Which is More Dangerous, Umpiring Little League Games or Teaching at the Bristol Jail?

People sometimes ask me if my teaching at the Bristol Jail ever got dangerous.

I tell them not nearly as dangerous as umpiring behind home plate in a Little League game.

I coached and umpired Little League games in Bristol VA for eight years. I was made to feel extremely welcome as a coach, primarily I suppose because of my teaching so many children of the exact age that played in Bristol VA Little League.

I was asked to umpire games when I was not coaching. One fellow coach (who was also the parent of a child I taught) told me, “Mr. Talley, you’ll be a great umpire. All the parents respect you. You won’t have any trouble from anyone at all back there behind the plate.”

Well, not only did I have trouble, I sometimes caught more verbal flack than the average ump. Perhaps it was because I knew so many parents of the players and they felt more comfortable in “letting go” with me.

During my very first game behind home plate, the mother of one child I had taught began to holler out things from the stands … things like, “Mr. Talley, it’s a good thing you can teach, ‘cause you’re a terrible ump!”

At my next game umpiring home plate, she began to ride me again. To her credit, she’d often end her ranting and raving vocalizations with, “But we still love you, Mr. Talley!”

(I found that most people who yell derogatory things at umpires during Little League ballgames rarely know a hill of beans about the sport themselves. I can assure you that this dear lady ranked high in such a category. She did well to properly differentiate a baseball from a football.)

So the teacher in me got an idea. I asked a friend to secretly video this particular lady while she was in the midst of one of her verbal assaults toward the home plate umpire (yours truly).

I then mailed the video to this lady, along with a note asking that she sit down and watch it with her children. I added in the note that I knew she was a good person, and that all good people (including me) were allowed to make mistakes now and then.

The next game that I umpired behind home plate, she came down and leaned against the fence … directly behind home plate. There she stood, ready to hoot and holler, which she continued to do . . . with all the more unabated gusto than ever.

But this time her well-endowed vocal cords expounded forth different words. “Come on, boys, tonight’s a great night! We got a good man behind the plate. He’ll call everything as fair as he can! We love you, Mr. Talley!”

Then I heard her mumble from up against the fence behind me, just barely loud enough so that only I could hear … “Even if he can’t see a lick.”

I turned to look at her. She whispered a very sincere “Thank you” through the fence.

We both grinned ear to ear.

No, not every heckler listens to common sense. But there is apparently something strongly convincing about seeing exactly how one appears to others on a video highlighting one’s questionable behavior captured in real life action.

Another thing I did a time or two, whenever someone heckled this umpire loudly and incessantly from the stands, was to stop the game, take off my mask, go out to the stands, and promptly hand the mask to the verbal perpetrator. Then I’d say something like, “Sir, why don’t you put this on and take my place right now?” (Yes, with a smile. Always with a smile. My dad taught me long ago that you can say almost anything with a genuine smile and people will take it a lot better.)

But that took too long. And if I did it for every fan who yelled derogatory insults toward umpires, I’d be going to the stands all day.

I found out that Little League umpires take a lot of heat. And I do mean “a lot”. It takes a thick skin to do the job.

(I should add here that my friend, Fred Bowman, who was involved with Bristol Little League for 50 years, told me to just hang in there and become immune to whatever anybody yelled from the stands. I strived to heed his advice, but I was just not thick-skinned enough to shrug it off every time. Words can hurt.)

The teacher in me eventually came up with another great idea.

Whenever umpiring behind the plate, I began to call both teams out of the dugout before the game and tell them, “I am going to miss some calls during this game. I just wanted you to know ahead of time, so you won’t be surprised.

Sometimes a kid would ask, “Why?”

To which I replied with something like, “Because I’m human. And part of being human is making mistakes. That’s what makes a real umpire better than a robot. Because we’re not as good, you never know when a mistake is coming. It keeps the game a lot more exciting.”

Sometimes a really bright kid with his thinking cap on would retort, “But the game’s not fair, if you make mistakes.”

Boy, did I have a good comeback for that line.

I’d bend over, look them straight in the eye and reply, “Little man, whoever in this world told you that life was going to be fair?”

Yet another thing I did as an umpire, especially during my first few games, was to ask the catcher if a pitch thrown low was a strike. (I found that low pitches were the hardest to call.) So if I had taught the catcher and knew him to be an honest soul, and I was in doubt about a pitch thrown low, I would sometimes just ask the catcher what he thought it was.

The father of a player I had taught caught me doing this and became infuriated. He said, “You can’t ask another player to umpire. If you can’t see a low ball, then you don’t need to be back there behind the plate.”

To which I replied, “Watch a group of kids play sandlot baseball on their own sometime, without a single adult anywhere around. They do a remarkable job of calling their own games honestly. We need to reinforce such honesty when we can.”

Over time, I came to the somewhat regrettable conclusion that ranting and raving at umpires was just part of baseball Americana. I would bet all my days left on the planet that some fans would scream and yell if Jesus Christ donned an umpire mask and called a game behind home plate.

If you ever attend a Little League game (or any youth sports event under the sun) my friends, please be patient with the officials, even when they make bad calls (which they will do … because they are human).

Remember that others are being greatly influenced by your behavior.

Little ears are listening to every word you say.

Little eyes are watching every move you make.