The Umpire Who Cared

Originally written on May 12, 1999


It's softball season, and once again, a familiar pair of long braids appears on the field. They don't belong to a girl named Kristen or Megan or Shaqwayla or Kayla. They don't poke out of a cap worn by any of the girls in this league of nine-to-twelve year-olds. No. These braids belong to Betty, the time-honored, beloved umpire who has coached and umpired two generations of young adolescent girls through their softball years.

It's 6:15 in the evening. The day's intermittent drizzle irritates but does not seem to threaten plans for this 6:30 game. Maroon-clad EDDF players take the field. The opposing black-shirted Conservation Club batters chatter from the bench in their cement shelter. Betty begins the game, and as the first inning plods along through young and variously skilled batters, the drizzle intensifies. Some parents huddle under the snack stand's skimpy overhang; a few tough it out on the bleachers, hoping the downpour will slacken, while others pop their umbrellas up.

Unfazed by the rain, Betty continues doing what Betty does well. Keeping meticulous and explicit count, she uses her left and right hand to display her called balls and strikes. She crouches higher and lower fluidly in response to the wildly varied heights of these young athletes. No complaint is ever heard about a call. None are heard about playing in the rain either, implying a concentration of trust in Betty's ability to know when enough is enough. Her continuing the game is vindicated; the downpour stops and the clouds break. The game proceeds through sluggers and rusty gates and erratic baserunning. Betty reaches into the bulging blue pouch strapped to her gray trousers as if to check the supply of balls. Suddenly she espies a stray ball in right field and holds up her hands to halt the game; it waits for the fielder to toss the ball in. Then she signals for play to resume.

Like most umpires, Betty performs her duty with quiet, business-like, blue-and-gray authority. She is distinguished, however, by flourishes that are part parent, part teacher, part mentor. Over and over, she uses her authority to add meaning and learning to this softball experience. One batter takes a stance too far from the plate; Betty stands behind the girl, places her grip over the girl's, and nudges the batter forward. She is speaking quietly to the player, probably delivering a verbal message that matches the kinesthetic one. "Save the lessons for nice weather," one soggy parent grumbles. Overwhelmingly, however, public opinion expresses an appreciation for Betty's efforts that legislates against this parent's complaint.

In this league, stealing bases will be allowed this year. A runner takes the initiative and charges toward home plate. Assessing the batter's oblivion toward this development, Betty lifts the batter up and deposits her on the ground beside the baseline just as the runner stampedes across the plate. Partisan cheers greet the runner's score-boosting maneuver while Betty speaks calmly to the batter, points toward third base, and then points down to the area around the plate and base path. The batter steps forward and takes her stance, and the game goes on.

The contest remains tight. Caroline walks her first time up, strikes out on the second at-bat, then finally gets to third on an overthrown ball that she'd hit right to the pitcher's mound. A quick runner, she steals home amid a fanfare of cheering from the Con Club side. This proves to be a pivotal moment in this see-sawing game, a moment that will help the Con Club pull ahead this inning even though it will eventually lose the game by one run. Jenna is catching for the Con Club. Despite her facile motions and quick throws, she exemplifies the need for all players to keep learning. Betty calls a time out. She bends over Jenna's feet and ties her right shoe. During a subsequent inning, she stops a batter on her way to the batter's box, straightening the helmet on the batter's head. A fresh observer may wonder why Betty does these little deeds instead of commanding the players to do them, but the answer can be found in the gently delivered words that tell the players why she is making these adjustments. "For your safety, always make sure your helmet is on right," one could imagine Betty saying.

It is not just batters who glean lessons from the umpire; it is fielders too. Betty will stop the game and leave her position behind the catcher to guide the third base fielder through a lesson in fielding grounders. Hardly anyone protests these time-consuming moments, not even the coaches, who have been exhorting better fielding since practices began six weeks previously. Betty never raises her voice. She appears immune to the heartbreak of parents whose daughters throw a wild pitch or overthrow a base or swing too late or suicidally try to steal a base without the green light from a base coach.

Betty's lessons are clear, quick, and kind. Some families, like the Mackowiaks, have brought four daughters through these lessons. It is taken for granted that there will be lessons. That is only part of the story of how Betty has garnered so much community respect, however. The other piece of the puzzle, the piece that locals take for granted but love to talk about, is Betty's record- setting appearance in the national youth sports arena. She was the first woman to serve as an umpire in the Little League World Series. Perhaps that accomplishment more than anything is the impetus that makes Betty's lessons welcome when they could be irksome, respected rather than time-wasting. It helps, though, that she is viewed as consistent. She is always fair, parents say. Her judgment is impeccable. Nobody argues with this ump. Looking like everyone's sister--about five-eight, athletically thin with just a slight middle-aged paunch and the beginnings of crow's feet--she commands the field as surely as any bellowing, bulky man could. With two daughters--one grown and the other in high school--she is easy for parents to relate to.

After the game, Betty will do what she always does. She will make sure all the equipment, bases included, is put back in the equipment room. She will supervise the clean-up and accounting of the snack stand. She will make sure the snack stand window is rolled down and fastened and that the equipment room is locked up. Once everything is secure, she will be the last to leave the field. Another game down. Another good experience for young people. All secure so this experience can happen again and again. Betty is a lion of a woman in this community. But she comports herself in accord with the unavoidable truth that even for lions, there is a bigger cause, a bigger purpose. For her, that is to make the game fun and accessible and a growth experience for kids. This lion never roars, but she definitely rules.