:13PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Softball finale

Slightly Washed Up, the Capitol Hill Sunday softball champs

Today was my final umpiring shift of 2025, and it was a pretty good one. Three games, so not too many, not too few. Teams I generally like to ump for. Good weather. Pretty nice evening to end the year's ump work on. Playoffs and the championship game, and yet nobody brought any extra machismo, which is unusual and very much appreciated.

It was at Bobby Morris Field on Capitol Hill, though. Good field, nice location in some ways, not so nice in others because of the inevitable interference from outside forces. You remember the Cap Hill Softball Bingo Card, right? Well, we had our hecklers, we had our drunk hecklers, we had our various sirens. Foul ball to a vehicle. People wandering onto the field mid-play. But a new one tonight was this: Thrash metal concert in the adjoining skate park.

I could do with never having one of those show up ever again. Two of three games with this noise for a soundtrack:

 

 

The recording doesn't do it justice because my phone-camera emphasizes sound it picks up nearest to the mic—usually a nice feature, but cross-purposes to this bit. Trust me, they were loud. Not PA-at-the-stadium loud, but still.

The three games were fun, especially given that the first one was an upset victory (though sad to see the Grounders bounced out early), the second was a dramatic come-from-behind squeaker win, and the third a blowout that everyone had a good time with despite the score. (When you lose by 20 it's good to reflect on the fact that you made it to the last game at all, right?)

The champs were a team known as Slightly Washed Up, living up to their name—if they were more than slightly gone they'd have lost, right? They're a fun bunch and even helped me pack up afterward, always something I remember for when I see them again.

One highlight was a player on the runner-up team that hit two of the longest home runs I've ever seen in a softball game. If you're familiar with Bobby Morris field, you know that there are two softball diamonds on opposing sides of the park; the first of this guy's homers cleared the backstop fence of the far diamond. Not straightaway, but near enough. The second was in a more traditional left-center trajectory but cleared the skate park and landed on the street by the apartment building. The pitcher that served up the first bomb, after her outfielder retrieved the ball and threw it back to her, did a classy thing and gave the ball to the hitter as a souvenir. (I mean, technically it wasn't hers to give, but still, if I'd thought of it instead I would have given it to him too, and since these were the last games of the year we had plenty to spare.)

I didn't eject anyone this year, though there were a few I maybe should have. There were a few truly bad days on the field with complainers and hotheads. But by and large it was a fun time and a good way to earn some scratch. And, of course, it's always good to be out at the park with people I enjoy being around.

So, as we bid adieu to 2025 umping, I say thank you to the players, especially: Megan C., Neal C., Amy B., Frankie E., Chuck H., Woalter G., Joel N., Wyatt C., Ray L.,  Pat W., Chase S., Connor K., Mal G., Gwen M., Alex Z. ("Mr. Atoz"), Rachaele M., Celena O., Emma C., Aidan S., Carrie A., Annabel T., Aaron K., Troy L., Brent P., Brandy B., "Blue Jean" Brandon B., Ed F., Robin D., Aaron Y., and a whole bunch of others I'm not recalling names for just now—oh, and Lewis, the Jasons, Cerissa and the rest of the Leftovers, Abe, other Meg, other Emma, Boyd, Tess, hell, even Kevin, who is sometimes a jerk. 

Not Marcus, though. If I never see that guy again it'll be too soon.

And shout-out to my fellow umps Laz and Ben, you guys have fans too. But just remember, I'm the favorite. :)

Tagged Softball, Umping, Posted on September 22, 2025 at 3:38AM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Trickle-down bitterness

The other night I had an umpiring shift that included something I'm not accustomed to these days—hostility directed at me from a player.

You'd think I'd have been in a better mindset to recognize/deal with such a thing; before the shift began, I and my fellow ump Laz, who was working the other field, had been comparing notes on difficult teams and conflict with players since Laz had some issues the previous day. But no, none of that stayed in my upper consciousness once I got going with the game, so when I had a close play at second base in the early innings and called the runner out, his irritated backtalk didn't really phase me and I just moved on. Then every subsequent time that player was involved in a play, offensively or defensively, he had something to say about me. Not directly to me, he had things to say to his fellows in the dugout—just making sure he was loud enough that I'd hear him.

After the third such remark I got it that he wasn't somehow trying to be funny, that he meant things literally, and it started to bug me; it also confused me, though, because I've gotten a little full of myself in this gig. I'm used to being everyone's favorite umpire. (Not everyone's, obviously; I mean, Laz has fans despite his newness to the league, which he should since he's good.)

Most players that have been around for a while know me by name and are glad to have me working their games. It's an unusual shift if no one asks me as they're getting ready to leave if I'll be doing their next games or not and if not asking me if I can't switch things around so I will. Once I was running behind schedule and texted Laz that I was going to be 10 minutes late or so to the park and would he please tell my teams to hang in there; Laz's reply was that they were "willing to wait without making trouble, but only because it's you coming." Banter even before I was there in person. Even in cases when a player argues with me about a call, most often after the game ends that player wants to make sure I knew it was just a heat of the moment reaction and s/he gets that it's a tough gig and close calls are part of the deal, no hard feelings. And if I blow a call and know it, I always own up to it even though most times it can't be undone; nine times out of ten, that goes over well and buys good will.

The guy the other night would have been the tenth out of ten had I actually got something wrong and knew it and said so. Makes me wonder what his life must be like elsewhere, can't be much fun.

Anyway, after that game was over I went up to this fellow and asked him what was up. "You've been badmouthing me the whole game, it can't just be from that close call at second, so let's have it. What's going on?" It was an attempt at conflict resolution, but either my tone was off or he just wasn't interested in coming to any understandings (maybe both). He then reminded me of the last time I had his team, about three or four weeks prior, when I also called him out on a close play at second base. Once he mentioned it, I recalled it was an almost identical play, including him sliding in and kicking up so much dust as to make the view of the tag questionable. He was still pissed off about that, had been holding a grudge about it. I told him that close plays were part of the game, they're bound to happen, and they always inevitably go against someone. He just doubled down on his hostility, offered me $100 to never umpire again, told me I sucked at it, and wanted me to know he was better than me in every way. OK, goodbye, then, conversation over. I turned away to get prepped for the next game and heard him continuing to badmouth me to others (but not as loudly this time). One of the players waiting for the next game, having heard some the exchange, came up to me and let me know that he and his team would have my back if necessary, which I appreciated but also dismissed—this guy wasn't looking for a physical fight and I wouldn't let him have one if he was. Too much machismo was the whole problem, after all, no need to add to it.

It's a nothing incident. A comment from another witness player reminded me of something else that happened after that game weeks ago that the hostile was holding a grudge from, when after the dustup someone asked me from the bleachers how often grown men yell at me about a rec-league game with no stakes at all. "More often than anyone would think appropriate," or something like that, was my reply.

Shit like that happens. Like Laz and I were saying before the shift, sometimes some people are asshats and the worst part of the gig is finding the line where competitive macho asshattery crosses into unacceptable abuse asshattery that ruins things for the rest of the participants and requires ejections or other means of reminding people who has authority.

Being me, of course, it took me a good hour or so to process the experience out of my head to the point that I was clearheaded for the rest of my shift. I always replay things in my head, puzzle over what I said, think of better things I could have said, wonder if my ego is so needy that this should bother me, then eventually just conclude that sometimes some people are asshats.

Fortunately, the rest of the night was filled entirely with players of good cheer and fun attitudes that didn't take things seriously even though their games were (a) a tight one that came down to the last batter of the game and (b) a lopsided trouncing that resulted in a 36-0 shutout.

Since then I've alternatively completely forgotten about this incident and pondered the why of sometimes some people are asshats. In this particular time in the world, I think people have shorter fuses, have more frayed nerves than ever, and are quicker to explode than what had been normal. Me included. There's so much threatening us on a daily basis from our alleged leaders that it's hard to remember we're supposed to be civilized. Or, for those on the other side, there's a new and intoxicating permission structure to lash out, to take responsibility for nothing, to make anything and everything into a grievance that personally offends and demands retribution.

It's like the GOP has finally found a scenario where the "trickle-down" theory works: Supply-side spite, anxiety, and antagonism.

Tagged Umping, Politics, Softball, Posted on August 20, 2025 at 8:00PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Attention Overload!

Wow, is there a lot going on right now. Big things, little things, consequential things, trivial things, nerd things, political things, sporty things, personal things, many combinations thereof.

Now, the personal things tend toward the nerdy and trivial. Don't want to get anyone's hopes up. But between the news, pop culture, and baseball/softball, my brain is jam-packed with musings.

Some, about the latest debasing of Major League Baseball by its own commissioner, were posted yesterday, so no need to rehash that except to just say once again—because there's never a bad time to say it—that Rob Manfred is horrible. But related to the All-Star Game are musings about the gathering I hosted here for it; I invited a bazillion people, but knowing it was for an event that has lost its luster and that started at 5:00pm on a weekday, I figured maybe seven or eight people might show. I overestimated by a few, but we had fun and I ate way too much junk food, including some oddly-made pizza from Spiro Not-Agnew's down the street and so-so store-bought guac. (Always worth it to make your own guac, dummy.) Thanks to Abe, the one person from my umping world to pop by for a while, and Mack and Erik for bringing some of the junk food. (Abe didn't know my dietary preferences, so I skipped his, but still thoughtful.)

That was Tuesday night. Last night was my softball team's final game of the year—we play a really short season, for better or worse—which was typical: We lost by a lot, only got to play a little over half a game because of the enforced mercy rule, and in my one at-bat I swung blind as the sunset was happening right behind the pitcher and tapped out 1-3 but still managed to tweak my ankle running to first. Kind of fitting, really.

Meanwhile, I went to see the new Superman film and enjoyed it. If you want a good rundown on it, I recommend Erik's review, I basically agree with everything he says there. I now want to see it a second time to better gauge my feeling abut it as it was somehow both really good and kind of a drag and I can't quite put my finger on why. It's very comic-booky, for lack of a better description, as opposed to the gritty/angsty Zach Snyder version of Superman or even the operatic Richard Donner Superman; in some ways, that's great, kind of my wheelhouse, there was a lot of funny stuff in it that required that sensibility. In other ways I thought it was maybe too fast-and-loose with conceptual reality with its "pocket universe" and off-hand inclusions of semi-intelligent "troll monkeys" (though that made for one of the biggest laughs) and an unexplained kaiju-like giant monster that was the least effective sequence for me. But on first viewing, I'd say Superman (2025) ranks below Superman (1978) and Superman Returns (2006) but way ahead of Man of Steel (2013).

Also, the long-awaited season three of Strange New Worlds premiered last night with two episodes. Both eps were good, neither was great, and there was plenty of good character stuff and smart dialogue to meet my high Trek standards.

Those all fall in the pop-culture/trivial/personal buckets. As for the big political world-affecting stuff, I find myself navigating a mix of outrage, hopefulness, hostility, schadenfreude, anxiety, callousness, and trepidation. Which is, let's face it, the new normal, but with new dimensions given the latest info:

• The MAGA civil war is fascinating as some of the cultists belatedly realize that their champion actually is a lying garbage person who gaslights them and thinks they're stupid. The fact that they see this only because they bought into a conspiracy theory he and they promulgated for years that he is now denying hasn't sunk in yet, but hey, baby steps.
• Today's publication of an article in the Wall Street Journal, of all places, that reinforces what most of us already knew—that Donald Trump and Jeffrey Epstein were two peas in a pod in their depravity and criminality—is outstanding, as it is causing the wannabe dictator and his minions to panic and dig themselves deeper into the hole they're in with the cultists. I've oft wondered what it would take to get the cult to turn on this subhuman stain when none of the prior atrocities seemed to make a dent, and it figures that the answer is apparently reneging on an implied promise to inflict cruelty on people they don't like.

• With all that creating chaos for the White House, official spokesmodel Karoline Leavitt told the press corps that our wannabe-dictator has health issues—which, again, duh—that she plays down as minor but actually might well prevent him from finishing his term of office.

  The demented occupant of the Oval Office has Chronic Venous Insufficiency, which in and of itself is not a big deal. Lots of senior citizens deal with it. But the patient in question is not "lots of senior citizens," he's an obese rage factory who doesn't believe in exercise and maintains a fast-food diet. And this has progressed enough to include Stage 5 or 6 elements, e.g. venous ulcers (evident from photos of POTUS47’s hand and the lie from his press secretary that he was bruised from aspirin and an overabundance of handshakes). Whether the hand wound is from the CVI directly, a complication of it, or from something else, it indicates something more serious than swollen ankles. Add to this the daily evidence of cognitive decline and one has to wonder if the CVI is severe enough to have hindered blood not just to the extremities but to the brain.

  What makes this especially hinky is that the White House—in the first term and in this one—never reveals anything about Dear Leader's health. They give bogus doctor notes from their very own Dr. Nick that say he's the healthiest person that ever lived. We got no information when he had COVID. We got no information after he was mildly wounded when someone took a shot at him last summer. They never reveal anything about his health, yet today Leavitt said he has CVI, probably the most innocuous explanation for the photo of his swollen ankles.

  It's probably true as far as the CVI goes, but what's not being said? Is he looking at heart failure? What about vascular dementia? Has he had a stroke? It sure fits the observable circumstantial evidence that long-standing CVI (pun not intended) correlated with lack of circulation to the brain begetting vascular dementia accounts for a lot of his nonsensical rants and wandering tangents and inappropriate dozing off. (Then again, this is the laziest, stupidest, most emotionally stunted public figure in the world, so all that crap might have nothing to do with his blood flow.)

  Might this health admission be the first step in a soft coup by the oligarchs that want JD Vance to be emperor? Might it be a first move in a fallback contingency should the Epstein mess actually catch up with him—he could resign for health reasons, get pardoned by Vance, and completely avoid any accountability for anything?

  And why am I conflicted about the prospect of PseudoPresident Convicted Felon dying of heart failure soon? Frankly, that's a better scenario than a pardon.

Oh, and CBS canceled Colbert because they need to not piss off the regime in order to get FCC approval on their corporate merger with SkyDance. That's just lovely. (Skip the below video to about the two minute mark for more context.)

 

Tagged Politics, Movies, Star Trek, President VonClownstick, Baseball, Softball, Posted on July 17, 2025 at 9:02PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Bring us the finest muffins and bagels in all the land

My softball team, the Smiling Potatoes of Death, is old. Yes, the team in one form or another has existed for a very long time—one or two of my teammates were on the team in the 1980s, if I'm not mistaken—but what I mean is, our current roster skews "mature." I'd guess our average age is around 52 or so (with outliers at either end of the spectrum), while the rest of the league is generally around 30ish.

Thus, we routinely get pasted.

Our first game this season was a 21-3 loss, which was fairly typical. Our league sadly has a mandatory mercy rule, meaning that if you're behind by 15 runs after, I think, four innings, the game ends, so we usually feel pretty good if we get to play five-plus frames. Last week we lost 12-0, but since we got a full seven innings for the first time in god knows how long it felt like an achievement.

Yesterday, though, the Spuddies actually were smiling when we left the field, because we won a game. It's the third time in the 7-8(?) years I've been with the team that we've been victorious. It's almost like a genuine bigfoot sighting in its rarity.

True, we were playing against a team on the lower end of the talent meter in Bat's Amoré, but a win is a win, especially when you're the league's analogue to the last few years' editions of the Colorado Rockies. More than one of my teammates claimed they would be celebrating the event—and using it as an excuse to slack off on other things—for at least a month.

The world sucks right now. We're contending with an attempted fascist takeover of our Federal government, U.S. Senators are being assaulted and handcuffed by security staff working for a cabinet secretary, our legislature is debating how cruel they want to be in robbing and endangering the public in order to give billionaires more money and build up secret police forces (and that's just today).

So we'll take our joy where we can find it.

Tagged Softball, Posted on June 12, 2025 at 4:33PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Sunday activity

Yesterday saw POTUS47 commit yet another impeachable offense by illegally deploying the National Guard to put down a protest and incite violence in Los Angeles. That's just par for the course in 2025, though, so it might not have made your particular newsfeed. But it happened. Since it happened 2,000 miles away form me, though, and this sort of thing doesn't move the media needle anymore, I wasn't aware of it because I was otherwise occupied on the ballfield.

We're having record-breaking heat here, so it was a taxing day for me. Fortunately, I am well-liked by the teams I umpire for (mostly), so I was kept well-hydrated when I ran out of my own water and gatorade by players tossing me bottles from their own coolers. I got through my games without any real difficulties. (The one time there was a problem no one complained; a batter hit a popup with runners aboard that was deeper than the infield dirt and not immediately near a defender, so I didn't call the infield fly rule; I should have, though, because the defending shortstop had proven himself to be quite good and in fact he did get under the pop and let it fall, proceeding to attempt a double-play. So I did the unusual thing and called the rule after-the-fact, owning my mistake and placing one of the runners back on base. Everyone was cool with it.)

The final game involved The Leftovers, who as readers know are among my favorites, and though they lost in a squeaker, 10-9, they always make a game more fun for me to work and this time they even invited me out to the bar with them after the game. So I joined them for a short while and shared tales from the umpiring side while they told of their experiences with other umps and other teams. We talked about the Mariners latest slide in the standings, our respective elderly parents, and how I am frankly so much older than all the other umpires in the league yet also the most active on the field.

It was a nice time, and when I returned home the heat of the day had caught up with me and I developed a gargantuan headache that was probably building all through the afternoon under the direct sun and I took some ibuprofen and read until I finally conked out. 

Tonight I have a briefer shift, tomorrow a standard three-gamer, Wednesday I'm playing, Thursday back for three, and Friday for two before a killer 8-hour day on Sunday. Here's hoping I can stave off the heatstroke.

Tagged Politics, President VonClownstick, Softball, Umping, Posted on June 9, 2025 at 5:06PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Spikeball sucks the fun out of everything

After being out sick for must of my scheduled umpiring last week and working sick for the rest, the other night I was back on the field in the Capitol Hill neighborhood for what turned out to be an exceptionally good shift of games. Now, was it really so much better than my average umpire shift is? Perhaps not; I may have just felt that way because the previous time I was out there I was getting by with the aid of cold meds and barely able to stand up by the time the shift was over. Regardless, I had a good time out there and I daresay the players all did too.

But anytime I'm umping at Cap Hill, there are problems. This time, thankfully, it wasn't the soccer hooligans; the soccer guys actually volunteered to move out of the way ahead of my asking them to, a first and possibly a unique event in the annals of time for all of history. No, this week's Cap Hill shenanigans centered around two groups of people: the completely wasted tribe of eight or ten folks in deep left field that didn't even react when they were hit with a fly ball and some of whom were riding this giant spool like they were in a log roll or something and not caring when the giant spool became an interference object for would-be extra-base hits; and the perpetrators of a half-dozen or so games of spikeball being played in deep right field.

I don't understand spikeball, I had to even ask what it was called, but I do know that even though spikeball players think they're only using a small confined space, that changes every time their ball bounces off their little trampoline into our field of play. Which, it turns out, is pretty often. So there were a lot of instances of me halting a pitcher in mid-motion, calling time out between pitches, that sort of thing, when an errant ball and/or a person chasing it got in the way.

As I said, this was otherwise a really good evening out there, the prime reason for which was all the players were in great moods and were jovial and laughing and having a good time among their own teams and bantering with their opponents, just a fun tenor that usually is ... more subdued, I guess?  Anyway, one of these banterings was in progress when I had to call time out again, and the catcher—one of my favorite players in the league, I always enjoy when she catches—said unprompted, "Spikeball sucks the fun out of everything."

It was just a throwaway line, said in jest but kind of a ha-ha-then-we-move-on comment, but for some reason in the moment it just ticked us. The line itself became kind of fun, thus rendering it its own oxymoron, but we had plenty of opportunity to repeat it as the night wore on.

I'm next on the field on Sunday at Green Lake, which I'm not looking forward to as much because it's a five-gamer. Those are only fun for, say, three-and-a-half games, then they're in the category of can-this-be-over-now-no-there's-more-oh-crap.

 

Tagged Umping, Softball, Posted on April 24, 2025 at 11:35PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Life problems on the micro and macro scales

I spent much of the past week feeling sick. I mean that in a literal, there-were-germs-and-a-rhinovirus-involved kind of sick, not in a I'm-nauseated-by-our-fascist-convicted-felon-president kind of sick, although that type is ever-present these days.

This may or may not have something to do with my umpiring 6½ hours in steady rain a week ago Sunday. Can't say, really. But it was the sort of thing that is mostly annoying, saps your energy and fills your head with copious amounts of mucus. Not that big a deal, though it did force me to bail on more than a couple hundred dollars' worth of ump shifts over the weekend. I was listed as day-to-day, as it were, on the ump's injured list, but I thought I was OK to go last night so I reported to the field for three games at Capitol Hill.

Probably not a good idea. I mean, I got through it and wasn't any worse for wear, but I was seriously off my game. A congested, foggy-headed, cold-medicine-addled, slow-witted umpire is not exactly the ideal circumstance. It was a playoff night, too, so everyone except me was extra-amped up, and all three games were close, I couldn't even just coast through a blowout.

One team, the oh-so-cleverly named Sons of Pitches, was quite pissed with me after their game, as three bang-bang calls went against them, including one that ended the game. Not only were some of them yelling at me directly, but I overheard their captain and others badmouthing me in the dugout, and you know, (a) I had zero patience for any of that last night, but (b) they might well have a real beef, because aside from the last one (which I have no doubts about) I have no idea if those close calls were correct or not. Honestly, I didn't even see one of them, I was out of position and looking into the setting sun. Usually, if I blow a call or am even unsure of it, I'll own it on the spot. I'll even ask players what their view was. Nine times out of ten there's no going back on it, but I feel like it's better for everyone if we just say, "yup, that was a brain fart, let's do better" and move on. But I wasn't having any of that yesterday, all I wanted to do was get through the damn shift. SoPs was the only one of the six teams I had last night that didn't know me very well; I'd done maybe two games with them before, whereas everyone else has been around for years and I'm on a first-name basis with half of each squad and they all cut me a little slack. Oh well, I can live with not being one team's favorite umpire.

The other two games were without any acrimony, but they dragged on and I was completely gassed by the time we finally wrapped up about 25 minutes behind schedule. Fortunately, when I got home my neighbor Sean offered me a late-night homemade mac-and-cheese dinner that I didn't have to prepare myself, which lifted my spirits a bit. Thanks, Sean!

I'd have been better off trying to negotiate a trade of last night for tonight or tomorrow's shift, but as we say on Earth, c'est la vie.

 

Meanwhile, in the greater world, POTUS47 and the White House staff are now lying through their teeth about Supreme Court rulings while defying judges and going full-on fascist and yet Republicans in Congress remain silent feckless toadies when they could end this nightmare right now.

Nazi Stephen Miller, who if you can believe it is the White House Deputy Chief of Staff for Policy—he's the Josh Lyman of this group of totalitarian fuckers—was both caught on mic in the Oval Office and deliberately went on television to say the the Supreme Court's 9-0 ruling affirming a lower court's order that the administration must facilitate and effectuate the return of the mistakenly-deported Maryland man, Kilmar Abrego Garcia, from the El Salvadoran gulag DHS and ICE abducted him to, was actually a 9-0 ruling that no judge can tell the administration to do anything about Mr. Abrego Garcia. Pure fiction, 180 degrees—well, thanks to John Roberts and his predilection for obfuscation, say 170 degrees—from the truth, and for good measure also claimed that when several officials admitted that Abrego Garcia was deported by mistake that those officials were the ones in error and Abrego Garcia was picked up intentionally! If anything, that would make this whole matter even worse, as Abrego Garcia had a prior court order in good standing specifying he could not be sent to El Salvador as that was the country he was seeking asylum from, meaning if we take Miller at his word (as if) then the administration is willfully defying a wholly different court order in addition to the one he is lying about the contents of.

It irks me greatly that this malevolent speck of a man, this evil creature, has the same name as one of my friends from high school, but what can you do. The guy's name is the least of his problems.

The regime has made it clear yesterday and today that it has no intention of complying with the court's order to retrieve Mr. Abrego Garcia and even intends to widen the net of DHS abductions, with President Convicted Felon telling the El Salvadoran dictator that he needs to build more gulags for all the "criminals" he intends to send there.

The entire White House communications apparatus—or, perhaps more appropriately, the propaganda division—has been twisting the words that Roberts added into the Court's ruling away from their obvious meaning and into a pretzel that claims they mean something completely different. "Facilitate" simply means, according to the White House, an update to immigration status. Roberts included other language—"The intended scope of the term 'effectuate' in the District Court’s order is, however, unclear, and may exceed the District Court’s authority. The District Court should clarify its directive, with due regard for the deference owed to the Executive Branch in the conduct of foreign affairs"—that has been seized upon by Miller and the rest of the White House fascist regime to mean whatever they want it to mean, that "deference" is functionally the same as "absolute deference" and that "may exceed" is the same as "massive overreach," not to mention that the word "effectuate" is not at all in need of clarification. What John Roberts did there is find a way that he could throw the regime a bone while still not completely blowing up his credibility as an adherent to the Constitution.

Justice Sonia Sotomayor felt the need to append Roberts' order with her own statement that lays out the egregiousness of this case. Her statement reads, in part:

The Government’s argument, moreover, implies that it could deport and incarcerate any person, including U.S. citizens, without legal consequence, so long as it does so before a court can intervene.... Because every factor governing requests for equitable relief manifestly weighs against the Government, I would have declined to intervene in this litigation and denied the application in full. Nevertheless, I agree with the Court’s order that the proper remedy is to provide Abrego Garcia with all the process to which he would have been entitled had he not been unlawfully removed to El Salvador. That means the Government must comply with its obligation to provide Abrego Garcia with “due process of law,” including notice and an opportunity to be heard, in any future proceedings. It must also comply with its obligations under the Convention Against Torture. ... In the proceedings on remand, the District Court should continue to ensure that the Government lives up to its obligations to follow the law.

It's that first line that should make every Congressperson call for immediate impeachment of POTUS47 right this second. "The Government’s argument, moreover, implies that it could deport and incarcerate any person, including U.S. citizens, without legal consequence, so long as it does so before a court can intervene." The White House's statements and inactions since this ruling make clear that it is no mere implication, that is precisely what this regime wants to do.

Tagged Softball, Umping, Politics, President VonClownstick, Posted on April 15, 2025 at 6:04PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Odds and ends

Cory Booker, giving his party a 25-hour kick in the ass

Just a post to catch up on a few disparate things over the past week or two. I'm a bit scatterbrained, have been for a few days, and am having some trouble keeping a train of thought going long enough for a coherent topic-focused post. Usually this sort of foggy-brain stuff is an indication of a Black Hole episode looming or in progress, but by 2025 standards—read: in the midst of existential dread from the fascist takeover of the government—it's been relatively OK of late. Still, being aware of this is sometimes half the battle, so I'm on my guard.

Anyway, onward with a hodgepodge of stuff:

• Hats off to Cory Booker. His marathon speech, disrupting the usual business of the Senate for over 25 hours, was something all prior filibuster-like holding-the-floor events were not: completely substantive. And while holding the floor for 25 hours plus—on his feet, no breaks, no food, talking continuously except for brief periods colleagues asked questions—was undeniably difficult, coming up with 25 hours' worth of substantive material to speak on was not, because this speech was about the abuses and corruption and illegality and treachery of the POTUS47 regime. There was no recitation of "Green Eggs and Ham" (Ted Cruz) or apple pie recipes (the fictional Howard Stackhouse) or aloud readings of Alexis de Tocqueville (Strom Thurmond). No need, the litany of POTUS47 crimes and destruction could fill twice that time or more.

  Naysayers have downplayed Booker's speech as meaningless, wholly performative, and a "stunt," but they're wrong. I mean, yes, it was a stunt, but stunts are cool, that's why we have action movies. In this case, the stunt was meaningful and the performance purposeful—it served to galvanize Booker's Democratic colleagues into actually doing shit.

  It's been just over ten weeks since President Convicted Felon took office again, which to be fair, is usually about how long DC pols take to move on anything, but in this case we all knew before those ten weeks even began that a clusterfuck was coming and staunch opposition was required. Thus, for ten weeks plus, we the greater public have been pleading for Congress to act and instead the Republican majority of both houses chose to abdicate their authority and suck up to the fascists while the Democratic leadership, while outraged, did very little.

  That's changing now. Is that all thanks to Booker's stunt? No, not entirely, but Booker has spurred his fellow Dems on by commanding attention. The reaction to Booker, added to the increasing action in the streets with the Tesla Takedown protests and the large turnout in special elections, has seemingly done more than all the letters constituents have sent to their representatives put together in prompting action. Adam Schiff and Ruben Gallego have declared they'll be throwing as much sand in the gears as they can to block destructive nominees to the Justice department and Veterans Administration. Schiff and Jamie Raskin are convening "shadow hearings"—with Republicans in the majority, these aren't official Congressional hearings that come with subpoena power, but they'll still serve to get information and put it on the record and in front of the public—regarding the decimation of the Justice Department.

  It's not impeachment, but it's a start.

• I sure am glad I converted all my meager investments in the stock market to a simple money market account last month, because look what happened today. Again, this was predictable. In fact, it was predicted. Repeatedly. All through the 2024 election campaign. But the American voter is, in the aggregate, willfully ignorant and so here we are.

  It is truly astonishing that the Republican party is not only allowing this to happen but championing it. This is the party that supposedly supports free markets and free enterprise and yet here they are taking a blowtorch to the global economy. Why? Because their leader is an imbecile that does not know and cannot be bothered to learn that a tariff is not what he thinks it is, that "trade deficit" is a term of art and not actual debt, that recklessly pissing off every nation in the world except Russia and North Korea is not a sign of strength, that making it impossible to import raw materials does not in fact help American manufacturing, and that driving inflation through the roof is actually a political loser. And they support their leader no matter how stupid and destructive and treasonous he is.

  Here's how our old friend Craig Calcaterra put it using clearer phrasing than I did: "Trump did this because he's a big stupid fucking idiot who doesn't know anything and because he has surrounded himself with cowards and idiots who are afraid to tell him anything he doesn't want to hear and who refuse to exercise their considerable power to rein him in."

• Yet, the economic catastrophe isn't the worst thing in the news. It's not even close. Jockeying for the top spot in the ranks of Worst Thing Happening Right Now is the actions of Immigration and Customs Enforcement. ICE has always been a problematic agency, but now, under this regime, it is essentially the Gestapo. Not a joke, as our former president (the good and decent one of just three months ago) might say. ICE, sometimes identified as such and sometimes not, is kidnapping people off the street and sometimes interning them at for-profit domestic detention hellholes and sometimes rendering them to a Salvadoran hellhole, all with no due process whatsoever (or, as of today, interrupted due process). This is being done under the pretense of an "invasion" of the U.S. by a Venezuelan gang and the separate pretense of removing anti-Semitic troublemakers.

  Via Mary Trump, at least six people rendered to the El Salvador gulag have been definitively identified as having no ties to any gang, Venezuelan or otherwise, and that doesn't count the Maryland resident that ICE admits it sent to El Salvador due to "an administrative error" but has no intention of bringing back. It's not just brown people with tattoos or hijabs being swept up, either. This chaos even puts Canadians at risk of abuse and disappearance.

  This cannot stand. President Convicted Felon's American Gestapo must be stopped, and god bless the courts for doing their job in trying to right these wrongs, but without support from Congress I fear that isn't going to matter.

• Let's move on from the disasters sweeping the nation and by extension the world and talk baseball.

  Despite opening the season against the better-than-you-think-but-still-not-very-good formerly-Oakland A's, Your Seattle Mariners are just 3-4 after a week of play. Sadly, their performance thus far, even in the wins, resembles early 2024 far more than it does late 2024—good starting pitching, but anemic hitting and a whole lot of striking out. On the other hand, the sac fly rate is already double what it was under Scott Servais last year, so there's that. Anyway, early days, one week is hardly an adequate sample size to draw any conclusions from. I mean, the Padres are 7-0 and I figure they're going to end up around .500; Atlanta is 0-7 and they'll be in the thick of things.

  Some observations: The M's now have an ad on their sleeves, which sucks but isn't a surprise. Aesthetically it looks worse than the ads on some other teams' sleeves because it's bright orange. Come on, you couldn't get [video game company] to agree to use a navy or silver background, it has to be orange? On the other hand, the terrible uniforms from last year are history and the jerseys are much more professional looking again, with actual silver instead of dull gray and more standard lettering on the nameplates and heavy enough that you can't see what's being worn underneath.

• Softball has continued for me as an umpire and is approaching as a player, with my Smiling Potatoes of Death team readying to start a season next month. This is in two different leagues, obviously, and there are loads of differences between them. I much prefer the rules and setup of the league I ump for to the one I play in, I can't think of a single thing the latter does better than the former. I got drafted into a co-captain role with the Spuds this year, so I was on the conference call with the league and other team reps earlier this week talking about rules and such, and I was disappointed to learn that a lot of what I don't like is mandated by the organization the parks department contracts with so there's not much room for variation: it's mandatory to start with a 1-1 count, it's mandatory to have that stupid-ass no plays at the plate rule. Where there was argument over things we do have a say in was in roster and lineup construction, something again my umpiring league does much better than the other one, but at least there's small positive change there—we'll no longer have the alternating one-lineup-for-men, one-lineup-for-women thing in the city league, which wasn't exactly smooth.

  This week's ump shifts didn't provide much in the way of good stories to tell, I'd say six of the eight games I did were pretty standard. Though Sunday was a five-gamer, and those are brutal. By the time the fourth game is going I'm ready for it all to be over with and I've got no patience left for any tomfoolery. Fortunately, the fifth game was drama-free and ended early. Still, I had to do three more the next night and I wasn't in the mood for it. Plus, the first game on that schedule was between teams that have a history of, let's call it antagonism, so I was going in thinking more about how to deal with potential trouble than keeping my head in the game itself and it showed. There was some trouble to deal with, but it was minimal and came rather late; before that I was off my game a bit but really only made one mistake (prematurely calling a foul pop out of play that turned out not to be, and sadly when one of the few people on that team that annoys me sometimes was up so I got lip from him about it and a later call that properly went against him). Still, it wasn't fun and I was glad when that game ended and those teams—whom I usually quite enjoy when they aren't playing each other—got the hell off the field. Fortunately, the night ended with a palate cleanser game played by people with mostly excellent attitudes and good cheer.

  One thing about that Monday night, though—if I'd had a Capitol Hill Softball bingo card it would have been pretty full. Lots of, let's say, environmental color. I'm there again on Sunday, we'll see if I can get a bingo then.

Tagged Politics, President VonClownstick, Softball, Umping, Baseball, Seattle Mariners, Posted on April 3, 2025 at 6:49PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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