On the bases

y mechanics were perfect, but the coach still wanted to put me into the outhouse and nail the door shut.

Early in the game, one of his faster runners beat out a throw to first. But Sir Speedy did not touch the bag as he rocketed past. If only the first baseman had caught the throw from deep short. It was a back-handed catch, and the throw really didn’t have a chance of beating the runner anyway.

I stood there with my teeth in my mouth, calmly signaling "Safe." A coach in the first-base dugout, who was equally as observant and composed, told the first baseman to appeal that the runner missed the base. He did. And then I did. I mean, I called out the runner.

Yessir, the roof fell in!

"How can you call him safe and then call him out?" "Didn’t you see what happened?" "Don’t guess at what happened?" "Which call is the correct call?" "Were you really born at night? Or was it last night?" As you might expect, this offensive coach was almost offensive.

But I was correct in my mechanics and my call! I know it, you know it, the gods of baseball know it!

Continued...