The man who would be king
verything got off on the wrong foot when Old Smitty showed up at the park to be my partner. "I’ll take the first plate!" he announced. And why not? After all, he’s the number one rated umpire in my association.
I kid you not, as they used to say in the 70s on Laugh-in. Old Smitty, for crying out loud!
Now, this part of my story doesn’t have anything to do with making you a better umpire. It has everything to do with making you a better politician. And that might get you some better games.
When I retired (for the second time) about 10 years ago, I left at the peak of my coach evaluations. I’d called plenty of play-off games in the previous five years. I was still working NCAA ball.
Actually, it was following one of those college double-headers that I decided to hang up my mask. The fact it was NCAA games had nothing to do it. The fact that my grandson was starting Bronco did.
But my grandson, though he threw right and batted left, deserted baseball for tennis. His father’s a tennis coach, and they’re both Red Sox fans — so I don’t know that I should have been suprised when Little Carl gravitated to the dark side of sports. (Small grin)
That led to my triumphant return after five years of struggling with staying away from The Game.
Continued...
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