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.